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67.

Author: Justina
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-10-02 20:52:02

Anthony’s POV

The break room smelled faintly of burnt coffee and lemon cleaner, the kind of scent that clung to the walls no matter how many windows were cracked open.

A small TV bolted in the corner was playing a rerun of some cooking competition. The chefs on screen shouted at each other over sizzling pans, but the sound was low, just enough to fill the silence, not enough to distract me.

Not that anything could distract me right now.

The notecard sat in front of me like a dare. Ten things I was grateful for about Samantha. Ten. I tapped the pen against the table, my knee bouncing under it.

I actually thought this was going to be an easy task, but to my wildest surprise, it wasn't. How hard was it to show gratitude? I thought. Think Anthony, I muttered to myself.

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath. “Easy stuff first.”

I pressed the pen down, scribbling the first thing that came to mind.

She’s a talented skater.

I stared at the words. Simple, true, but it felt… flat. Like I was pho
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  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    96.

    Anthony’s POV The photo hit harder than I expected ,me, leaving the hospital parking lot, dressed down in clothes I thought would make me invisible. Sunglasses. Cap pulled low. Shoulders hunched like I was trying to disappear. I remembered that day ,the way the sun had felt too sharp, how every noise seemed to stab at the edges of my head. The way I’d just wanted to get home before anyone saw me.Guess that had worked out great.Then another photo flashed up. Me again ,standing beside my car, in another cloth, phone pressed to my ear, exhaustion written all over my face. I looked pale, older, like the weight of the world was hanging off me. And in a way, it was.So they had followed me twice to the hospital. Damn! How the hell had I not noticed someone trailing me. I could swear that I had been very careful.The sound in the room changed ,no longer polite curiosity, but something heavier. Whispers. Shuffling. The low hiss of people trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Ever

  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    95.

    Anthony’s POV Samantha let out a slow breath beside me, finally letting the mask slip just a little. “She’s good,” she muttered.“Too good,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”Cole leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Let her play her game,” he said. “You just focus on yours.”I nodded, but my stomach was still knotted. Because as much as I wanted to believe Celeste was just playing her usual games… there’d been something in her tone when she said she was watching.Something that told me this wasn’t over ,not by a long shot. I don’t know how many seconds passed until I felt someone’s elbow on my side.“Anthony,” Samantha nudged me again under the table. “They’re asking about our new short program.”Right. Focus. The short program.I cleared my throat and leaned toward the mic. “We’re excited about it,” I said, voice steady, even though my pulse was nowhere near calm. “It’s a bit darker than our previous programs. More experimental.”A few came

  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    94.

    Anthony’s POV I swallowed the sharp retort that rose up. Samantha didn’t seem to notice; she was busy nodding politely to another question about choreography and team chemistry. But I caught the way Celeste’s eyes lingered on her, assessing, dissecting,like she was already writing the headline in her head.Another reporter piped up, sensing the tension. “Celeste, since you’ve mentioned the new teams,how do you feel seeing your former partner compete again, this time with Samantha Meadows?” she asked.Celeste’s lips curved into something that might have passed for a smile if you didn’t know her. I did. And that wasn’t a smile, it was the calm before the storm.“Oh, Anthony’s always been adaptable,” she said lightly. “He adjusts quickly. Doesn’t waste time looking back.”I felt Samantha shift beside me, her posture stiffening. The jab was subtle enough to slip past most people, but not her. Not me.I forced my voice steady, offering the cameras a tight grin. “That’s the point of compe

  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    93.

    Anthony’s POVIsaac nudged me lightly. “Dude,” he murmured, “you seeing what I’m seeing?”“Unfortunately, yeah.” My voice came out tighter than I intended, the words pressed between my teeth.Across the room, I watched Celeste. I could already see cameras starting to shift toward her, reporters perking up as if someone had just announced free coffee. Typical.Isaac followed my gaze, his brows raised. “She looks good,” he said cautiously, like he was testing the air for mines.“Yeah,” I muttered, eyes still fixed on her. “She always does.”It came out before I could stop it, that automatic admission that hung between us like something I shouldn’t have said out loud. I wasn’t going to give Isaac the satisfaction of calling me out for it, though.He tilted his head, smirking just a little. “You think she’s here for you?”“I don’t know,” I said, forcing a dry laugh. “You think she’s now a reporter?” My voice was flat, maybe too sharp. “I really don’t care. I do know she’s here for a story

  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    92.

    Anthony’s POVCeleste was the last person I expected to see that morning.At first, I thought I was imagining things , maybe it was the glare from the overhead lights, the nerves twisting my stomach before the conference. But then she moved, graceful and deliberate, threading through the rows of chairs like she’d never left this world, like she hadn’t spent the last few months in physical therapy learning how to walk again.I saw the faint shine of her auburn hair, the same familiar tilt of her chin she used to give me before a jump , confident, teasing, sure of herself. She adjusted her press badge and took a seat in the front row, crossing her legs neatly beside another reporter. Her posture was calm, professional, detached… but I knew that mask. I knew her too damn well.I blinked once. Twice.What the hell was she doing here?Celeste Archer , my ex-partner, and I meant it in every sense, the girl who used to lace my skates before every competition , sitting there like she b

  • SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal    91.

    Anthony’s POV Samantha froze for half a second, just long enough for me to notice. Then she smiled that press-friendly smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s a big field this year,” she said, calm and diplomatic as ever. “Everyone’s bringing their best. We just focus on our own skating.”The perfect non-answer.Logan, of course, couldn’t resist. He leaned into his mic, his smile just shy of a smirk. “Oh, come on, Sam,” he drawled, voice smooth and oily. “Don’t be modest. You love a little competition.”A few reporters laughed, the kind of low, eager chuckle that said this was the moment they were waiting for, blood in the water.I turned my head slowly, locking eyes with Logan. My voice came out low and steady. “We love fair competition.”The laughter died almost instantly.He blinked, still smiling, but his jaw tightened just slightly. I leaned back in my seat, letting the silence stretch before I spoke again, loud enough for the microphones to pick up every word.“

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