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Dana Santos, the woman I’d invited to Monroe’s workshop with the women’s team, turned toward me. Surprise coated her face when she registered who I was. “Ms. Barrera?” She waved a hand over to her crew. “Stop filming and cut the fee⁠—”

“No,” I blurted out. “I need to make a statement, and I need people to see it.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, glancing over at the phone mounted on a tripod for the live feed to social media, making sure it was still recording.

“This can’t wait? We were righ⁠—”

“No, it can’t. As you know, I’m the publicist managing Josh Monroe’s image campaign.” I pulled a chair up next to Ari. “And I have a story you’d probably be interested in. An exclusive, if you will.”

Dana straightened her back at the magic words.

Ariella’s hand landed on my arm, pads of her fingers firm against my skin. “You sure?” Her voice was low, just barely under the threshold of the microphone.

“I love him, Ariella.”

I didn’t look at her, eyes glued to the woman in the tailored dress. “You want it?”

She glanced at her cameramen, the one manning the main camera and the one streaming, giving them an almost imperceptible nod.

“Well, Ms. Barrera, what is it you’d like to say regarding NHL’s dark horse of a head coach?” the reporter asked, signaling for me to take Ari’s mic.

“I…” I looked at my clasped hands, fighting back tears as memories invaded my mind.

How he’d built his career out of sheer stubbornness and refusal to let anyone take it from him. How Monroe looked at Goldie.

How Monroe looked at me…

He’d never let me do this if he knew. He’d walk through that door and put himself between me and the camera.

Which was exactly why I had to do it now.

“Ms. Barrera?”

I straightened my shoulders, looking her in the eye. “There’s going to be a story leaked about Josh Monroe and his personal life.” I kept my voice steady. “Something deliberately misrepresented by someone with an interest in damaging his career. I will not let that happen.” I took a breath. “So, here’s the truth, in my own words, before anyone else gets to spin it.”

She leaned forward almost imperceptibly.

“I pursued Josh Monroe romantically.” The words came out clean and even, but Ari reached over and gripped my trembling hand. “He was in a relationship, and my client, but I pursued him anyway. That was a mistake that I made, not him.” I paused. “It is not my place to speak to the details of Monroe’s private life or the person he’s involved with. What I can tell you is that Vincent Langley is responsible for spearheading this smear campaign, and he’s not interested in the truth. Only in leverage.”

“Allegedly,” Ari tacked on, shooting me a glare. I repeated it.

“Wow, Ms. Barrera, that’s…” Dana sat back in her chair, eyebrows near her hairline. “I have to ask, why are you coming forward like this?”

I shook my head, a few tears breaking free.

“Monroe’s record speaks for itself. His players would walk through fire for him. His family thinks he hung the moon.” My voice cracked. “I’m okay with the fallout. But he doesn’t deserve to have his career threatened over something that wasn’t his fault.”

The room was silent.

Ariella stared at me with an expression I couldn’t fully read. Pride tinged with sadness. Understanding.

She’d walked away, too, because she loved someone. A few more tears fell.

My story didn’t feel like it’d end with the same happily ever after.

“Thank you.” I unclipped the mic, not waiting for the follow-up questions, and heard the reporter cut the feed.

“This was all streamed, I can’t—I can’t cut this to save you from any backfire,” she said, looking genuinely sorry. I just shook my head.

Every step to the hallway felt like a nail in the coffin.