Chapter 22 They're Using Me To End Him
Harper's Pov,
The address Emma sent was for a coffee shop in Fremont, tucked between a vintage clothing store and a tattoo parlor. The kind of place where nobody would recognize us or care if they did.
Maya parked across the street, engine idling.
"Twenty minutes," she said. "If you're not out in twenty minutes, I'm coming in."
"She's not going to murder me in public Maya."
"She stabbed you in the back for fifty grand. I'm not taking chances." Maya's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Phone in your hand. Text me if anything feels wrong."
I got out before I could change my mind.
Through the window, I spotted Emma at a corner table, hunched over her laptop like she was trying to disappear into it.
Her hair was pulled back in a greasy ponytail, no makeup, wearing a hoodie that had seen better days. Nothing like the polished version who'd sat across from me three weeks ago, pretending to be my friend while recording every word.
The bell chimed when I pushed through the door. Emma's head snapped up and something flickered across her face; relief, maybe, or fear. Hard to tell.
I walked over and stayed standing. "You have fifteen minutes."
"Harper, thank you for—"
"Fourteen minutes and fifty seconds now. Start talking."
Emma flinched but opened her laptop, angling the screen away from the rest of the coffee shop. "Sit down. Please. You need to see this."
"I'm fine standing."
"Someone might notice if you're hovering over my shoulder looking at confidential emails." Her voice came out sharp, and there it was… a flash of the real Emma underneath the guilt. "Sit. Down."
I pulled out the chair and sat, keeping my jacket on, and my bag on my lap. Ready to bolt.
Emma turned her laptop toward me. On the screen was an email thread between her and Richard Moss, dozens of messages going back weeks.
"Scroll through it," she said, her leg bouncing under the table. "Read what he's planning."
I started scrolling, my stomach sinking with every line:
We need documentation of unstable behavior. Push Harper to discuss Crew's drug use in detail. Record if possible.
Excellent work on the contract. The assault lawsuit is perfect timing... couldn't have planned it better.
The key is getting them both to the wedding. If they show up together, it proves neither of them has learned anything. That's our closing argument.
I looked up. "Closing argument for what?"
"Keep reading." Emma's eyes darted to the door, then back to me. "It gets worse."
I scrolled further and found an attachment. A PDF labeled: LAWSON_C_TERMINATION_PROPOSAL.pdf
My hands were shaking as I opened it.
It was a formal document addressed to the Seattle Titans management team. Eighteen pages laying out a case for why Crew Lawson's contract should be voided for conduct detrimental to the team.
Medical history. Incident reports from the overdose. Screenshots of social media posts about the fake relationship. Quotes from "anonymous sources" saying Crew was unstable and Harper was a manipulative influence.
The conclusion was brutal:
Mr. Lawson's continued association with Ms. Sinclair demonstrates poor judgment and an inability to prioritize his professional responsibilities. Despite treatment, his personal life remains a PR liability that will damage the Titans brand. We recommend immediate contract termination.
"When?" The word scraped out of my throat. "When is he presenting this?"
"The day after Joel's wedding." Emma's voice was barely above a whisper. "He's already scheduled the meeting with Titans management. He's just waiting for you to show up at that wedding so he can add it as the final piece of evidence."
I stared at the screen, reading the document again because my brain refused to process it.
Richard Moss had spent weeks building a case to destroy Crew's career. And I was the weapon he was using to do it.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked. "What's your angle?"
"I don't have an angle."
"Bullshit." I shoved the laptop back toward her. "You sold me out once. Why should I believe you're not doing it again?"
"Because I quit!" Emma's voice rose, then dropped when people looked over. "I quit yesterday, Harper. I told Richard I was done and he threatened to sue me for breach of contract. I'm completely screwed either way, so I might as well try to fix some of the damage I caused."
"You can't fix this."
"No, but I can warn you." Emma pulled up another file, this one a voice recording. "Listen."
She hit play and Richard Moss's voice filled the space between us.
"Emma, I need you to understand something. Harper Sinclair is not your friend. She's a problem that needs to be eliminated, and you're helping me eliminate her. If you have any qualms about that, this is your chance to back out. But if you take my money and then develop a conscience, I will destroy you just as thoroughly as I'm destroying her. Are we clear?"
Emma's voice on the recording, smaller and scared: "We're clear."
"Good. Now, about the wedding invitation—"
Emma stopped the recording and closed her laptop. "That was two weeks ago. Right after the contract leaked and I saw what it did to you. I started recording our calls because I knew eventually he'd say something I could use."
"Use for what?"
"To prove I'm telling the truth now. To show you that Richard's not just protecting Joel's image—he's actively trying to destroy you and Crew both." Emma leaned forward. "Harper, he doesn't care about Joel's wedding. He doesn't even care about Brianna's lawsuit. All of that is just noise to distract everyone while he builds his real case against Crew."
"Why would he care that much about ruining Crew?"
"Because Crew made Joel look bad." Emma pulled up another email. "Look at this. It's from Joel to Richard, sent right after your press conference."
I read the message, my blood going cold:
Richard,
Harper completely destroyed me today. She made me look like a cheating coward on live TV and now my endorsement deals are tanking. I need you to make this go away. Whatever it costs. I want her gone and I want everyone to forget she ever existed.
And Lawson too. That smug asshole has been waiting for an excuse to make me look bad since junior hockey. Take him down with her.
"Joel wants revenge," I said slowly. "This whole thing is just Joel wanting revenge for me telling the truth about him."
"Not just revenge. Damage control." Emma pointed at another email. "Richard's argument to Joel is that if they can discredit you completely, it undermines everything you said at that press conference. People will think you made up the cheating story, that you were just a crazy ex trying to ruin Joel's wedding. And if Crew goes down with you, it proves Joel was right to be concerned about your 'poor judgment.'"
I sat back in my chair, trying to process.
This wasn't about me at all. This was about Joel's reputation. About making sure his endorsement deals came back. About rewriting history so he was the victim instead of the villain.
And Crew was just collateral damage.
"What do I do?" I asked. "If I go to the wedding, Richard uses it to destroy Crew's career. If I don't go, Joel wins anyway because I look like I'm too scared to face him."
"You need proof," Emma said. "Proof that your relationship with Crew is real. That it's not about Joel anymore. That you two are together because you actually love each other."
"How do I prove love when everyone's already decided it's fake?"
"I don't know." Emma glanced at the door again, nervous. "But you have twenty-four days to figure it out. Because once Richard walks into that meeting with the Titans, it's over. Crew's career is done."
"Does Crew know? About any of this?"
"How would he? He's locked in a facility with no phone, no internet, no contact with the outside world except supervised visits." Emma closed her laptop and started packing it into her bag, movements quick and jerky. "I need to go. I've been here too long already."
"You think Richard's watching you?"
"I know he is. He had someone follow me yesterday." Emma stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Harper, be careful. Richard's not just some sports agent protecting his client. He's got connections everywhere—media, legal, even some cops. If he decides you're a real threat, he'll find a way to make you disappear."
"I'm not disappearing."
"Then fight smart. Not hard. Smart." Emma hesitated, then pulled a flash drive from her pocket and slid it across the table. "That's everything. All the emails, the recordings, the termination proposal. If you can find a way to use it without getting both of us sued into oblivion, do it."
She walked toward the door, then turned back. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything. But I'm sorry."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the Fremont afternoon like she'd never been there at all.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at the flash drive.
Everything Richard had planned. Everything Joel wanted. All the evidence of how thoroughly they'd coordinated my destruction.
And I had no idea what to do with it.