My phone vibrated violently against my palm, buzzing three times in rapid succession. The screen lit up the dim interior of my car.

*Where are you?*

*If you don't show up right now, I won't love you anymore.*

*Stop being unreasonable, Scarlett.*

I stared at the brightly lit screen. A dry, hollow sound escaped my throat. He actually thought threatening to withhold his affection was a weapon. Yesterday, that second text would have sent me into a blind panic. I would have dropped everything, apologized for a mistake I didn't make, and rushed to his side.

Today, it just made my stomach turn.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping out a response with sharp, forceful jabs.

*Go to the stadium first. I have an important matter. I'll be there before the game ends.*

I hit send. I didn't wait for his reply. I shoved the phone into my jacket pocket and pushed open my car door.

The smell of fresh paint and athletic tape hit me the second I pushed open the door to the VIP locker room.

Chloe sat perched on the center leather sofa. She had her legs crossed, wearing Ryan’s away jersey. It swallowed her small frame, dipping low over her shoulder.

"You really are a clingy tail," Chloe said.

A sharp smirk stretched across her glossy lips.

I shut the heavy door behind me. The metal latch clicked shut, sealing us in.

"Saw the stream and still won't let go?" she asked.

"Was our friendship fake?" I stepped further into the room, keeping my distance.

Chloe threw her head back and laughed. The sound grated against the quiet room, loud and entirely unapologetic.

"I only approached you for Ryan," she said. She held up her hand, examining her freshly painted manicured nails. "I didn't expect you to be so stupid."

My jaw tightened. "I gave you everything. I paid your rent."

"You gave me access." She dropped her hand and met my gaze, her eyes cold and calculating. "You told me all his habits. His favorite foods. His schedule. You brought me to his private parties. You practically handed him to me wrapped in a bow."

"I trusted you," I shot back. "I thought you were my sister."

"Sister?" Chloe scoffed. "We're in the real world, Scarlett. Sisters don't pay each other's rent out of pity. You just wanted a pet project. Someone to look down on."

"That's a lie."

"It doesn't matter anymore." Chloe stood up. She smoothed the jersey over her hips, making sure I saw exactly whose name was printed on the back. "With his talent, I'll soon be the wife of the world's brightest baseball star."

"And what does that make me?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"A failed agent." She tilted her head, feigning pity. "A stepping stone. You should be thanking me for taking him off your hands before he realized how boring you are."

The bathroom door swung open before I could reply.

Steam billowed out into the locker room, followed by Ryan. He had a white towel slung over his shoulder, his baseball pants already on.

He didn't flinch when he saw me. He didn't look guilty. He walked straight to Chloe and wrapped a heavy arm around her waist.

"Why are you harassing her?" Ryan asked. His dark gaze pinned me to the spot.

"I'm harassing her?" My voice pitched up, sharp and jagged.

"Apologize to Chloe."

I blinked. The sheer audacity of the demand paralyzed me for a second. "Excuse me?"

"You're stressing her out before my game." Ryan tightened his grip on Chloe, pulling her flush against his side. "Say you're sorry, Scarlett."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My hands shook, but I forced them steady. I pulled up the screen recording of the live stream and shoved the device toward his face.

"Is this also a PR stunt?" I demanded. "Is this how you build your brand?"

Ryan barely glanced at the glowing screen. He swatted my hand away, knocking the phone to the carpeted floor.

"Just marketing, Scarlett." His tone was flat, completely devoid of remorse.

"Marketing?" I echoed.

"For the fans. For my career." He rolled his eyes, sighing like I was a child throwing a tantrum. "What's the big deal?"

"You slept with my best friend on camera! You humiliated me in front of half a million people!"

"I gave them a show." Ryan stepped closer, towering over me. His shadow fell across my face, blocking out the overhead lights. "I'm the face of this franchise. I can do whatever I want. The more I earn, the more you get paid. Isn't that what you want to see? Your percentage just went up because of that stream."

"You think this is about money?" My voice shook with pure rage.

"It's always about money with you," he sneered.

The dam inside me broke. A ragged, furious scream tore from my throat.

"You arrogant, selfish bastard!" I shoved his chest hard with both hands. "I made you! You were a minor league nobody before I fixed your messes! I hid your scandals! I bought your fame!"

He stumbled back half a step, shocked by the physical contact. Then, his eyes flared with sudden, violent anger.

"Shut up!" Ryan roared.

His hand swung out.

The crack of his palm against my cheek echoed like a gunshot in the confined room.

My head snapped to the side. A blinding sting radiated across my skin. The force of the blow rattled my teeth, followed immediately by the warm, metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth.

I stumbled, my shoulder catching the edge of the metal lockers to keep from falling.

Chloe gasped, taking a quick step backward, her hands flying to her mouth.

Silence crashed down on the room. The only sound was the harsh rasp of Ryan's breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

I slowly turned my head back to face him. My cheek burned like fire. I didn't reach up to touch it. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. I just stared at him, letting him see the exact moment whatever love I had left for him turned to ash.

Ryan flexed his fingers. He stared at his own hand for a split second before dropping it to his side. He didn't look sorry. He looked annoyed, adjusting his grip on the towel draped over his shoulder.

"Arrange the post-game interview," he ordered. His voice was cold, commanding, stripped of any affection. "Make sure the press only asks about my stats. No personal questions. Fix your face before you come out."

I didn't say a word. I didn't nod. I just kept staring.

"Let's go, baby," Ryan said, turning his back on me.

He grabbed his equipment bag from the bench and walked out the door. Chloe hurried after him. She cast one last triumphant glance over her shoulder before the heavy door slammed shut, leaving me completely alone.

I stood perfectly still in the empty locker room.

The hum of the stadium lights buzzed above me, a low, constant vibration. My cheek throbbed with every beat of my heart. I finally raised a trembling hand and wiped a drop of blood from the corner of my lip.

My phone, still lying on the floor, began to ring.

I knelt down and picked it up. The screen was cracked down the middle, but the caller ID flashed clearly.

Damon Blackwell.

I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I whispered. My voice sounded entirely foreign, hollowed out and sharp.

"Everything is ready," Damon's low, smooth voice rumbled through the speaker, cutting through the ringing in my ears.

I closed my eyes. The metallic taste in my mouth grounded me.

"Are they in place?" I asked.

"I believe the media is very eager to know the details of that live stream," Damon replied. "And the financial records you provided. The reporters are swarming the dugout as we speak."

"Good."

"Did he hurt you, Scarlett?"

The question caught me off guard. Damon's voice wasn't gentle, but it held a dangerous edge that hadn't been there before. It wasn't a question of pity. It was a question of assessment.

I opened my eyes, staring at the empty space where Ryan had just struck me. I pressed my tongue against the cut inside my lip.

"He made a mistake," I said softly.

"A fatal one," Damon agreed, the dark amusement returning to his tone. "Let's make him pay for it. Turn on the stadium television in exactly five minutes. You won't want to miss the pre-game show. His nightmare is about to begin."