Mag-log inChapter 55 Ryan The Falcons are down by two goals going into the third period. I'm sitting in Section 112 (they didn't have 108), watching Maya pace in the executive box across the arena. Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she's gripping her phone. The championship is slipping away, there's nothing she can do but watch. I pull out my phone and text the arena's operations manager,a contact Carlo secured for me an hour ago. I need a favor. During the next commercial break, I need access to the jumbotron. Thirty seconds. Can you make it happen? That's highly unusual, Mr. Zurri. I'll make a substantial donation to your arena renovation fund. Name your price. ...I'll see what I can do. Twenty minutes into the third period, the Falcons score. 3-2 now, still down by one. The arena erupts. Maya is on her feet, fist pumping, looking more alive than she has in days. Then, during the next stoppage of play, the jumbotron lights up. Not with a
Chapter 54 Maya The championship game is in four hours, and I am standing in the locker room watching my team, and thinking that if I look at any one of them too long, I am going to cry. I can't cry. I won't. I clear my throat instead. Let the silence do its work first, let it fill the room the way silence only can before something enormous, before something that cannot be undone. Twenty-three faces turn toward me. Sweaty. Scared. Ready. These women have bled for this season. I have watched them bleed. I have handed them ice packs and told them to get back out there, and they did, every single time, because that is what this team does. That is who we are. "This is what we've worked for all season," I tell them, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel, steadier than I deserve given everything that is currently unraveling inside my chest. "Every five a.m. practice when the ice was still dark and your legs were still asleep. Every sacrifice the birthdays you missed, the din
CHAPTER 53 Ryan The Falcons win their final game 4-2. Maya was brilliant—working the press, managing the narrative, turning what could have been a distraction into a story of resilience and focus. I watch from Section 108, Row K, feeling proud and heartbroken in equal measure. She doesn't look up at me once. After the game, I try to reach her again. Thandiwe politely but firmly tells me Maya has already left for Durban with the team. I fly back to Cape Town at midnight, alone. My father was waiting in my penthouse when I arrived. "The rehearsal dinner is in thirty-six hours," Lorenzo says without preamble. "yes." "The bride isn't answering calls. The press is having a field day with your infidelity and you look like you haven't slept in three days. Fix this, Ryan. Now." "I'm trying." "Try harder. We have too much invested in this alliance to let it fall apart over a meaningless photograph." "It's not meaningless to Maya." "Then make her see reason. Use what
MayaI watch Ryan leave through the security cameras in my office.He looks devastated. Shoulders slumped, hands in pockets, every line of his body screaming defeat.Part of me wants to run after him. Wants to throw myself into his arms and forgive everything because I miss him so much it physically hurts.The other part of me the part that's been betrayed before, that's learned to protect herself that part keeps me frozen in my chair."He's gone,"Thandiwe says softly."Good.""Is it? You look miserable, and he looks miserable, and this whole situation is miserable.""I'm fine.""You're not fine. You're breaking your own heart to prove a point.""What point?""That you're strong enough to walk away. That you don't need him." Thandiwe sits across from me. "But Maya, being strong doesn't mean being alone. It means being brave enough to be vulnerable with the right person.""What if Ryan isn't the right person? What if my father was right what if this whole thing is just strategy and I w
RyanThe flight to Johannesburg is two hours of pure torture.I've drafted seventeen different apologies. Deleted sixteen of them. The one I keep rereading sounds desperate and pathetic, but it's honest:MayaI know you're not reading these. I know you're hurt and angry and probably never want to see me again. But I need you to know the truth.Tatiana showed up at my office yesterday. She kissed me. I pushed her away immediately.I swear to God, I pushed her away. The photographer was already there, already paid to capture that exact moment. It was a setup. A calculated move to destroy us.I should have been more careful. Should have anticipated it. Should have locked my goddamn door. But Maya, I swear on everything I am, I didn't want that kiss. I didn't invite it. I don't want Tatiana. I don't want anyone but you.I saw the photo of you with Greg Morrison. I won't lie my first reaction was jealousy. Irrational, stupid jealousy. But then I realized I was being a hypocrite. You have eve
MayaThe final game is in six hours, and I can't stop looking at my phone.Forty-three missed calls from Ryan. Sixty-seven text messages. Twelve voicemails I haven't listened to. Three emails with subject lines that range from"Please read this" to "I'm sorry" to "I love you."I've read none of them.I tell myself it's discipline. Strategy. That I'm protecting the team, protecting my focus, protecting the fragile professional composure I've spent years building into something that can actually hold weight. I tell myself a lot of things at five-thirty in the morning when the room is too quiet and the city outside hasn't fully woken up yet and there's nothing to drown out the sound of your own thoughts.The truth is simpler and worse: I'm afraid of what happens when I hear his voice.I know myself. I know that the moment I hear Ryan really hear him, not through the cold intermediary of a text message but actually *hear* him, his cadence, the way he says my name like it means something s
Chapter 22Maya The next day in Bloemfontein is deceptively beautiful, the kind of day that seems designed to mock internal winter. The sun is high and golden, pouring down with obscene generosity, warming the streets and painting the city in shades of amber and rose. We sit on a hidden patio drap
Chapter 18 Maya The party moved from the dining room to the lounge, the music swelling into something jazzier, more hedonistic, the kind of music that encourages bad decisions and expensive regrets. I get caught in a conversation with a group of investors, nodding and smiling while my mind is
RyanThe summit location was changed it was now being held at the Mount Nelson Hotel, neutral ground chosen specifically because neither family owns it. The pink landmark sits imposing and elegant, a reminder of old Cape Town money and colonial power.Perfect place for two criminal empires to negot
Chapter 13 Maya The drive to the Commodore takes fifteen minutes. I spend it oscillating between fury and something that feels dangerously like vindication. Jeremy wasn't devoted. He was using me, probably for access to the family, to information. Or maybe he just wanted both Rossi sisters and







