CHAPTER 1: The Betrayal at Stanford Arena

Cassy

I adjusted my thick, round tortoiseshell glasses and pulled the edges of my oversized hoodie tight around my body. My heart was beating so fast against my ribs I thought it might burst right out of my chest. Today was the day. Two whole years. Two years of supporting him, writing his game notes, sitting in the back row of every single practice, and keeping his secrets.

The energy inside Stanford Arena was deafening. Thousands of students and sports fans packed the bleachers, cheering and screaming as the bright stadium lights washed over the cold floor. The air smelled like stale popcorn and ice. I smoothed down my baggy jeans and wiped my sweaty palms on my scuffed sneakers. My long, dark chestnut hair was pulled back into its usual high, messy ponytail, swinging against my neck as I pushed my way closer to the front entrance near the team tunnel.

"He's going to love this," I whispered to myself, clutching the small velvet box tucked safely in my hoodie pocket. It was a customized watch band I had saved up three months of my student budget to buy for him.

I wanted tonight to be perfect. Hendrix had been so stressed lately about his ice time and his spot on the roster. His training had slipped, and I knew he was feeling the pressure. But tonight was our night. He told me to come early. He told me he had a massive surprise planned during the mid-rally team announcements.

"This is it, Cassy," I muttered under my breath, my hazel eyes scanning the crowd. "He's finally going to make us official in front of everyone."

Suddenly, the stadium lights flickered and dimmed, sending a massive roar through the bleachers. The spotlight swung toward the center of the floor.

Coach Jimenez stepped up to the podium near the center circle, his battered clipboard clutched tightly in one hand and his signature whistle hanging around his neck. His grey hair was combed over his head, and his thick mustache bristled as he raised his hand for silence. His weathered face was set in a firm scowl, but his sharp blue eyes scanned the arena with strict authority.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach Jimenez’s voice boomed over the arena loudspeakers, heavy and gruff. "Settle down, everyone! Before we start the official team roster announcements for the upcoming season, one of our players asked for two minutes on the microphone for a personal announcement. Give it up for Hendrix Sevilla!"

The crowd erupted into wild cheering. My heart did a crazy flip in my chest.

Hendrix stepped into the bright circle of light, holding a cordless microphone. He looked impossibly handsome with his blond-streaked hair styled in a sharp undercut. His light grey eyes scanned the crowd, full of arrogance and easy confidence. He flashed his signature fake smile for the cameras, his golden tan glowing under the harsh stadium lights. He wore a flashy designer tracksuit, and the heavy gold watch on his wrist caught the glare of the spotlights.

"What's up, Stanford Arena!" Hendrix shouted into the mic, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

The crowd roared back in response.

"I know you guys are excited for the new season," Hendrix continued, grinning wider as he raised a hand to quiet them down. "But tonight, before we hit the ice, I need to take care of something far more important. Tonight is about my future. Tonight is about love."

My throat went completely dry. A soft, breathless gasp escaped my lips. 'Oh my god,' I thought. 'He's really doing it. He's actually going to tell everyone about us.'

"For the past two years, somebody very special has been by my side," Hendrix said, his voice lowering into a deep, romantic tone that made the girls in the front row squeal. "Somebody who completely changed my life. Somebody who deserves the entire world."

I took a step forward, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my sweater. My eyes welled up with happy tears behind my thick glasses.

"Portia Mineses," Hendrix called out, turning toward the tunnel entrance. "Will you please join me out here?"

My whole body went completely rigid. The air was sucked directly out of my lungs.

Portia?

I watched in absolute horror as Portia Felize Mineses stepped into the spotlight. She walked like a runway model, her slim figure wrapped in an insanely expensive designer dress. Her long, platinum blonde hair hung down her back in perfect, silky waves, blowing gently from the arena fans. Her porcelain skin looked flawless, and her cold blue eyes sparkled with triumph under the bright lights. She carried a Chanel bag on her forearm, her sharp red lips curved into a dazzling, flawless smile.

"What..." I choked out, the word dying in my throat. "W-What is he doing?"

Portia glided onto the floor toward Hendrix, her high heels clicking loudly against the polished floor. The entire crowd was cheering and screaming.

