To Briella, the math was obvious.

“You knew she played?”

Tanner asked.

“No.”

“Henrik did.”

“Henrik knows everything after everyone else.”

Tanner replayed the shot.

Monique’s technique bothered him.

Not because it was good.

Because it looked effortless.

The comments bothered him more.

WHO IS SHE?

FORMER NATIONAL CAPTAIN MONIQUE TATE

WHY IS SHE CLEANING ICE?

THIS WOMAN SCORED FIVE IN A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP GAME

WOLVES PLAYER MOCKED HER YESTERDAY LOL

Someone had also posted the clip of Tanner throwing the drink.

Views climbed by the minute.

Briella put down her phone.

“Fire her.”

Tanner looked at her.

“What?”

“Before Monday.”

“For what?”

“Budget.”

“She’s the ice driver.”

“Outsource it.”

Tanner laughed.

“You’re scared of a janitor?”

“She’s making us look terrible.”

“You poured the drink too.”

“It was your cup.”

“That is not how the internet sees it.”

Briella picked up the phone again.

“Cancel the Sunday program. Cut the ice crew. Outsource resurfacing.”

Her father, arena owner Richard Voss, entered the suite.

“What are you canceling?”

Briella smiled.

“Nothing important.”

Richard had built Harbor City Arena thirty years earlier.

He was seventy-one now and had gradually allowed Briella to manage more of the business.

He loved her.

That did not mean he trusted her judgment.

“What about Sunday youth hockey?”

“It loses money.”

“How much?”

She avoided the question.

Richard looked toward Tanner.

The hockey star suddenly became fascinated with his coffee.

Briella continued.

“We can make six times more from private events.”

Richard nodded slowly.

“And Monique Tate?”

“What about her?”

“She’s worked here six years.”

“Exactly.”

Briella smiled.

“Time for a change.”

Richard said nothing.

But that afternoon, when Monique arrived for work, she discovered her security badge no longer opened the staff entrance.

Her supervisor met her outside.

He looked ashamed.

“They let you go?”

Malik asked later.

Monique removed her arena jacket and folded it carefully.

“They let the ice driver go.”

She looked at him.

“Not me.”

The sentence sounded confident.

Inside, she was terrified.

Rent was due.

Malik needed school fees.

Their mother’s medical debt was almost paid off, but not quite.

Being a former champion did not pay a grocery bill.

Six years earlier, nobody had offered her a job simply because she once wore a national jersey.

The sports world moved quickly.

New stars arrived.

Old ones disappeared.

Then Henrik called.

“Come to the arena tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Skills night.”

“No.”

“Tanner challenged you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“He says your pond shot was luck.”

“Good for him.”

Henrik paused.

“They made an offer.”

Monique almost hung up.

Then he said:

“If you win, Sunday ice belongs to the families.”

She stopped.

“For how long?”