Page 109 of Her Player

The retired franchise owner in the center looked up from his copy of our submission. He had the weathered, unhurried look of a man who had sat in a lot of rooms like this one and stopped being impressed by any of them a long time ago. “Miss Caldwell. How long have you been aware of Mr. Calloway’s personal interest in you?”

I looked at him steadily. “Approximately three years.”

“And in that time, how many roster decisions involving Mr. Calloway did you make personally?”

“None.” I folded my hands on the table. “Mr. Calloway’s initial signing was handled by my general manager David Chu with independent legal counsel on both sides. His contract renewal eighteen months ago went through the same process. I recused myself from both. The documentation is in exhibit A, pages four through eleven.”

The legal counsel on the right was already there, flipping through her copy.

“His captaincy designation,” the deputy said.

“Coach Mercer’s recommendation, seconded by a team vote. I was not in the room.” I paused. “Exhibit B, page three.”

“Ice time allocation.”

“Coach Mercer’s jurisdiction entirely. I don’t manage game day decisions. I manage the franchise.” I let that sit for a second. “Exhibit A, pages nineteen through twenty-two cover the full scope of my operational role versus coaching staff authority. You’ll find they don’t overlap.”

The legal counsel set her copy down and looked at me for the first time with something other than the trained blankness she’d walked in with. I didn’t let myself react to it.

The deputy shuffled his papers. “Miss Caldwell, the committee would like to understand the timeline of when the personal relationship became—” he paused, choosing his word, “—active.”

“The relationship became active during the PHL season,” I said. “After the team’s undefeated record was already established. After every contract and roster decision relevant to Mr. Calloway had already been made and documented. The sequence of events is outlined in exhibit C.” I looked at him. “I’d also note that during the period in question the Las Vegas Vipers ran the best regular season record in the PHL and clinched a championship berth they hadn’t seen in seventeen years. If the committee believes that outcome reflects compromised competitive integrity I’m genuinely curious about the argument.”

Silence.

The retired franchise owner made a sound that might have been a laugh if he’d let it get that far.

The deputy looked at his colleagues. A look passed between the three of them that I’d seen in boardrooms and negotiating tables and hospital waiting rooms and every other room where people thought they were being subtle. It meant they’d already made their decision and were now performing the last few minutes of a process that was essentially over.

I waited.

“Miss Caldwell,” the deputy said finally. “The committee appreciates your cooperation and the thoroughness of your submission. We’ll have a formal determination within seventy-two hours but I think I can say without prejudicing that process that—” he paused again, “—the record you’ve presented is exceptionally clean.”

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

I stood up.

Seth stood up beside me.

I picked up my bag and buttoned my blazer and looked at the three of them one last time. “I’ve been running this franchise for fourteen years. I built it from nothing after my husband was killed. I have never once made a decision that put anything ahead of the integrity of this team.” I kept my voice even. Not angry. Just plain. “I didn’t start now.”

Nobody said anything.

I walked out.

Seth caught up with me at the elevator. We rode down to the lobby in silence. The doors opened onto the marble floor and the unsigned building and the Las Vegas morning waiting outside the glass.

“Well,” Seth said.

“Call me when the determination comes through,” I said.

“Victoria.” He stopped walking. “You were incredible in there.”

I pushed open the glass door. “I was prepared, Seth. There’s a distinction.”

Outside the morning was warm and bright and the city was doing what it always did, moving forward without waiting for anyone’s permission.

I put on my sunglasses and went to get coffee from the good place two blocks from the arena.