All Chapters of Her Hockey Stepbrother, Her Worst Enemy, Her Beloved: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

Maxton’s POV “I think we’re done here, Maxton. So I can go back to what I was doing. I think I’ve had more than enough rest.” She began to walk away.“It all depends on Bambi getting drunk. Once we’re able to get her drunk, the rest of the activities depends on us carrying it off. I think we’d do just fine with the universe in our favour.” She proclaimed as she walked out. I sat back. Alone. The task ahead was hectic. I for one didn’t like that so many portions of our plans depended on probabilities to succeed. Bambi had to come to the party for it to all work, then she had to get drunk which was another probability. Only when these two steps align do we get access to Bambi’s House. Then from there it all still depended on if the video is in her secret drawer or the secret room. Of which we’d have to get Bambi to tell us the password. My mind wandered a bit. I left the skating rink. Going about my day. The rest of the day seemed foggy. I was filled foreboding. I could think of a

Maxton’s POV “Do you know something the rest of us don’t know, or was what you just said purely speculative.” Talia asked. We all were staring at Micheala. Talia had just mirrored my exact thoughts.We all waited for Micheala to speak. “I know she didn’t leave the party. It’s something I’ve witnessed over and over again. We were best friends until about a week ago remember.” Micheala spoke hoping to get a bit of trust from us. We didn’t look convinced all the same.“Bambi always doused herself in drinks after a fall out with someone. Making me certain she didn’t leave the party. She was probably at a corner outside the house sulking. After that, I’m fairly certain she would reach for her usual way of dealing with fall outs. Alcohol.” She concluded. While staring at us.“Let’s get this straight. So our plan is based on Bambi acting based on character. If she decides to up and change at this very moment we’d be left with nothing. Sounds like a good plan.” Deej responded, a bit of sarc

Maxton’s POVI kept my head slightly lowered as I moved through the hallway, my steps measured, not too fast or too slow. The workers around me barely spared a glance in my direction, and that was exactly how I wanted it. Invisible. Unnecessary would do my course no good. I needed to be just another body passing through.Still, I kept my senses sharp.Every footstep behind me sounded like suspicion. Every glance felt like recognition. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder too often, that would only signal that I had no place being here in the first place.Everything in the house had its place. Anything out of place could be rooted out so easily. Everything seemed so clean on the surface.Which meant the rot had to be buried deeper. I turned a corner and slowed down. My steps didn’t need to be rushed. I needed to blend in as much as possible.That was when I saw it.I could clearly tell its difference from the other doors in the house. No handle. No label. Just a smooth metallic

Talia’s POVI stood quietly at the far end of the room, watching everything unfold in a way I never thought I would witness. Mr. Carter had changed. No, that wasn’t even accurate. It felt like I was finally seeing who he really was beneath everything else. The hesitation I used to associate with him, the distance, the moments where he seemed unsure… all of that was gone. What remained was something far more controlled. Calculated. Dangerous, even. They gave no sense of hesitation any longer. Now he had everything he needed. I saw a decisiveness I didn’t know existed in him.“Reopen the case,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that silenced the entire room. “Every detail. Every report. I want a full reinvestigation into Talia’s abduction.” He spoke. We were at the police station. He made the decision immediately after reviewing the evidence we had brought before him. Hearing my name like that, so formally, so deliberately, sent a chilly feeling running through my spine.

Talia’s POV The days that followed were nothing short of exhausting. There was no clean break between one event and the next, everything blurred together into a cycle of court appearances, statements, and long, draining hours of answering the same questions in slightly different ways. I was tired out.“What happened that night?”“How certain are you?”“Can you confirm this message?”Over and over again.At some point, it stopped feeling like I was telling my story and started feeling like I was reliving it. And yet, It didn’t break me the way it used to.If anything, it did the opposite. It fueled me.Each time I spoke, each time I confirmed the truth, it felt like I was taking something back. Like I was reclaiming pieces of myself that had been taken from me. It was strange. Yet I was willing to go through it all.Outside of that chaos, things weren’t any less intense.The company was barely holding itself together. News of the scandal had spread faster than anyone could control, an