Chapter 183: I Broke Down.

STEPHEN’S POV

The silence in the room was fucking heavy. Watching Ryan break down and bury his face in his hands should have felt like winning the goddamn lottery, but my chest just felt tight.

I sat there, my hands clasped tightly between my knees, listening to the legal counsel read off the final testimonies like a goddamn death sentence.

"According to the finalized digital forensic report," the camp lawyer read, his voice completely robotic and devoid of any fucking emotion, "the financial links between the offshore account registered under Ryan Miller and the media broker are undeniable. Furthermore, we have recovered a series of encrypted messages from the server. They show direct communication regarding the distribution of the private footage."

Every single word felt like a punch to the gut. Not because I felt bad for the piece of shit sitting across from us, but because hearing it out loud just reminded me of how fucked up the whole situation was.

This motherfucker had looked us in the eye every single day on the pitch, pretending to be a teammate, while actively trying to destroy our lives for a quick paycheck.

Fifteen grand. That’s what we were worth to him.

"The leaked messages also detail specific timelines," the lawyer continued, turning a page. "Including instructions on how to maximize online traffic to ensure the video reached specific athletic scouts before the upcoming draft."

"Jesus Christ," Coach Vance muttered from the corner, rubbing a hand over his face.

He looked ten years older. The old man prided himself on running a clean program, and Ryan had dragged his entire legacy through the fucking mud.

I glanced over at Hayden. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might actually shatter. His eyes were fixed on Ryan, cold and totally predatory. Hayden was enjoying the slaughter, but me? I just felt a deep, exhausting emptiness.

The anger that had been burning a hole in my stomach for weeks was suddenly turning into ash. I was just so fucking tired. Tired of the whispers, tired of the stares, and tired of wondering if my entire future was going to be flushed down the toilet because of a greedy snake.

Mr. Harrison, the Athletic Chairman, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked around the table at the other members of the disciplinary board.

"I believe we have heard more than enough. The evidence isn't just circumstantial…. it’s absolute. We will now move to a vote on the immediate disciplinary action regarding Ryan Miller."

Ryan lifted his head from his hands. His eyes were red, puffy, and wide with sheer panic. "Please, Mr. Harrison. Don't do this. My family... my career. I’ve worked my entire life for the draft. If you do this, I’m fucking ruined!"

"You should have thought about that before you sold out your teammates, you piece of shit," I muttered under my breath.

The board members didn't even look at him. They didn't give a single fuck about his tears. One by one, they raised their hands. It didn't take more than ten seconds. It was a unanimous vote.

The trap had officially snapped shut, and Ryan was caught right in the fucking middle of it.

Mr. Harrison cleared his throat, stacking the papers neatly back into the manila folder. The sound was like a gavel hitting a block.

"Ryan Miller," Mr. Harrison announced, his voice echoing off the walls of the conference room. "As of this exact moment, your membership to this athletic camp is officially revoked. You are permanently banned from participating in any training, facilities, or events associated with this program."

Ryan let out a sharp, pathetic gasp, his face turning a sickly shade of green.

"Furthermore," Mr. Harrison continued, leaning forward to deliver the final, crushing blow, "under the terms of our corporate bylaws, this ban extends to any professional club or organization that sponsors or partners with this camp. A formal report of these findings will be forwarded directly to the national athletic board and every scout on our registry. Your athletic status is completely stripped. You are done."

Permanently banned and stripped of everything.

It was a total, absolute execution.

In less than five minutes, Ryan’s entire life, his future, his dreams of playing professional soccer, and his fucking reputation were completely wiped off the board.

He was radioactive now. No club in the country would touch him with a ten-foot pole. Ryan sat frozen, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. The reality of what he had just lost seemed to hit him all at once, crushing the breath right out of his lungs.

"Get your things and get off my camp," Coach Vance barked, his voice vibrating with absolute disgust. "If I see your face near the pitch or the dorms after noon today, I’ll have campus security throw your pathetic ass out in handcuffs."

Ryan stumbled out of his chair, his legs shaking so badly he almost tripped over the trash can.

He didn't say another word. He just dragged his miserable, broken body out of the conference room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Hayden, Stephen," Mr. Harrison said, looking over at us with a softer expression. "I want to apologize on behalf of the board. This should have never happened. We will be releasing a formal statement to the media clearing both of your names entirely."

"Thank you, sir," Hayden said, his voice smooth and steady.

I just nodded, unable to find the words.

We stood up, excused ourselves, and walked out into the quiet hallway.

As the door clicked shut behind us, I leaned my back against the wall and let out a long, shaky breath. Hayden looked at me, a dark smirk still playing on his lips.

"We got the bastard," Hayden said, slamming a fist into his open palm. "He’s fucking dead, Stephen. We won."

I looked down the empty hallway where Ryan had just disappeared. Hayden was right.

We won.

The bad guy was gone, and our names were clear. But as I stood there, feeling the massive weight of the last few weeks finally lifting off my shoulders, I didn't feel like celebrating.

I didn't feel any fucking satisfaction at all.

I just felt completely, utterly exhausted.