Chapter 71
Emma stared at the newspaper headline on her phone: "NHL Commissioner's Wife Demands Special Treatment."
"They leaked our proposal," she said, showing Alek the article over breakfast.
"Of course they did." Alek's jaw was tight as he read. "And somehow our request for transparency became me giving you 'special treatment.'"
"Listen to this," Emma read aloud. "'Sources suggest Emma Mitchell-Volkov is leveraging her marriage to gain unfair advantages in hockey broadcasting, raising questions about nepotism at the highest levels of the sport.'"
Charlotte looked up from her cereal. "Mama angry?"
"A little bit, sweetheart. But not at you."
Emma's phone immediately started buzzing with calls from reporters, sponsors, and her own team members asking for comment.
"We need to get ahead of this," Alek said, standing to pace the kitchen. "Hold a press conference, explain our actual position."
"Or we could just ignore it," Emma suggested. "Sometimes responding makes it worse."
"Emma, they're calling you a nepotism case. We can't ignore that."
Before Emma could respond, Katie burst through the front door, waving her phone.
"Have you seen the hockey blogs?" she demanded. "They're having a field day with this story."
"We've seen enough," Emma said grimly.
"Well, you need to see this one." Katie pulled up a blog post. "'The Commissioner and the Princess: How Hockey's Power Couple is Rigging the Game.'"
"Princess?" Emma's voice rose. "They're calling me a princess?"
"Focus," Alek said firmly. "The important thing is controlling the narrative from here."
"Actually," Katie interrupted, "the important thing might be this." She held up another article. "Three more NHL owners are publicly calling for your resignation, Alek."
Emma felt her stomach drop. "Three more?"
"Apparently your transparency proposal was seen as a challenge to their authority," Katie explained. "They're framing it as you trying to dictate terms to the board."
Alek stopped pacing. "Which owners?"
Katie read the names, and Emma watched Alek's expression grow increasingly grim.
"That's bad, isn't it?" Emma asked.
"That's enough votes to remove me if they want to," Alek confirmed.
Emma felt panic rising. Their attempt to solve their problems had made everything worse.
"This is my fault," she said. "I pushed for the transparency idea—"
"We decided together," Alek cut her off. "No blame, remember?"
"But if you lose your job because of my idea—"
"Then we figure out what comes next. Together."
Katie was scrolling through more articles. "Emma, you're getting support too. Look at this: 'Finally, a Hockey Power Couple That's Not Afraid to Play by New Rules.'"
"Who wrote that?"
"Female sports journalists, mostly. They're calling your transparency proposal 'revolutionary' and 'exactly what hockey needs.'"
Emma felt a tiny spark of hope. "So we're not completely alone in this?"
"Not even close," Katie said, continuing to read. "Listen to this tweet: 'If the NHL is threatened by transparency, what are they hiding?' It's been retweeted 50,000 times."
Alek's phone rang, interrupting their analysis.
"It's the board chairman," he told Emma. "I have to take this."
Emma watched him step into his office, then turned to Katie. "What if we've destroyed everything?"
"What if you've started something important?" Katie countered. "Emma, you've always said hockey needs to modernize. Maybe this is how that happens."
"By sacrificing Alek's career?"
"By proving that partnerships can make sports stronger, not weaker."
Emma wanted to believe that, but the fear of losing everything they'd built was overwhelming.
When Alek emerged from his call twenty minutes later, his expression was unreadable.
"Emergency board meeting tomorrow," he announced. "They want a formal response to the media coverage."
"What kind of response?"
"Either a public apology and agreement to their original terms, or my resignation."
Emma felt the room spin slightly. "Those are the only options?"
"According to them."
"What are you going to do?"
Alek looked at her directly. "What are we going to do, you mean."
"Alek, this is your career—"
"Our life. Our future. Our decision." His voice was firm. "So what do you think we should do?"
Emma thought about Franklin, about the risks he'd taken to build their family's legacy. About all the times he'd chosen principle over convenience.
"I think," she said slowly, "that if we apologize for asking for transparency, we're admitting there's something wrong with being transparent."
"And if I resign?"
"Then we build something new. Something better."
Alek smiled for the first time all morning. "You're sure?"
"I'm terrified. But yes, I'm sure."
Katie cleared her throat. "If I could interrupt this moment of marital unity, you might want to know that the Toronto sports network just called."
"To cancel my hosting job?" Emma asked.
"To offer you a bigger one. They want to expand the show, make it a flagship program about sports leadership and transparency. Apparently the controversy is exactly what they were hoping for."
Emma stared at her. "They want more controversy?"
"They want authenticity. And you two fighting for your principles while facing industry backlash? That's authentic."
"They also asked," Katie continued, "if you'd be willing to document tomorrow's board meeting for the show."
"Document it how?"
"Cameras. Full access. Show the world exactly what goes on when the old guard tries to protect their territory."
Emma looked at Alek. "That would be burning every bridge we have left."
"Or building new ones," Alek pointed out. "Emma, if we're going down anyway, why not go down swinging?"
"You want to let cameras film your potential resignation?"
"I want to let cameras film us standing up for what we believe in."
Emma felt something shift inside her. The fear was still there, but underneath it was something stronger - determination.
"Okay," she said. "Let's do it."
"Really?"
"Really. If they want to make this about us versus them, let's show everyone what 'us' actually looks like."
Alek pulled her into his arms. "I love you. Even if we're about to become unemployed together."
"We won't be unemployed," Emma said with sudden conviction. "We'll be pioneers."
That evening, as they put Charlotte and Frankie to bed, Emma felt strangely calm about the chaos surrounding them.
"Mama, you happy now?" Charlotte asked as Emma tucked her in.
"Yes, baby. Mama's happy."
"Good. Happy is better."
"Happy is definitely better."
After the children were asleep, Emma and Alek sat on their couch, surrounded by packing boxes and planning documents for a move that might no longer be necessary.
"No regrets?" Alek asked.
"None. You?"
"I'm scared out of my mind, but no regrets."
Emma leaned against his shoulder. "Tomorrow we find out if we're brave or just stupid."
"Why can't we be both?"
"Good point."
Outside their window, New York hummed with its usual energy, oblivious to the fact that one couple was preparing to either revolutionize professional sports or go down in flames trying.
Either way, they were doing it together.
And that, Emma thought, was worth any risk.