I’m caught off guard by the simplicity, the willingness.
“Every year, there’s turnover before students matriculate,” she continues, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her cashmere sweater that definitely doesn’t wrinkle. “Students withdraw, change their minds. These things happen. And so, as students withdraw, spots open up. They always do.” She pauses, stirs, then looks at me square. “I can ensure Claire Montgomery will be part of this upcoming Parsons class.”
The relief is instant. “That’s incredible… Mrs. Newman, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say ‘thank you,’” she suggests with the practicality of someone who’s solved harder problems before breakfast.
“A thousand thank yous. Claire will make the most of this opportunity. I promise.”
Then Bunny turns back toward those bay windows.
“So,” she says, and that single syllable contains more subtext than a Russian novel. “You understand the importance of doing what you must to support your loved ones, Liam.”
A wave of queasiness threatens to turn to nausea. “I sure do,” I say, already knowing this is about to cost more than gratitude.
She nods, then she turns back, smile intact but weaponized now. “That’s good. Because I, in turn, could use your help.”
The room suddenly feels smaller, the walls taller. I’ve seen this before—the moment when someone reveals they’ve been playing chess while you’ve been playing checkers.
“Of course, Mrs. Newman,” I say. “You name it.”
“Harold has been stressed lately. Balancing his businesses, investments, the Sentinels. You know how it is.”
I nod slowly, though I definitely don’t know how it is to balance multiple business empires.
“I know there’s talk of a players’ holdout,” she continues, reaching for her teacup without drinking, the gesture purely theatrical. “The players standing firm against the league and its ownership groups. That kind of uncertainty…. It’s bad for business.”
The floor doesn’t actually tilt, but my world sure feels like it’s teetering.
“I’m the players’ rep for the team and league,” I say, stating the obvious because sometimes you need to hear yourself say things to believe them.
“Yes, you are,” she says. She’s already three moves ahead. She has been from the start.
“You’re asking me to—”
“I trust you’ll make the right decision.”
She doesn’t need to spell it out. The transaction is crystal clear, just like the candlestick holders positioned on the fireplace mantle: She gets Claire into Parsons if I betray every teammate whoIconvinced to stand together. Simple and clean. Also, devastating.
I sit there, staring at Bunny Newman in her inherited palace, and realize I’ve walked into a trap that was set before I even knew there was a game being played. She holds Claire’s future in her hands, and all I have to do is sell out my teammates, my principles, and whatever’s left of my integrity.
My tea has gone cold.
Bunny waits. She’s never had to rush for anything. She knows what I’m going to choose. We both do. Because that’s how these things work in rooms like this—everyone gets what they want, and everyone pays more than they can afford.
“I’ll need some time to think,” I finally say. There’s nothing to think about. Just the price of admission to a world where favors come with brutal consequences.
“Of course, dear,” she says. “Take all the time you need.”
But we both know time is exactly what I don’t have. The lockout vote is coming. Claire’s lie’s expiration date is looming. And I’m sitting in an Upper East Side mansion, learning that wealth doesn’t shout, it whispers, and what it’s whispering is: “Everyone has a price. What’s yours?”
The worst part? I think I already know the answer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
My first shift is an absolute disaster. I lose a race to a loose puck against a defenseman who moves like he’s underwater with bricks on his feet. When I finally do gain possession of the puck, I spot Dewey, but my pass—a routine play—sails way past him and ends up an icing. When I get possession again, I’m too weak on my stick, getting knocked around by forecheckers who shouldn’t be able to touch me.
I skate back to the bench, frustration flooding through me.
