Chapter 1
Lia stared at the plaque on the wall—Carol Evans, Head Coach—hands curled into fists to stop them from shaking. She’d been a frequent visitor to Carol’s office in her seven-year tenure as the superstar striker for Manchester Wanderers. Yet she’d never felt such a churning in her gut, such a disquiet in her mind, such a seething anger making the edges of her vision black.
Stepping back into her club off the back of a record-breaking season after a few weeks off, Lia should be on cloud nine, ready to begin the new season. Following three years of coming in second place, Wanderers had unseated their closest rivals—Salford Albion—at the summit of the Women’s Super League. They’d also beaten them to the FA Cup trophy. Not to mention Lia’s prolific success in front of goal had meant she’d ended the season with the most goals, taking home the Golden Boot trophy for the first time in her career.
Instead, she was filled with loathing.
Taking a deep breath, Lia wrenched open the door and stormed inside before she could think better of it.
Behind the desk, Carol started. “Hey! You can’t barge in here without—” The words died on her tongue once she got a look at Lia’s face. “Ashcroft. W-what are you doing here?” Her voice trembled with fear.
Good.
For the past seven years, Lia had thought herself lucky to work with a coach as fantastic as Carol. She’d elevated Lia’s game, brought the best out of her, and turned Wanderers into a team competing at the top level.
Lia used to feel nothing but admiration for Carol. And a desire to be the best she could possibly be to give back to the coach that had given Lia her chance on the biggest stage of women’s football, promoting Lia to the first team at eighteen years old.
Now, as her gaze rested on Carol’s face, Lia felt nothing but disgust and disappointment.
“I needed to see you.” Lia paused on the other side of the desk, letting her fingers brush against the edge of the stained wood—black, like Lia’s mood. And like Wanderers’ new training kit. She’d been asked to pull it on for a photo shoot, but the badge on her breast—red roses—once something she’d worn with pride, now felt heavy. Leaden. Ruined.
“I want to leave.”
“Leave?” Carol’s brows creased into a frown. How dare she pretend Lia’s words came as some kind of shock? “What do you mean? You need a break? A holiday? Some time away from the team?”
Lia shook her head, nails tapping a staccato rhythm on the desk. “I want a transfer. I want out of this place.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped Carol’s lips as her frown smoothed. “Are you joking? You signed a two-year contract extension a few months ago!”
“Yes, I’m aware.” As was Lia’s agent, whom she’d already had this argument with a dozen times in the past few days. Still, Lia’s resolve hadn’t wavered. She didn’t just want out—she needed out. For her own sanity. “But I signed that contract under false pretences.”
Carol swallowed, loud in the quiet office. The only other sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall behind Carol’s head. Ticking down Lia’s time as a Wanderers player.
“You know, the false pretences that you weren’t screwing my fiancée?” Exactly as she’d intended, Lia’s words landed like a blow.
Carol flinched like she’d been struck, wide eyes looking toward the door Lia had purposefully left open. “Lower your voice!”
“Should’ve thought about that before, shouldn’t you? Did you really think you’d get away with breaking the rules about sleeping with one of your players and get off scot-free?” Whenever she blinked, she saw Carol and Hannah embracing. Her stomach roiled, threatening to expel the eggs she’d forced down for breakfast.
“I’ll call it off.”
“No. It’s too late for that. I want out of my contract, to a nearby club. Salford Albion, preferably.” Their stadium was so close that it was visible from the Wanderers training ground. Perfect for Lia—she didn’t want to move to a new city. “They should be in the market for a new striker after what happened in the FA Cup final.” Lia didn’t like seeing her fellow professionals get injured—especially not a player she’d admired for years—but Erin Finch’s torn ACL might work to her advantage.
“I… I can’t.” Carol’s face was ashen. “I might be able to get you out of your contract, but I can’t sell you to a direct rival. The board will never go for that. You’re one of our best players! They’ll have my head.”
Lia was unmoved. She didn’t care what happened to Carol. All she wanted was to get the hell out of here. “Then I’ll tell them what I know, and you’ll be gone anyway.”
She’d debated that option extensively, but having to stay at Wanderers, having to see Hannah every day after what she’d done, even if Carol was replaced with a new coach? Lia wouldn’t be able to stand it.
All of her memories felt tainted. She’d been at Wanderers since she was sixteen and had never thought she’d want to leave. But now she couldn’t imagine spending another day here.
She was going to tell the board regardless, but this way, she’d get what she wanted—what she needed—first.
A nasty look crossed Carol’s face, and she turned her attention back to her laptop in clear dismissal. “It’ll be your word against mine.”
Lia had expected that. Carol hadn’t earned her ruthless reputation by rolling over easily. “Not if I show them the pictures.”
That got Carol’s attention back on her. “What pictures?”
