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The Ultimatum

Author: Esther
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-06-22 01:25:01

Summer

"Absolutely not."

Summer stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor of Professor Harrison’s office.

“With all due respect, Ms. Sterling, I am a journalist. I have spent the last three years writing investigative pieces for the campus paper about the unchecked privilege of the athletic department. Jaxson Reed is a violent liability. I won't be used as a prop to clean up his mess."

Sarah Sterling didn't even blink.

She casually leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs.

“I’ve read your articles, Summer. That’s exactly why I want you. If we cast a sorority girl who swoons every time Reed looks her way, the audience will see right through it. It looks like a PR stunt. But you? You look at him like he’s something you want to wipe off the bottom of your shoe. That’s tension. That’s television gold."

"It’s dishonest," Summer countered, her chest heaving. "It’s a lie."

"It's a contract," Sarah corrected her smoothly.

She pulled a thick, document sealed folder from her designer bag and placed it on the desk between them.

“Let’s talk numbers, because Professor Harrison tells me you’re about to be dropped from the university roster due to non-payment."

Summer stiffened.

She shot a glare at her professor, who looked away with a guilty expression.

"Summer, be realistic," Professor Harrison said softly.

“The journalism industry is brutal. Millions of graduates compete for unpaid internships. HypeTV is offering you a direct pipeline to a major network network anchor track, on top of clearing your debt. You can use this experience to understand the business from the inside."

"By selling my soul?" Summer whispered.

"By playing a character," Sarah Sterling said, tapping the folder.

“Here are the terms. Twelve weeks of filming. You will attend all home hockey games, sit in the family box, and accompany Jaxson to three high profile charity galas. You will participate in up to four scripted 'date' segments per month for the show. In exchange, HypeTV writes a check directly to the university bursar's office tomorrow morning covering your remaining balance. Upon completion of the season, you receive a $20,000 stipend and a signed contract for an assistant producer role at our NYC studio."

Twenty thousand dollars.

Her tuition cleared.

Her future secured.

Summer looked down at her worn sneakers.

She thought about her mom, who was currently working double shifts at a grocery store to help pay for her younger brother’s braces.

She thought about her dad’s tired, broken expression when he told her he couldn't help her with school anymore.

If she refused this, she would be packing her bags by the weekend.

Her dreams of becoming a network reporter would die before they even started.

"What are the boundaries?" Summer asked, her voice trembling slightly. "With... with Reed."

"The contract explicitly states no forced physical intimacy beyond public displays of affection deemed necessary for the narrative—holding hands, a hug, a casual kiss for the cameras," Sarah said.

“We aren't producing an adult film, Summer. We are producing a romance. You two don't even have to like each other when the cameras are off. In fact, we prefer if you keep your distance so the on-camera chemistry stays fresh."

Summer closed her eyes.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a leap into a dark, volatile canyon.

"I want a clause," Summer said, opening her eyes and looking directly into Sarah’s calculating gaze.

“I want full editorial control over any personal video diaries I record for the show. And I want it in writing that my name will not be associated with any PR defenses of his alleged assault. I am his girlfriend for the show, but I am not his legal defense team."

Sarah’s smile widened.

“Done. We’ll have the revised contracts ready for signatures at five o'clock in the athletic center VIP lounge. Your co-star will be waiting."

Co-star. The word tasted bitter.

Summer nodded slowly, her hand shaking as she reached out to touch the edge of the folder.

She had just sold her final semester to the devil, and his name was Jaxson Reed.

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  • Love on Thin Ice   Seminar Welfare and friction

    JaxsonThe academic building always smelled like old paper, damp concrete, and over-brewed coffee, but today, the air inside Room 304 felt entirely devoid of oxygen. It was the final, mandatory senior seminar for Political Science and International Relations—a grueling, three-hour block that usually required a steady stream of caffeine just to survive. Today, I didn’t need caffeine. The sheer, unadulterated venom racing through my veins was more than enough to keep me awake."Find your seats, everyone," Professor Harrison announced, his voice dry as he adjusted a stack of grading rubrics at the podium. “As a reminder, your final senior presentations account for forty percent of your course grade. There will be no extensions. The NHL draft declarations, athletic banquets, and media internships do not exempt anyone from the intellectual requirements of this department."I didn't move from my spot against the back wall, my leather duffel bag resting heavily against my combat boots.

