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Aria’s POV
“Let’s stay focused,” I reminded Mason, flipping open my notebook The red light blinks on. “Rolling?” I glanced at my cameraman. “Rolling,” he confirmed. “Captain Mason,” I looked at him trying to maintain my composure. “Your team is a few games from the championship. What changed this season?” Mason leaned back slightly. “Discipline,” he muttered. “Consistency and practice.” I noticed he wasn’t really looking at the camera, his attention was focused on me but I ignored it. “Last season, critics said your leadership was… inconsistent,” I continued. “What do you say to that now?” A faint smirk appeared on his lips. “Critics talk,” he said proudly. “We win.” A few quiet chuckles were heard behind the camera. I tapped the pen against my notebook nervously. “Your line has the highest scoring rate in the league right now,” I pressed further with my questions. “But there are reports of tension among your teammates, especially after last week’s game. Isn’t that going to affect your team performance?” This time, I noticed his gaze sharpened. “Who told you that?” My expression didn’t change, I tried masking it with seriousness. “I’m asking the questions.” “Next question,” he refused to give an answer to that. My jaw tightened slightly, but I didn't react. I dived into another question. “Your performance personally,twenty-two goals this season, leading the league. But some analysts say you’ve been playing more aggressively than usual. Taking risks you didn’t before.” I tilted my head slightly. “Why now?” He chuckled but not in an amused way. “Why did you leave?” This time he looked at me intensely. I went completely still for a moment. The cameraman shifted behind me. That wasn’t on the list. “That’s not relevant to this interview,” I whispered nervously. Mason leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. “Five years,” he murmured, pretending like he didn’t hear what I had said. “And that’s what you open with? Hockey?” My pulse quickened. “Please,” I inhaled, trying to keep calm. “Can we come back to the important part?” His gaze darkens. “Exactly,” he murmured. “The important part.” Behind the camera, someone clears their throat. I flipped my page. “Final question,” I rushed out, wanting to leave. “You’re heading into the biggest games of your career. Pressure, expectations, everything is on you.” I meet his eyes fully now. “What happens if you lose?” He reached forward, not to touch me, but to adjust the mic clipped too close to my collar. His fingers brush my skin. My breath hitched just for a second, my thoughts running wild. He noticed it. Before I could say a word he began. “I can’t lose and-“ But he got cut off by someone, who rushed to him, whispering something in his ears. I didn’t know what was being said but from the expression I saw on Mason’s face it wasn’t good. “We are done here.” He stood up immediately, rushing out before I could say anything. ———————— After the interview, I stopped by the café to see my friend, Brielle. The café was loud and warm. I stirred my drink slowly, but my mind wasn’t there. Across me, Brielle leaned forward immediately. “So?” she said, eyes wide. “Tell me everything. How did it go?” I hesitated. That alone made Brielle lean in more. “Don’t tell me you saw him,” she said slowly. I nodded. “…I did.” The table went silent for half a second. Then she squealed loudly. “Brielle!” I gave her a sharp glance, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry.” She pouted her mouth. “ But wait—wait—Mason? Like Mason Mason?” Brielle blinked. “After five years?” I gave a small, tired breath. “Yes.” “Oh my God,” she leaned back, hand on her chest. “Okay, how did it go? Like… is he still—” I cut in quietly. “I don’t know.” Brielle frowned immediately. “What do you mean you don’t know?” My fingers tightened slightly around my cup, I briefly thought back to the interview I had an hour ago. “I didn’t really look at him, nor made any personal conversation with him.” I admitted. “Girl…” I shook my head quickly, like it could erase the moment. “I was working. I had the camera, the questions, everything—just… doing my job.” “You’re dodging.” “I’m not.” “You are.” I sighed tiredly. “…Are you okay?” Brielle's tone was calmer this time. “I didn’t have a choice,” I murmured in a low tone. “It’s my assignment. That’s what my work requires.” Brielle leaned forward again. “But after everything? You’re just… fine standing in front of him like that?” I pressed my lips together. Nothing about it had felt fine, not his voice, not his eyes but I said nothing. “Okay… but be honest with me,” Brielle stared at me closely. “You feel something, don’t you?” I immediately shook my head. “No.” “Five years…” she murmured. “And the first time you see him again is as your assignment. That’s insane.” I looked down at my cup. “Yeah.” Insane was one word for it. ————————————- The moment I got to the newsroom, I knew I was in for a lot today. The newsroom was louder than usual. Phones