Hendrix looked at her like she was the only person in the universe. He took her soft, manicured hand in his.

"Portia, you are the most incredible, beautiful woman I have ever known," Hendrix spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing across the thousands of silent spectators. "I can't imagine my life without you."

Then, right in front of the entire university, right in front of thousands of screaming fans and national media cameras, Hendrix dropped down onto one knee.

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open. Inside sat a massive, sparkling diamond ring—his family's legendary heirloom ring.

"Portia Felize Mineses," Hendrix said, his light grey eyes staring up at her with complete adoration. "Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?"

Portia gasped dramatically, bringing both of her manicured hands to her mouth. Her cold blue eyes widened with fake surprise.

"Oh my god! Yes! Yes, Hendrix, a thousand times yes!" Portia squealed into the microphone.

The arena erupted into an absolute explosion of noise. Thunderous applause and deafening cheers rattled the metal rafters. Hendrix stood up, wrapped his arms around Portia's waist, and lifted her into the air, kissing her deeply as the crowd went wild.

My vision went completely blurry. My knees buckled, and I had to grab the railing to keep myself from collapsing onto the concrete floor.

Two years.

Two years of cooking his meals. Two years of breaking down game film for him until three in the morning. Two years of sleeping in his bed, keeping our relationship a secret because he claimed his agent said a private life was better for his hockey career.

It was all a lie. Every single word out of his mouth was a fucking lie.

"No," I whispered. My voice was shaking, full of raw, bleeding pain. "No, this isn't happening. This can't be happening."

Before my brain could stop my body, I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets and walked out onto the arena floor.

I didn't care that thousands of people were watching. I didn't care that the spotlights were burning into my eyes. I just needed him to look at me. I needed him to tell me to my face what kind of sick joke this was.

"Hendrix!" I shouted.

My voice was small, but in the brief lull of the cheering, it echoed enough for him to hear.

Hendrix pulled away from Portia's lips, his eyebrows pulling together in immediate annoyance. He turned toward me, his light grey eyes narrowing as if he were looking at a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Hendrix, what is this?" I demanded, stopping a few feet away from them. Tears were streaming down my face now, burning my cheeks behind my round glasses. My dark chestnut ponytail shook with every ragged breath I took. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Hendrix immediately turned off his microphone switch, stepping in front of Portia. "Cassy? What the hell are you doing out here? Get off the floor right now."

"Get off the floor?" I asked, my voice cracking wildly. "Today is our two-year anniversary! You told me to come here tonight! You told me you had a surprise for me!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Hendrix spat, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer to me. "Shut your mouth and walk away before you embarrass yourself even more."

"Embarrass myself?" I let out a harsh, broken laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my oversized sweater sleeve. "You're standing here proposing to her with your family ring! The ring you told me last week you were going to give to me!"

Portia's sharp red lips twisted into a cruel, momentary smirk before her entire expression instantly transformed. Her cold blue eyes filled with sudden, dramatic tears. She let out a small, terrified whimpering gasp and took two fast steps backward.

"Hendrix, help me!" Portia cried out, her voice loud enough for the entire front row to hear. She threw herself backward onto the floor, dramatic tears streaming down her perfect porcelain face. "She's trying to attack me! She pushed me!"

I stared at her in absolute shock, my hands frozen in the air. "What? I didn't even fucking touch you!"

"Please don't hurt me!" Portia whimpered, pulling her knees up to her chest and weeping like a helpless child. "Hendrix, she's crazy! She told me she was going to ruin my life if I stayed with you!"

"You lying snake!" I yelled at Portia, stepping forward. "I haven't said a single word to you!"

"Stay the fuck back from her!" Hendrix roared.

He violently shoved me away, his hands slamming against my chest. I stumbled back onto my scuffed sneakers, barely keeping my balance.

Hendrix quickly switched his microphone back on, his face contorted in pure disgust as he looked down at me. His voice boomed through the entire stadium, reaching every single corner of Stanford Arena.

"Look at you, Cassy! You're pathetic!" Hendrix shouted into the mic, making sure all thousands of spectators heard every cruel word. "I tried to be nice to you! I took pity on you because you were always creeping around the locker rooms like a lonely loser! But this is ridiculous!"

