Chapter 215

Chapter 215
Elora

Richard freezes mid-gesture, his politician's smile flickering for just a second—a crack in the marble facade. The emcee beside him reaches for my arm, her practiced professionalism crumbling into panic.

"Miss Frost, if you could please—"

I pivot on my blade, the movement effortless, muscle memory carrying me just out of her reach. The microphone stays firmly in my grip as I circle back, my voice cutting through the arena with crystal clarity.

"Oh, please don't interrupt." I let the words hang there, sharp as the edge of my skate. "I'm having a conversation with Richard." I pause, letting my gaze sweep across the crowd before landing back on him with deliberate weight. "We're practically family, surely I can ask him a few questions?"

The shift in Richard's expression is almost imperceptible—a tightening around his eyes, a fraction of tension in his jaw. He doesn't know what game I'm playing, but he's too experienced to show confusion in front of cameras.

Perfect.

Because I know exactly what matters to Richard Rhodes. Not justice. Not fairness. Not even his son. Just his pristine, carefully curated reputation. And if I publicly cement our connection right here, right now, in front of thousands of witnesses and live cameras, he can't touch this competition. He wouldn't dare risk the optics of manipulating a contest involving his future daughter-in-law.

The silence stretches for another beat before Richard's politician instincts kick in. His smile widens, warm and paternal, as he spreads his hands in a gesture of amused indulgence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse the interruption!" His voice booms across the arena, commanding attention with practiced ease. "This is my son's girlfriend—Elora Frost. Perhaps you've heard of her? The young woman who's overcome psoriasis, who's stood against bullying, who's become a symbol of resilience and empowerment in women's athletics. And today, I have the honor of watching her compete alongside these other incredible athletes."

The applause erupts instantly, a wave of sound that makes my teeth ache.

Of course. My smile doesn't waver even as fury coils tight in my chest. Turn it into another political soundbite. Another photo op for your campaign.

But this time, I'm not letting you control the narrative.

"You're too kind, Richard." I inject just enough warmth into my voice to sell the familiarity while keeping my spine straight as steel. "Though I have to correct you on one thing—I'm just an athlete. A very ordinary one, actually. All those other labels you mentioned? The survivor narrative, the empowerment angle, the whole inspirational story?" I pause, letting the crowd lean in. "None of that has anything to do with what happens on this ice. This is about competition. Pure skill. May the best skater win—regardless of their backstory or connections. You'd agree with that, wouldn't you?"

Richard's eyes narrow fractionally. The look he shoots me is brief but unmistakable: What the hell are you doing?

But he's trapped, and we both know it. He nods, the movement stiff despite his maintained smile.

"Oh, please don't interrupt." I let the words hang there, sharp as the edge of my skate. "I'm having a conversation with Richard. We're practically family—surely I can ask him a few questions?"

"Of course," he says carefully. "Athletic competition should always be decided by merit alone."

"Wonderful!" I beam at him like he's just said something profound.

Richard's politician instincts seem to kick back in, perhaps sensing an opportunity to regain control. "So, Elora—what question did you want to ask me?"

I tap the microphone thoughtfully, as if just remembering. "Oh, it's simple, really. Who do you think is going to win today?"

The question lands like a grenade in a silent room.

His smile falters for real this time. "Well, I... that is to say, all of these young women are exceptionally—"

"You think I'm going to win, don't you?" I cut him off smoothly, my tone light and conversational. "I mean, we're practically family. It would make sense if you were rooting for me."

His face goes carefully blank. "Elora, I don't have any particular preference—"

"Of course you do." I tilt my head, letting my voice carry across the silent arena. "Your future daughter-in-law competing? How could you not have a favorite?" I gesture toward the judges' panel. "And them? They wouldn't dream of letting personal factors influence their scores, would they? Inspiring backstories, powerful connections, all that empowerment narrative you just sold to the crowd—none of that matters when they're holding up those score cards, right?"

Richard's jaw locks tight. The muscle in his cheek twitches.

"Absolutely not." His voice drops to ice. "With me present, this competition will be completely impartial. No considerations. No special treatment. I guarantee it."

"Damn." I let genuine disappointment bleed into my tone, my shoulders sagging. "Here I thought having you show up would actually help me." I pause, then flash him a bright smile. "Oh well! Guess I'll have to win on my own merit. Thanks for clearing that up, Richard. Let's celebrate together after I take gold, yeah?"

Before he can respond, I close the distance between us and wrap him in a brief hug. His body goes rigid with shock, and I can practically feel the fury radiating off him in waves.

The crowd erupts—not in applause this time, but in a mixture of boos and shocked exclamations. They think I'm openly lobbying for special treatment. Demanding preferential judging. Using my connection to Richard Rhodes to corrupt the competition.

Perfect.

Because while they're busy being outraged at my supposed audacity, Richard is busy protecting his reputation. And that means ensuring this competition is the fairest it's ever been—if only to prove he can't be manipulated by his son's girlfriend.

I release him and skate backward toward the edge of the rink, my smile never wavering despite the hostile energy crackling through the arena. As I step off the ice and head toward the changing area, I catch fragments of conversation from the other competitors.

"What the fuck?" Petra's voice carries, sharp with disbelief. "Did she seriously just demand special treatment? In front of everyone?"

But then Chen Wei's quieter voice cuts through: "No. Look at his face. She just backed him into a corner. This is the fairest this competition will ever be."

I glance back to see Richard's expression—tight with barely suppressed rage as he waves off the emcee and returns to his seat. His entire posture screams frustration, but he can't do anything about it now. Not without confirming every accusation I just invited.

"She's protecting the integrity of the competition," Yuki Tanaka adds, her tone thoughtful. "By making it impossible for Rhodes to interfere without destroying his reputation."

Natasha's expression shifts from hostility to grudging respect. "Holy shit. Elora, I... I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Don't worry about it." I cut her off as I reach the bench, my fingers already working at the laces of my warm-up jacket. "I didn't do this for you."

They all turn to look at me, confusion replacing their earlier anger.

I meet their gazes one by one, letting a slow smile spread across my face. "I did it so that when you lose, you'll have no excuses. No conspiracy theories. No convenient scapegoat." My smile sharpens. "Just the cold, hard reality that you weren't good enough."