"Tell me. Please.”
The words stick in my throat. I've said them to Dr. Mills, to Jackson, to the police, but saying them to Emma, to my best friend whom I've been lying to for months, feels impossible.
"I was raped," I force out. "By my supervisor, Dr. Richard Carson. I reported it, and the hospital fired me two weeks later."
Emma sinks onto the couch, her hand still on her belly as if she needs to protect the baby from this news. "Oh my god."
"And Jackson..." Chase is staring at his phone, his face grim. "Jackson went after him yesterday. Beat him badly enough to put him in the hospital."
"He what?" Emma looks at Jackson like she's seeing him for the first time. "That’s why you got arrested?"
"He raped her." Jackson's voice is flat, emotionless. "He raped Maya, and the hospital protected him. So yes, I made sure he understood there are consequences."
"Jesus Christ." Emma presses her hands to her face. "This is... the media... everyone's going to..."
Her phone starts ringing. Then Chase's, then mine. Unknown numbers, reporters already hunting for statements.
By 8 a.m., there are vans outside the house. News crews are setting up on the street, cameras pointed at our windows. Reporters knocking on the door.
Chase closes all the curtains, moving from window towindow like he's securing us for a siege. "Nobody goes outside, nobody talks to anyone."
"The team called," Jackson says, checking his phone. "They want me at the arena by noon. Emergency meeting."
"They're going to strip you of the captaincy," Chase says quietly.
"I know."
Emma's crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. "Maya, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you... I'm your best friend. I should've known."
"I couldn't tell you, I could barely admit it to myself."
"But you told Jackson."
The way she says it makes my stomach clench. "He found out. By accident. I wasn't planning on telling anyone."
She looks between us, something shifting in her expression. "How did he find out by accident?"
"He found my journal and confronted me about it."
"When?"
"Not long after I got here."
"And he's been helping you. Taking you to therapy, supporting you through all of this?”
"Yes."
Emma's quiet for a long moment, her eyes moving between Jackson and me like she's seeing something she missed before. "That's why you two have been so close lately, why you're always together."
My heart stops. "Em?—"
"No, it makes sense. You needed support, and Jackson was there. I'm glad you had someone."
The rest of the morning dissolves into chaos. The team's PR department calls, Jackson's lawyer calls, my phone won't stop ringing with unknown numbers, and the reporters outside are shouting questions whenever someone moves past a window.
At noon, Jackson has to leave for the arena. Emma andChase won't let me answer the door or go outside. The reporters are relentless, camping out on our lawn like vultures.
I watch from behind the curtains as Jackson walks to his truck. Cameras flash like lightning, microphones shoved in his face, reporters shouting his name. He doesn't say anything, just gets in and drives away, and I feel like I'm watching him drive toward the end of everything.