"Hendrix, please..." I gasped, my chest heaving as tears blinded me. "How can you say that?"

"We were never together!" Hendrix sneered, his handsome face ugly with arrogance and spite. "You're nothing but a desperate, obsessed, jealous ex-girlfriend who can't take a hint! You've been stalking me for months, and now you come out here and push my fiancee? You're fucking crazy!"

The crowd gasped loudly. Murmurs and angry whispers began spreading through the bleachers like wildfire. I could see hundreds of bright phone screens lifted in the air, cameras pointing directly at my face, recording every second of my public execution.

"She's crazy!" someone shouted from the bleachers.

"Get her off the ice!" another voice yelled.

"Look at her, she looks like a freak!"

My whole world collapsed around me. My heart was torn completely out of my chest and stomped on in front of the entire university. I looked at Hendrix—the boy I had given two years of my life to, the boy I had loved with every fiber of my being—and I saw nothing but pure, calculating cruelty in his eyes.

He smiled a small, vicious smile, proud of himself for throwing me to the wolves to make himself look like a hero protecting his beautiful socialite bride.

"Get out of my sight, Cassy," Hendrix sneered into the microphone, pointing toward the exit. "You're nothing to me. You never were."

Something inside me snapped.

The timid, soft girl who always stayed quiet, the girl who hid under baggy sweaters and let people walk all over her, completely shattered into dust.

In two fast steps, I closed the distance between us. Before Hendrix could even react or pull away, I threw my entire body weight into my right arm and brought my open hand flying across his face.

A sharp crack echoed across the silent floor as my palm connected hard with his jawline.

Hendrix's head snapped violently to the side. The microphone flew out of his hand, tumbling onto the hard surface with a dull thud. His golden-tanned cheek instantly turned bright, ugly red where my fingers struck him.

The entire arena went dead silent. Thousands of people gasped at the exact same time.

Hendrix stumbled back, clutching his face in sheer disbelief. His light grey eyes were wide with shock, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me.

"Don't you ever fucking talk to me again," I spat, my voice lethal and steady despite the hot tears burning my cheeks.

Portia let out another fake, dramatic scream, scrambling to Hendrix's side. "Oh my god! Hendrix! Are you okay?"

I didn't wait to hear his answer. I turned around and ran.

I sprinted past the shocked security guards, past the tunnel entrance, and straight through the dark hallways of Stanford Arena. My breath came in ragged, painful gasps. My chest burned like it was on fire. I didn't care where I was going; I just needed to run until my legs gave out.

I burst through the heavy glass exit doors, leaving the roaring arena behind me.

The moment I stepped outside, a wall of freezing cold water slammed into my body. A torrential downpour was hammering the campus, severe lightning flashing violently across the pitch-black sky and heavy thunder shaking the pavement beneath my feet.

I didn't have my jacket. The freezing rain soaked through my oversized hoodie in seconds, heavy and icy against my skin. Rain poured down my face, washing away my tears and plastering my long chestnut hair to my back. My thick tortoiseshell glasses instantly covered in droplets, blurring my vision completely.

I stumbled down the slick concrete stairs, wiping my eyes with my soaked sleeve.

Every step I took felt like walking through a nightmare. My phone in my hoodie pocket started buzzing relentlessly. Vibration after vibration. Notification after notification.

I pulled the wet phone out with shaking, numb fingers.

My screen was completely flooded with notifications. Social media apps were exploding. Campus group chats were going crazy. Videos of me hitting Hendrix were already trending at the very top of the university feed.

WATCH: Crazy stalker Cassy Del Fierro attacks Hendrix Sevilla at the Stanford Arena proposal!

'Jealous ex-girlfriend snaps on live arena cameras!'

'Portia Mineses assaulted on stage by desperate fan!'

The video had tens of thousands of views already, growing bigger by the second. Comments were pouring in, calling me insane, a freak, a pathetic loser, telling me to hide my face and leave the school forever.

I dropped my phone into the wet grass. I couldn't breathe. The heavy freezing rain kept falling, soaking me to the bone, but nothing could cool the burning, agonizing humiliation raging inside my soul.

I sank down onto my knees in the middle of the blinding thunderstorm, trembling in the dark as my whole life crumbled around me.