ringing. Keyboards clicking. Headlines flashing across screens. I stood in front of the glass office, my fingers curled around the folder. My name was already called. “Aria, come in.” I stepped inside. The atmosphere shifted immediately. My editor, Mr. Daniels, didn’t look up from his screen. Two senior journalists sat nearby watching. That was never a good sign. “Sit,” Daniels said flatly. I sat immediately. “You’ve been here for how long?” he asked. “Four years,” I replied. He finally looked at me. “And you’re still stuck in the same position.” My jaw tightened slightly. “I’ve been waiting for the promotion cycle.” One of the senior journalists scoffed lightly. “Everyone is.” Daniels leaned back. “Let me be honest with you, Aria.” That made me straighten. “We’re not seeing growth in your recent work.” My grip tightened on my folder. “That’s not true,” I interrupted. “My last pieces performed well—” “We’re not talking about performance,” he cut in. “We’re talking about impact.” That word hit differently. He tapped the table. “Do you want to move up in this industry or not?” I didn’t answer immediately because I already knew where this was going. Daniels slid a file toward me. “Captain Mason Rossi.” My stomach dropped slightly but I didn’t react. “You interviewed him,” he continued. “But that wasn’t an interview.” He leaned forward. “That was surface-level reporting. You sat in front of one of the biggest athletes in the league and gave us nothing new.” One of the journalists added, “No insight. No exclusives. No angle.” I swallowed. “I asked professional questions.” “And he gave you professional answers,” Daniels replied. “Which means you didn’t push far enough.” “He left in a hurry.” I added. “We need more.” My pulse slowed, I already knew what “more” meant. Daniels slid another paper forward. “This is your new assignment.” I looked down. “…What is this?” Daniels didn’t hesitate. “We want full coverage on him. Everything,” he said. “Training updates. Off-field behavior. Team dynamics. Public rumors. Private inconsistencies.” One of the journalists added casually, “And if there’s anything he’s hiding, we find it.” My expression tightened. “That’s not journalism,” I said quietly. Daniels raised a brow. “No?” he asked. “Then what is it?” No one answered. He continued. “You want a promotion, Aria? Then earn it. From today, you’re leading this.” My breath caught slightly. “…Leading what?” “The Mason Rossi coverage unit.” Now all eyes were on me. Daniels’ voice dropped slightly. “And listen carefully. If you get close to him good, if he trusts you—better and if you uncover something no one else has?” He smiled brightly.“Then you finally move forward in this company.” I slowly stood up and turned to leave. Then Daniels added one last thing. “Oh—and Aria?” I paused. “You don’t get to fail this one, especially if you love your job.”Mason's POVI left very early to go to a bar.This bar was the kind of place Coach Lawson loved. He loves coming here early in the morning. It was tucked away on a side street that most people wouldn't notice, it smelled like old wood and spilled whiskey. I'd been here a few times before, usually after games. My coach had brought me here multiple times , especially when I was still young and stupid and thought I knew everything. He'd told me then that this was his spot, his sanctuary, the one place where he could escape from the noise of his life.I was hoping it would be my sanctuary too.The door creaked as I pushed it open, and the bartender glanced up, recognizing me immediately. He nodded toward the back corner, where a familiar silhouette was hunched over a glass.Coach Lawson.I walked toward him, my footsteps heavy on the worn wooden floor. He didn't look up when I approached. He just sat there, staring at the amber liquid in his glass like it held all the answers."Coach,"
Third Person POVThe elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Jeffrey stepped out into the penthouse hallway.His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched, his entire body humming with the kind of exhaustion that came from a long day of practice.His suit jacket was slung over one arm, his tie loosened, his shirt untucked.But the moment he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he knew he wasn't going to get what he wanted.The lights were on.Every single one of them.And his father was sitting in the center of the living room like a king on his throne.Senator William Kyler was a tall man, broad-shouldered and commanding, with the kind of presence that made rooms feel smaller. His silver hair was immaculately styled, his suit impeccable, his posture rigid. He didn't look up when Jeffrey walked in. He just sat there, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes fixed on the city skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows."Six o'clock in the morning," his father said without turni
