All Chapters of SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Anthony’s POV Her gaze hardened, steel poured over ice. “If you were innocent, you wouldn’t be so afraid.”I wasn’t afraid because I was responsible for her injury, we both knew damn well I wasn’t. I was afraid because a lawsuit meant scrutiny, questions, investigations, things dug up from corners I’d fought to keep sealed. This wasn’t about guilt over her fall; this was about the truth I’d been holding together with tape and grit. My eye condition; the one thing that could end everything, was now sitting like a live wire between us. Not because she knew, but because she was reckless enough to throw a match into dry grass just to watch me burn, and if this case went forward, someone, somewhere, would start pulling at loose threads. And once they pulled, everything would unravel.I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, ready to ask her if she even recognized the man who held her hand when pain ripped her apart, but nothing came out.Because in her eyes, I wasn’t that person anymore.

Samantha's POVThe second the restroom door swung shut behind me, I let out the breath I’d been strangling in my throat since the press conference ended.The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, too bright, too sharp, too honest. I stepped out of the stall and headed toward the sink, my palms still clammy, my pulse still fluttering in that unsettled place between my ribs.The press conference.Celeste’s little performance.The photos.The questions about Anthony’s vision.Anthony’s jaw locked so tight I thought he might crack a tooth.And me, sitting there, trying to breathe, trying not to look like every camera in the room wasn’t waiting to catch the smallest twitch on my face.I turned on the faucet. Cold water rushed over my hands, and I stared at my reflection in the mirror as if I could scrub the tension off my skin along with the soap.I didn’t belong here. Not really. I wasn’t born into figure skating royalty. I didn’t come from multi-generation training dynasties or federations

Samantha’s POV I knew him. Too well. If there was one thing Logan wasn’t, it was a dog. He didn’t go sniffing around old bones once he dropped them. He didn’t go back to his vomit; his words, once, sharp and careless during one of our late-night arguments about loyalty on and off the ice. The memory hit like a slap, cold and humiliating even now. If I was the thing he threw away so easily, why would he suddenly see value in it again? No. It didn’t make sense. The world would crack in half before Logan admitted he wanted something he decided was beneath him. Unless… unless it wasn’t about wanting me.A worse thought flickered, maybe it was about winning. About possession. About proving he could still have me if he wanted. And somehow, that possibility twisted harder than anything else.“Why would he…?” I started, but she lifted a hand, tiny gesture, sharp like a blade.“He’s obsessed, Samantha,” she muttered, jaw tight. “Obsessed.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “And he wo

Anthony’s POV“I didn’t hesitate,” I said again, slower this time, voice low and shaking with anger I barely kept caged. “She shifted too soon. Her blade wasn’t anchored. I felt it. I reacted. I tried to catch her.”“And yet she fell,” Marlin replied softly, almost gently. He wasn’t accusing me. He didn’t have to. The paperwork on that table was doing it for him.A thick silence settled like smoke.My nails dug into the arm of the chair. “She knows the truth.” I muttered.A bitter laugh bubbled in my chest, but it tasted like grief. “We trained together for years. She knows how I skate. She knows I don’t… I wouldn’t … do something like this.”Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s desperate, man. Or angry. Maybe both. But going after your sight? That’s not a normal claim. That’s personal.”I swallowed, and it hurt. My vision, the one thing I worked every damn day to protect. Eye tests, supplements, rest schedules, specialists, everything to make sure a my condition never came back t

Anthony’s POVThe smell of waxed floors and cold air filled the changing room, that familiar blend of chlorine, polish, and the faint sting of menthol from someone’s forgotten balm. It was quiet except for the faint drip of water from the ceiling pipe and the sound of my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs. The metal bench under me felt colder than it should’ve been. Maybe it was just me. I couldn't hold it anymore, so I stood up.The door creaked open, and the echo of soft footsteps followed. Samantha’s reflection appeared in the mirror across from me before she did, her hair still damp from training, pulled into a messy bun, her warm-up jacket half-zipped. She looked tired. Not the kind of tired that came from skating for hours, but the kind that sat behind the eyes, the kind that came from worry. I didn’t know if it was about me, or if she was still shaken by her encounter with Logan during the press conference. The thought alone made my jaw tighten that I wanted to now