All Chapters of Rejected by my team, Claimed by the Rival: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

AUTHOR'S POVDespite the early hour, the already beat down on the pavement with a blinding, oppressive glare. Heat radiated in thick waves off the concrete pathways surrounding the UCLA Athletic Board Administration Building. Pushing through the heavy, tinted glass double doors, the sudden blast of air-conditioned chill hit Sienna's face, instantly severing the humid morning air from her pristine environment.She adjusted the thin leather strap of her luxury tote bag, letting her designer heels click a steady, authoritative rhythm against the polished terrazzo floor. The vast lobby spanned wide and tall, heavily decorated with brushed steel fixtures and towering glass trophy cases.Navigating these halls required a specific type of currency. Administrative staff absolutely did not move for standard student complaints or petty athletic grievances. They moved instantly, however, for the surnames inscribed deeply into the university's massive bronze donor plaques mounted on the eastern w

The boardroom smelled of stale coffee and industrial air conditioning when Jeremiah walked in, having being invited by the board after Sienna reported them. Director Hayes sat across from him, her posture rigid, while Julian Vance tapped a metallic stylus against his tablet with rhythmic, maddening precision."Jeremiah," Director Hayes started, her voice dry. "We have a forged, or at least, highly contentious, document here. It outlines a quid pro quo agreement between your estate and Athena Cole. Do you care to explain?""It’s not a contract," Jeremiah answered, his voice steady. "It’s a rough draft that Talia, my manager, put together to track Athena's developmental progress. It was never executed. Not by me, not by my uncle."Julian Vance leaned into the light, his gaze shifting into a low, smooth blade. "We don't need a signature to see the conflict, Jeremiah. You’re trading athletic resources for tactical secrets. If the board officially validates Athena Cole’s position as head c

AUTHOR'S POVTick.Tock.Tick…The facility had gone dead silent. The team had cleared about an hour ago, leaving the long, sterile hallway smelling of stale sweat, industrial floor wax, and the metallic tang of hockey gear. Athena sat hunched over on a cold metal bench, staring blankly at the floor. Her hands rested limply between her knees, fingers traced with faint, dried marker dust.Jeremiah walked out of the locker room, his heavy gear bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped the moment he saw her. He dropped the bag, the heavy thud echoing through the corridor like a gunshot."Hey," he said, his voice quiet against the hollow acoustics of the building. "I thought you’d be halfway home by now."Looking up, her eyes appeared glassy under the flickering fluorescent light. "I just needed a minute. It’s weird, you know? Being part of a team, then having the rug pulled out."Jeremiah moved forward, sitting on the bench beside her. His massive frame made the metal groan in protest. He

ATHENAStaring blindly at the whiteboard in the coaches' office, the dry-erase marker hovered uselessly in my right hand. I hadn't drawn a single play in twenty minutes. Every time I closed my eyes, my brain immediately hijacked my focus, dragging me right back to the quiet, heavy warmth of my apartment last night. I could still feel the phantom weight of Jeremiah’s hands on my waist, the sharp smell of his spearmint gum, and the absolute, terrifying safety of his chest against mine.For the first time since my transfer, the constant anxiety vibrating in my ribs was entirely gone.Then, my phone screen lit up on the desk, buzzing violently against the cheap wood.Dropping the marker, I leaned over and glanced at the notification. My stomach instantly dropped.**Luca [4:15 PM]:** *I’m parked by the loading dock. We need to talk. Five minutes, Athena. Please.*Swiping the notification away so hard my thumb hit the edge of the phone case, I flipped the device face-down."Okay, judging by

AUTHOR'S POVKilling the engine of his SUV, Jeremiah sat in the driveway of the massive Bel Air estate for a full ten seconds before pulling the keys from the ignition. The text from the family housekeeper had been urgent: his mother’s autoimmune flare-up had spiked, leaving her entirely bedridden.Pushing through the heavy mahogany front doors, the oppressive, museum-like silence of his childhood home instantly wrapped around his throat. He didn't bother calling out a greeting. Taking the sweeping marble staircase two steps at a time, he bypassed the pristine living rooms and headed straight for the master wing.Pushing the heavy oak door open, the smell of eucalyptus and sterile medical linens hit him.His mother lay propped up against a mountain of white pillows, looking pale and exhausted. But she wasn't alone. Sitting in the velvet chair beside the bed, aggressively scrolling through her phone, was Vanessa. The daughter of his father’s primary real estate partner, Vanessa had bee