"They raised you, and then they spent years tearing you down." I reached over and took her hand. "You've done more than enough for them. You're allowed to take care of yourself now."She squeezed my hand. "When did you get so wise?""Always been wise. You just never listened." I bragged, flapping my hand like a fan.She chuckled. "You're crazy.""You love me like that." I gloated."Someone has to keep you humble."I smiled, feeling some of the tension leave my body. It was good to see her smile again. "Okay," I said, settling back into the couch. "Now that we've dealt with your crisis, I have something to tell you."Brielle raised an eyebrow. "Oh?""Yeah." I took a breath. "I'm having dinner with Mason tomorrow night, and yes, I told you about it but I need your real thoughts on this, not as a friend."“Should it be like an interview setting, where I pretend I don’t know you and ask you some questions.” She looked more excited about this.“Yes, we can have it that way.” I was skeptic
Aria POVI had gone to pick up my package but unfortunately the shop had not opened yet when I got there.So I decided to go to Brielle's apartment.The door to Brielle's apartment was slightly ajar.That was the first sign that something was wrong. Brielle was obsessive about locking her door, she'd been robbed once, years ago, and ever since, she'd treated every lock like it was a matter of life and death.I pushed the door open slowly, my heart already starting to race."Brielle?" I called out. "You here?"No answer.I stepped inside and immediately froze.The apartment was a disaster. Clothes were strewn across the floor and everywhere I looked, there were bottles.Wine bottles, liquor bottles. Some empty, some half-full, some still sealed.My stomach dropped. "Brielle?" I called again, my voice sharper this time.A groan came from the bedroom.I crossed the apartment in three quick strides, pushing open the bedroom door.Brielle was sprawled across her bed, still in her clothes
The hallway was empty when I stepped out of the study.My mother was waiting for me by the front door, she looked worried.I was surprised to see her standing there."Are you okay? Did your father do anything to you? What did he say?" she rushed her words.I shook my head. “I’m fine, he can’t do anything to me.”She studied me for a moment, then pulled me into a final embrace."I'm sorry that I couldn’t stand up for you then, when your father was against you." Her eyes were misty. "I just want you to know that I've always been proud of you."I held her close. It was actually the first time she had apologized to me since what happened then, and strangely, I felt a bit relieved, like a load had been lifted off my chest slightly."Thank you," I smiled at her."Anytime, my son. I love you."I pulled back, kissed her cheek, and walked out the door.I couldn’t hold back the smile that danced across my face. I looked back at the house before entering my car.---Third Person POVThe Rossi e
Mason's POVThe Rossi estate loomed in front of me like a monument to everything I'd spent my life trying to escape.That evening, I drove to my parents house.I sat in my car for a long moment, engine idling, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles had gone white. The house hadn't changed. It never did. It had always felt more like a prison than a home.I didn't want to be here.Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to turn the car around, to drive away, to pretend I'd never received that call from my father's assistant demanding my presence.But I couldn't.I killed the engine and stepped out into the cold afternoon air.The walk to the front door felt endless. The door swung open before I could reach for the handle, and there she was.My mother.Katherine Rossi stood in the doorway like she'd been waiting for me. Her hair was perfectly styled, her dress immaculate, even her expression carefully composed. "Mason," she said softly. "You came."I forced a ne
Sylvie POVHis eyes flicked to me. “He talks too much,” he grumbled slightly.That made me almost smile.I opened my notebook again. “Alright,” I exhaled. “Let’s start.”He nodded.I began with the basics. “Tell me about your current form this season. How do you feel physically and mentally going i
The next person I had to interview was Collin Huderson.Collin Huderson was the exact opposite of Jeffrey.I noticed it the moment he walked in.Where Jeffrey felt sharp and closed off, Collin came in like the room already belonged to him. Loose steps, easy grin, hair slightly messy in a way that l
A few more players drifted in, louder now, the rink starting to echo with skate bags hitting benches and locker doors opening.One of them noticed me and slowed slightly.“You’re the journalist, right?” he asked.“Yes.”He grinned a little. “Coach said we’re not allowed to run from you.”I gave him
Katherine Rossi, Mason’s mother, had stopped at the door. Long enough to hear everything.Not all of it in clear sentences, more like fragments that landed one after another.But then it became distinct enough that she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t understood.Adrian’s voice, rough and frustrated.Isa







