Chapter 3

Logan went up and won the tip. The building erupted.

While nobody was watching, Maddie picked her way over to me in her heels and bragged in a low voice, "See? Without that drink I gave him last night, do you really think he'd be in this kind of shape?"

I kept my eyes on the four of them tearing up and down the floor. Last life, even without her packet of cold medicine, the system I'd tailored for them would have steamrolled this opponent anyway.

The final buzzer sounded with the scoreboard frozen on a brutal margin.

"We won! Logan's a god!"

The fans in the stands shrieked themselves hoarse. Maddie was the first one onto the floor, throwing her arms around him. Media swarmed the starters in seconds, cameras and boom mics packed so tight nobody could move. The flashes turned the whole floor white as daylight.

"What a tremendous win. Does anyone have anything they'd like to share?" The ESPN reporter shoved a microphone forward, practically vibrating.

Tyler, still gasping for breath, exchanged a look with Chris beside him. Then he spoke straight into the lens.

"We have exactly one demand. Replace our director of operations."

The room detonated.

Dozens of cameras pivoted like sharks catching blood in the water, every lens swinging around to find me standing at the edge of the court.

The reporters' eyes lit up green with greed. The questions came in bursts.

"What's the reason for demanding her removal?"

"Has Ava Sinclair been making inappropriate demands regarding revenue splits?"

Chris swiped the sweat off his forehead and sneered into the camera.

"She's a control freak. A workplace cancer."

"Yeah. I was born to go pro. She actually thinks we were begging her to represent us?"

That was Chris. The same Chris who couldn't make rent and was about to fall in with a gang, until I saw his wingspan and paid his way into a development academy out of my own account.

Now, with the whole country watching, he stripped me down to nothing.

I met Logan's cold, entitled stare, and nausea rolled through me.

The reporter immediately shoved the mic at the team's captain. "Logan, do you agree with your teammates?"

Logan looked into the camera, voice indifferent. "Ava's management style is no longer a fit for us."

The reporter smelled blood and pointed at Maddie, who was pressed up against his side. "We've heard the woman who was toweling you off before the game is your girlfriend. Is that true?"

Logan's gaze traveled over the crowd and landed coldly on me. Then, on live national television, he nodded slowly.

"Yes."