  • Love on Thin Ice   The Reset To Zero

    SummerThe neon-lit chaos of the post-game wrap-up felt like a physical assault on my senses. While the rest of the campus erupted into a drunken, euphoric celebration of the National Championship, the HypeTV production trailer was a quiet, clinical vacuum of moving paper and ticking clocks."Sign here, Summer. And here. Initial the bottom of page four," Sarah Sterling said, her voice completely devoid of its usual performative warmth. She didn't look up from her tablet, her manicured finger tapping rhythmically on the edge of her glass desk.My hand shook so violently I could barely keep the pen steady. I dragged the blue ink across the lines, signing away the rights to the last six months of my life. The Heartbreak Finale. That was what the producers were calling it in the edit bays. They had their narrative: the tragic hero who won the trophy but lost his heart to a calculating, deceitful student journalist. It was neat. It was viral. It was exactly what the ratings demand

  • Love on Thin Ice   The Bitter Gold

    JaxsonThe ice beneath my blades didn't feel like ice anymore. It felt like concrete.The roar of ten thousand people inside the Eastern Arena was a deafening, vibrating wall of sound that rattled the plexiglass and made the floorboards shudder, but it didn't reach me. I was trapped in a vacuum of pure, freezing silence. Every breath I took tasted like copper, stale sweat, and old blood. My chest felt hollowed out, as if someone had reached inside my ribcage during the morning skate, wrapped their fingers around my heart, and ripped out everything that made me human.A business transaction. Nothing more.The words repeated in my head with every stride, every crossover, every sharp turn during the final warmup skate. I could see the flashing smartphones in the stands, students holding up signs, the HypeTV steadicams tracking my every move along the boards. They wanted the tragic hero. They wanted the betrayed captain. The network producers were probably salivating behind their

  • Love on Thin Ice   The Abrupt Brake

    SummerThe rain wasn't just falling; it was a physical weight slamming against the asphalt, drumming a frantic, chaotic rhythm into my skull. My canvas sneakers were completely soaked through, the freezing water numbing my toes, but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything over the deafening roar of my own pulse. Every breath I took felt sharp, thin, and entirely inadequate to fill the hollow ache expanding in my chest."Summer, hurry!" Chloe’s voice gasped ahead of me, her hand cutting through the downpour as she pulled me by the wrist. She slammed her shoulder against the heavy steel door of the main broadcast control truck, her master key card flashing a brief, mechanical green against the scanner before the lock clicked open. "I’ve got the primary feed bypassed. The director is tracking the pre-game warmups on monitor four, but if I patch your laptop into the main switcher right now, we can override the stadium projector before the first puck drops."I stumbled into the n

  • Love on Thin Ice   The Final Hour

    SummerThe rain was pouring down in sheets on Saturday night, matching the bleak, suffocating blackness that had taken over my life. I was sick to my stomach. The Eastern University arena was glowing like a massive, silver spaceship in the dark, the parking lot packed with thousands of cars for the National Championship game against State. The noise from inside was a muffled, rhythmic thrum—the sound of ten thousand fans waiting for the final showdown.I sat on the concrete stairs of the communication building across the quad, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, my denim jacket soaked through with freezing water.My tuition was paid. My New York contract was confirmed. My future was perfectly secured on paper. I had everything I had spent four years starving for. And I had never felt more completely dead inside.A lot was going through my mind. I didn’t realize when Chloe walked up to me. "Summer?"I looked up through the curtain of wet hair to see Chloe standing there, holdi

  • Love on Thin Ice   The Breaking Point

    JaxsonThe locker room on Friday morning didn't have any music playing.Usually, the walls would be vibrating with heavy bass, guys shouting over the noise, equipment slamming, and the raw energy of a team forty-eight hours away from a national title. But when I walked in at seven-thirty, my gear bag over my shoulder, the atmosphere was like a morgue.Nobody looked at me. The usual morning chatter died instantly. The guys were all huddled around Miller’s locker in the corner, their faces grim, staring down at a single smartphone screen."What's going on?" I asked, dropping my heavy bag onto the wooden bench. The metallic clink of my skates felt too loud. “Did the line changes drop? Is someone scratched?"Miller looked up, his face pale, his eyes full of a sudden, deep pity that made my stomach instantly drop into a cold, dark pit. He looked like he was about to tell me someone had died. “Jax... man, I'm sorry. You need to see this. It dropped on the HypeTV app ten minutes ago."

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