Page 72 of One Pucking Secret
“I’m on it,” I reply, thumbing my phone to life. The screen’s glow casts a soft light as I scrollfor something indulgent, something worthy of this moment.
I hear the clink of glass as Chloe opens a bottle. I glance back to see her leaning against the counter as she fills two glasses with ice and sparkling water.
“We should start making phone calls to set up a meeting in the morning,” Chloe says, already flipping through her contacts with determined grace.
“Right.” I nod as the pieces fall into place. With our dinner order set, I pocket my phone and join her, accepting the glass she offers with a grateful smile. We toast silently, the bubbles of the water teasing our noses and mingling with the sweet scent of victory. Tonight, we’re more than partners, we’re architects of our future, crafting what comes next: one call, one sip, one moment at a time.
“Okay,” she breathes out,her last call wrapping up as the scent of garlic and sesame sneaks under the door. “All set.”
“Perfect timing.” I push off from the couch. The hallway feels shorter than usual, anticipation pulling me forward.
The delivery guy at the door nods with a knowing smile. My regular takeout spot never fails to deliver comfort wrapped in foil containers. Tonight, it’s more than just food, it’s a feast marking the eve of a final battle.
“Everything is confirmed for the morning,” Chloe says as she rises from the couch, and I can’t resist the spark of hope threading through me.
“Great. Now come over here. Let’s really celebrate.”
“Count on it.”
In the kitchen, I set the spread across the counter, unveiling dishes of steam and spice. Our makeshift banquet is ready, an assortment of flavors that somehow speaks to triumph.
Her smile is a beacon as she approaches, green eyes sparking with the same fierce determination that carried us through the storm. She’s not just the woman I’m falling for, she’s my partner in the trenches. And as she closes the distance between us, the weight of all we’ve endured seems to lift.
“Almost there,” I say, catching her hand and pulling her into the circle of my arms.
“Almost,” she echoes, her agreement wrapping around us as tightly as my arms around her waist.
Chapter 27
Chloe
“Ready for this?” Wyattasks as we walk through the glass doors of Luminous Communications, his fingers lacing tighter with mine, an anchor in the sea of corporate grandeur.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, my voice not quite as convincing as I’d hoped. Nerves jangle like loose change in my stomach.
“Remember, we’ve got backup.” He nods toward our attorney, his focus unwavering as he scans through files. Behind him, Mark and Zach follow, each a steady presence—Mark’s professional calm a contrast to Zach’s fierce loyalty. Both are here for us, a quiet assurance that we’re not alone in this.
I nod, and together we approach the elevator. The ride up feels like ascending to judgment, as each ding marks our ascent to the third floor, where many futures will be decided.
As the elevator doors slide open, a familiar figure comes into view. Lainey stands at the end of the hall, looking like a beacon of support with her sunny blond hair and an encouraging thumbs up. Her eyes meet mine, twin pools of reassurance.
“Thanks, Lainey,” I mouth back, replying to her silent gesture with a nod that I hope conveys my gratitude and a semblance of calm I’m far from feeling.
We make our way down the corridor, a path we’ve walked before but never with such weight on our shoulders. Today, every step feels definitive, every glance loaded with potential meanings. Wyatt and I are a team in whatever comes next, and with that thought, I square my shoulders and prepare to step into the conference room where our fate awaits.
The room brims with anticipation, a charged atmosphere that crackles with every rustling paper and hushed whisper. High-backed chairs encircle a polished mahogany table, and framed accolades line the walls, watching silently as if bearing witness to what will unfold.
Wyatt and I take our seats, his hand finding mine under the table—a grounding presence as the last attendees filter in. Mark and Zach position themselves on either side of us,both like silent sentinels, their expressions unreadable but resolute. Janelle takes her place at the far end, her gaze firmly set on the presentation screen. Across the table, the team owners settle into their seats, faces set in stone, while the hockey league representative, a man dressed in a sharp suit with sharper eyes, gives a curt nod for us to begin.
“Thank you all for coming,” Wyatt’s voice is steady, his blue eyes flinty with resolve as he glances toward our attorney. “We’ve called this meeting to set things straight.”
I clear my throat, feeling the weight of every eye on us. “We have evidence that will clear Wyatt’s name.” My fingers tighten around the USB drive in my pocket, the digital key to our vindication.
Our attorney stands, his movements smooth as he connects the drive to the projector. Images flicker to life on the screen: emails, texts, transaction records that Sonia willingly handed over to Wyatt, trusting he wouldn’t go public with her involvement—all paths leading back to Alec’s deception. She even agreed to post publicly that she fabricated the story about Wyatt’s supposed anger issues and verbal abuse.
As the first slide appears, a knot of apprehension tightens in my stomach. An email exchange between Alec and an unknown contact dominates the screen.
“The subject line of this email reads ‘Operation Ice Plant’,” our attorney begins. “Mr. Harding frequently used this subject line in his correspondence with several individuals.” He pauses, allowing the room to take in the significance. “In these records, Mr. Harding outlines his efforts to manipulate Mr. Banks’s public image, using information provided by a source close to Mr. Banks.”
