Chapter 191

Noah

“I have everything on you.” My blood ran cold at the sound of his laugh.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my cheek, his smile like a blade sinking slow and deep.

I clenched my jaw. “What can you possibly do to me now? You already exposed us. Aiden is already in trouble. I’ve already lost my career. What else is left?”

He straightened his jacket, the picture of calm authority. “You misunderstand me, son. I didn’t expose you to the world. I exposed you to the college—and they will never, ever take this public. Do you truly believe Hawkswell will destroy their own reputation by admitting they hired a corrupted teacher? A sex offender? Of course not. They’ll bury it under a mountain of confidentiality agreements and polished statements about ‘internal misconduct.’”

My stomach twisted.

He was right.

I knew he was right.

He stepped closer, voice lowering to a cutting whisper. “And you heard him. Aiden was stupid enough to blame himself. To say he coerced you.” His eyes glinted with sick satisfaction. “And you will let him.”

My pulse crashed so hard it hurt. “I will never—”

“Yes, you will.” His hand clamped around my shoulder, forcing stillness into me. “Because as long as he blames himself, this entire situation stays private. The school will treat it as a mistake, a scandal they quietly corrected by firing him. You will continue to play football. You will remain the innocent victim. Your precious coach will be free to find a job elsewhere and keep his status as Mr. A.… and yes, I do know about that little club.”

My breath caught. “What club?”

He smiled like a hunter who’d cornered wounded prey. “Dominion.” He let the word linger. “Do you think I don’t know what he is? A fucking queer. A dom. A man who trains submissives. A man whose lifestyle relies entirely on trust. Now, imagine what would happen if the media learned that such a man forced himself onto his own player.”

I tried to move, but he pushed me harder into the wall, his fingers digging into my arms.

“He would lose everything. The club. His career. His ability to work with youth. His credibility. His future. No one in this country would hire him—not as a coach, not as a trainer, not as a volunteer. He would be a predator for life, and that I swear.”

“Are you threatening me?” I whispered.

“No, Noah. I’m offering you a gift. Right now, with my silence, he can rebuild. Move. Start over. And to the school, you get to stay the victim. The innocent. The promising young star whose reputation remains untarnished.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “And if I tell the truth? If I say we were in a relationship? That he never forced me?”

He smirked. “Then you lose your career… and your family ends up on the street by the end of the week. My lawyers will pull every protection. Every restraining order. Every relocation arrangement. Your very angry father will have access to them again. And I will void every handshake agreement about your contracts. No one has officially signed you yet—in fact, every process is scheduled to be finalized only after the wedding. One word from me… and you are all penniless. Hell, once I’m on a roll, I bet you anything my lawyers can pin on your lover a few other harassment cases that will put him straight in jail. Now, wouldn’t that be a turn of events…?”

My breath shook. “You are a monster…”

“No,” he murmured, almost gently. “I don’t want to destroy any of you. I want you to understand the two roads ahead. On one path, you lose everything you love—and so does he. On the other? You keep your damn mouth shut, marry my daughter, smile for the cameras, and I make you a star. Your mother and sister remain safe. You continue your career. Aiden stays out of prison, his reputation intact. Everyone you care about lives.”

He paused, letting the trap settle around me like iron bars.

It was suffocating how right he was.

How inescapable.

I forced out, “And if I lose my career… what good is your contract to you? Why keep it? Why want it? What’s the point of managing a football player who can’t play?”

His smile deepened, slow and cruel.

“Oh, Noah… you think your value to me ends with football?” He brushed imaginary dust from my jersey. “You signed over more than your sports career. You gave me rights over your likeness, your public image, your endorsements, your brand. Even if football dies, I still own the story of the fallen hero. Documentaries. Interviews. Books. Public appearances. I will make sure everyone understands your denial as severe Stockholm Syndrome—most common effect in these cases. That, combined with rehab specials, abuse recovery arcs, and blah, blah… and your pain becomes highly marketable content. Your downfall becomes profit.”

He leaned even closer, voice cold enough to freeze bone.

“So no matter what happens, you remain mine. Football or no football. Fame or ruin. You belong to my contract. And I always ensure my investments pay.”

My stomach sank.

He had closed every exit.

Every loophole.

Every dream.

He stepped back slightly, studying the devastation on my face.

“There,” he said softly. “Now you understand.”

I felt myself deflate, the fight draining out of me as the truth settled in my bones. This was a game for William. He had found not only a brilliant investment in me but also a challenge and a way to test his power. And somewhere beneath the terror and humiliation, a memory hit me—the letter Aiden had written months ago, the one he slipped into my hands the night everything started to crack. The one where he had warned me that if anyone found out, he would take the blame. He had already planned the damage control long before either of us realized how dangerous William really was. Aiden hadn’t just prepared for the worst. He had prepared for William specifically. He had known exactly how this man thought, and he had built our escape route with the only tool available: sacrifice.

And now it was my turn.

I lifted my head, finally meeting William’s eyes. My voice came out quiet but steady, scraped raw but resolute. “Fine. I’ll do it. All of it.”

A slick smile crossed his face—victory, satisfaction, triumph disguised as paternal approval. “Good choice, son.” The word son made my stomach twist. “We’ll be waiting in the car. Our celebration weekend awaits.” His condescending tone lingered in the air as he turned away, smirking, already pulling out his phone to call someone—probably his lawyers, probably the rest of the family, probably whoever was waiting to parade me like a trophy.

The second he was gone, my body gave out. I let myself slide down the wall until I was sitting on the cold floor, hands trembling, breath coming in uneven pulls that hurt more than the bruise spreading across my jaw. I closed my eyes and pressed the back of my head against the wall, trying to steady myself enough to stand. I wasn’t free. Nowhere near. But I wasn’t done either—not by a long shot. Aiden had placed his trust in me even when he didn’t realize it. And now, even trapped, even caged, even forced into a life I didn’t choose… I would hold the line for us.

I would keep quiet.

I would play their game.

I would walk out of this room in one piece.

And when the moment came, I would find a way to reach him—if only to tell him I was okay, that I loved him, that I understood exactly what he had done for me, and that I wasn’t finished fighting for us… even if I had to let everything go for now.

I took one long breath, pushed myself to my feet, and wiped my face with shaking hands.

Then I walked toward the door.