The three-person review board enters. Two former NHL executives and one league attorney. The chairman, a gray-haired man named Ambrose Pemberton, settles behind the center podium and clears his throat.
"We're here to review allegations of misconduct by Mr. Declan Hawthorne and related claims against his former agent, Gregory Stallworth." His voice is dry, bored, like he's done this a thousand times. "Mr. Stallworth, your counsel may present opening arguments."
Gregory's lawyer stands. He’s sharp-faced man named Douglas Barnes. He adjusts his tie and launches into his attack.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the board, what we have here is a classic case of buyer's remorse." Barnes gestures toward me like I'm a petulant child. "Mr. Hawthorne is a talented hockey player, yes, but he's also reckless, impulsive, and notoriously undisciplined. His reputation as a playboy is well-documented."
Riley makes a small noise of protest behind me. Rowan's hand lands on her arm, stopping her.
"When Mr. Hawthorne decided he wanted to escape his contractual obligations to Mr. Stallworth—obligations that made him a wealthy man, I might add—he fabricated elaborate storiesof financial impropriety when he was in fact the fraudulent party. He manufactured a scandal involving an innocent woman to garner sympathy. He turned on the man who discovered him, guided his career, and treated him like a son."
My hands clench into fists under the table. Patricia places one cool palm over them, a silent warning.
Barnes continues for another ten minutes, painting me as ungrateful man motivated by greed. By the time he sits down, I want to put my fist through his face.
"Ms. Ammon?" Pemberton prompts.
Patricia stands slowly, deliberately. She doesn't rush to the podium or shuffle papers. She walks with measured steps that command attention.
"Mr. Barnes spins an interesting story," she begins, her voice crisp. "But stories don't hold up under scrutiny. Evidence does."
She nods to her assistant, who pulls up the first presentation slide on the large screen.
"What you're looking at is a forensic accounting analysis conducted by three independent firms." Patricia's laser pointer highlights key figures. "Over the course of nine years, Gregory Stallworth systematically embezzled $8.2 million from Mr. Hawthorne's earnings through fraudulent contracts, manipulated clauses, and phantom 'management fees' that never appeared in disclosed agreements."
The numbers glow on the screen: contract discrepancies, unauthorized withdrawals, shell companies. My stomach churns looking at them, even though I've seen these documents a dozen times.
"Furthermore," Patricia continues, advancing the slides, "Mr. Stallworth engaged in psychological manipulation and coercion to maintain control over his client. When Mr. Hawthorne attempted to pursue a personal relationship, a relationship that threatened Mr. Stallworth's absolute authority, thedefendant launched a calculated campaign to destroy both Mr. Hawthorne's reputation and that of Dr. Ivy Chandler."
On hearing Ivy’s name, my chest tighten.
"We have emails, text messages, and testimony from multiple witnesses demonstrating a pattern of abuse that extends far beyond Mr. Hawthorne. This is not 'buyer's remorse.' This is justice."
She sits down.
The chairman shuffles papers. "Mr. Stallworth, you may call your first witness."
Gregory's defense is predictable: character witnesses who testify to his ‘stellar reputation,’ financial experts who try to explain away the discrepancies and pin them on me, carefully coached statements that paint him as a victim of a smear campaign.
It's all smoke.
Then Patricia begins presenting our case, and the room shifts.
The first witness is David Mercer, a retired NHL defense man. He's in his forties now, gray threading through his black hair, but his testimony is devastating.
"Gregory managed me for six years," he says. "I trusted him completely. That was my mistake. When I retired and finally hired an independent accountant, I discovered he'd stolen nearly two million dollars from my earnings. By then, he'd hidden the money so well I couldn't recover most of it."
Barnes starts to interrupt, but Pemberton raises a hand.
"Mr. Barnes, Mr. Mercer's testimony is directly relevant to establishing a pattern of behavior. Please let him finish."
Barnes sits back down, jaw tight.
The second witness is Carter Mills, a current minor league player. His hands shake as he takes the stand.
"Gregory promised he'd get me to the NHL if I did exactly what he told me," he says quietly. "He controlled where I lived,who I dated, what I posted on social media. When I tried to leave, he threatened to blacklist me with every team in the league."
Riley is crying silently behind me. Rowan's expression is murderous.
