LOGINRory Callahan never wanted to be a headline. She only wanted to play hockey. As the first woman signed to the professional Titans hockey team, she has spent two brutal seasons fighting for her place in a world determined to push her out. Her greatest obstacle is Jaxon Kane, the team’s arrogant captain, whose cold glares and cutting words make it clear that he believes she does not belong. But when a public scandal threatens Jaxon’s career and Rory is once again painted as angry and impossible to coach, management forces them into the perfect lie: a fake relationship. Now, the man who once humiliated her is holding her hand before cameras, sharing an apartment with her, defending her to the press and standing too close under the excuse of fixing her stance on the ice. Rory knows better than to trust him but the longer they pretend, the harder it becomes to tell where the act ends and the truth begins. Then she discovers the secret buried in Jaxon’s contract: a five-million-dollar bonus tied to her failure. Caught between betrayal, ambition, pregnancy and a love she no longer knows how to trust, Rory must decide whether to walk away quietly or expose the system that tried to destroy her. But when the man who was supposed to ruin her becomes the only one willing to burn everything down for her, can Rory risk trusting Jaxon Kane again?
View MoreThe news alert came while I was brushing my teeth.TITANS CAPTAIN JAXON KANE AND FEMALE PLAYER RORY CALLAHAN: LOVE MATCH OR PR STUNT? INSIDE SOURCES SUGGEST RELATIONSHIP MAY BE FABRICATED.I stared at the screen so long toothpaste slid down my chin.For one strange second, I did not move. I just stood there in my bathroom, barefoot, hair a mess, one hand gripping my toothbrush while the headline carved itself into my brain.Inside sources.Of course.There was always a source. Always someone smiling in the locker room, clapping you on the shoulder, pretending not to carry a knife. Someone had leaked the fake relationship. Someone had spoken to the press. Someone wanted this lie to collapse before it had finished serving its purpose.The only question was who.And because my life had recently become a punishment written by a committee of men in expensive suits, my first thought was not even panic.It was exhaustion...I rinsed my mouth, wiped my chin, and walked into the living room.J
Jaxon,Per our discussion, the amendment is finalized. Five-million-dollar bonus will be paid upon resolution of the female player situation within twelve months of signing. Current status: four months remaining.Resolution defined as: voluntary resignation, trade acceptance, or contract termination.Your cooperation in facilitating said resolution is appreciated.Performance metrics attached.I read it once.Then again.Then a third time, because apparently my brain had decided there must be another meaning hidden somewhere between the words. Maybe “female player situation” meant something else. Maybe “resolution” was not me being erased from the Titans roster like a scheduling mistake. Maybe “your cooperation” did not mean Jaxon Kane had been paid to help push me out of the only thing I had ever fought to keep.But the words did not change. Not in the slightest.My name was not written in the email but it was everywhere.Female player situation.Resolution.Voluntary resignation.T
By six in the morning, I had cleaned my apartment twice and hated myself for the third time before sunrise.The kitchen counters were spotless. The living room rug had been vacuumed so aggressively it probably needed therapy. I had rearranged the throw pillows, wiped down the windows, scrubbed the bathroom sink and reorganized a bookshelf no one cared about except me.Control.That was what cleaning gave me. Control.When my apartment was clean, I could pretend my life was not one bad headline away from collapse. When my skates were sharpened, my gear packed, my meals planned and my phone face down, I could pretend I was not constantly waiting for the next hit.People thought I survived on stubbornness. They were wrong.I survived by keeping distance.Distance from teammates who smiled too easily. Distance from coaches who called cruelty “toughening up.” Distance from reporters who wanted tears and men who wanted gratitude for doing the bare minimum.And especially distance from Jaxon
By six forty-three, I had tried on six outfits and hated every single version of myself.The black dress made me look like I was attending a funeral which, to be fair, was close enough. The red one looked like I was trying too hard. The jeans said I had not tried at all. The cream blouse looked too soft like something a woman wore when she wanted to be liked.I did not want to be liked.Especially not by Jaxon Kane.I stood in front of my mirror wearing dark trousers, a fitted white top and a black jacket that said I had made an effort but would deny it under oath. My hair was down which was a mistake. Then I tied it up which was worse. Then I let it down again and glared at my reflection like she had personally betrayed me.This was ridiculous.It was fake.It was business.It was six months of pretending not to hate the man who had spent two years making my life on the Titans feel like a punishment.The first day I walked into the Titans’ training facility, every man in that locker












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