One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 27

Chloe

“Ready for this?” Wyatt asks as we walk through the glass doors of Luminous Communications, his fingers lacing tighter with mine, an anchor in the sea of corporate grandeur.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, my voice not quite as convincing as I’d hoped. Nerves jangle like loose change in my stomach.

“Remember, we’ve got backup.” He nods toward our attorney, his focus unwavering as he scans through files. Behind him, Mark and Zach follow, each a steady presence—Mark’s professional calm a contrast to Zach’s fierce loyalty. Both are here for us, a quiet assurance that we’re not alone in this.

I nod, and together we approach the elevator. The ride up feels like ascending to judgment, as each ding marks our ascent to the third floor, where many futures will be decided .

As the elevator doors slide open, a familiar figure comes into view. Lainey stands at the end of the hall, looking like a beacon of support with her sunny blond hair and an encouraging thumbs up. Her eyes meet mine, twin pools of reassurance.

“Thanks, Lainey,” I mouth back, replying to her silent gesture with a nod that I hope conveys my gratitude and a semblance of calm I’m far from feeling.

We make our way down the corridor, a path we’ve walked before but never with such weight on our shoulders. Today, every step feels definitive, every glance loaded with potential meanings. Wyatt and I are a team in whatever comes next, and with that thought, I square my shoulders and prepare to step into the conference room where our fate awaits.

The room brims with anticipation, a charged atmosphere that crackles with every rustling paper and hushed whisper. High-backed chairs encircle a polished mahogany table, and framed accolades line the walls, watching silently as if bearing witness to what will unfold.

Wyatt and I take our seats, his hand finding mine under the table—a grounding presence as the last attendees filter in. Mark and Zach position themselves on either side of us, both like silent sentinels, their expressions unreadable but resolute. Janelle takes her place at the far end, her gaze firmly set on the presentation screen. Across the table, the team owners settle into their seats, faces set in stone, while the hockey league representative, a man dressed in a sharp suit with sharper eyes, gives a curt nod for us to begin.

“Thank you all for coming,” Wyatt’s voice is steady, his blue eyes flinty with resolve as he glances toward our attorney. “We’ve called this meeting to set things straight.”

I clear my throat, feeling the weight of every eye on us. “We have evidence that will clear Wyatt’s name.” My fingers tighten around the USB drive in my pocket, the digital key to our vindication.

Our attorney stands, his movements smooth as he connects the drive to the projector. Images flicker to life on the screen: emails, texts, transaction records that Sonia willingly handed over to Wyatt, trusting he wouldn’t go public with her involvement—all paths leading back to Alec’s deception. She even agreed to post publicly that she fabricated the story about Wyatt’s supposed anger issues and verbal abuse .

As the first slide appears, a knot of apprehension tightens in my stomach. An email exchange between Alec and an unknown contact dominates the screen.

“The subject line of this email reads ‘Operation Ice Plant’,” our attorney begins. “Mr. Harding frequently used this subject line in his correspondence with several individuals.” He pauses, allowing the room to take in the significance. “In these records, Mr. Harding outlines his efforts to manipulate Mr. Banks’s public image, using information provided by a source close to Mr. Banks.”

Another slide follows, displaying messages Alec sent directly to a contact, planning each step of his scheme.

“These records reveal communication between Mr. Harding and a local dealer,” our attorney continues. “The same source, aware of Mr. Harding’s conduct, was able to provide details linking Mr. Harding’s frequent purchases of opioids to this dealer.” He clicks to the next slide, which shows transaction records connecting Alec directly to the dealer. Each piece is a testament to Alec’s willingness to frame Wyatt, his actions motivated by both anger and self-interest.

Click .

A photo appears, capturing Alec in a clandestine meeting with the dealer. The image is grainy, but Alec’s face is unmistakable, caught in the act of conspiring to ruin Wyatt’s career.

The attorney continues, “According to our collected information, a witness confirmed that Mr. Harding entered Mr. Banks’s locker room while Mr. Banks was in the shower. With the assistance of a staff member, Mr. Harding used this opportunity to plant evidence in Mr. Banks’s locker.” He clicks to the next slide, showing a summary of the witness’s signed affidavit, detailing this account without naming names.

As the presentation continues, a wave of vindication builds within me. Alec’s deceit is being exposed for all to see. With each slide, I feel we’re one step closer to clearing Wyatt’s name and holding Alec accountable for his actions.

“Furthermore,” a team manager interjects, his voice steady, “the results of Mr. Banks’s most recent drug tests have returned. Both his hair and blood samples show no trace of drugs.” He lays the official report on the table with a quiet but firm gesture .

A heavy silence fills the room, eventually broken by the gruff voice of one of the team owners.

“Mr. Banks, we deeply regret that you had to endure this. This must have been both frustrating and disappointing.” He nods at the team representatives around him. “Given the evidence shown here, you are fully reinstated, effective immediately.”

Mark steps forward, his voice calm but resolute. “We appreciate this decision and the commitment to restoring Mr. Banks’s reputation. Wyatt deserves full public support, considering the damage these false allegations have caused.”

The league representative nods in agreement. “We will issue a public statement in support of Mr. Banks and launch an investigation into Mr. Harding’s conduct. During the course of the investigation, Mr. Harding will be barred from play.”

“We’ll also be filing a police report and pressing charges,” a team owner adds, his tone resolute.

A collective exhale fills the space, a wave of relief sweeping over us all. Wyatt’s gaze meets mine, and we share a silent smile that says it all—a victory over adversity, a triumph over betrayal.

In this moment, I know we’ve won more than just this battle. Together, we’ve reclaimed our future, our honor, and the narrative of our lives—stronger, unbroken, and ready for whatever lies ahead.

As people begin to stand and file out, murmurs of relief and quiet congratulations echo softly around the room. I’m returning my tablet to my bag when a pair of polished shoes steps into view. I glance up to see Janelle, her expression a blend of sternness and satisfaction.

“Chloe,” she begins, her voice a mix of command and approval. “You’ve got quite the head on your shoulders.” Her eyes rake over me, as if seeing me for the first time. “I’m impressed with how you handled this, even though you were suspended.”

My fingers freeze mid-fold, and I straighten, blinking at her. “You are?” It comes out more as a squeak than a question.

“Absolutely.” She crosses her arms, but her stance lacks its usual rigidity. “Despite the suspension, I’ve decided that your employment record will remain spotless and… nothing in your contract states that you can’t have a relationship with Mr. Banks.”

“Does that mean…?”

“We’ll see you on Monday. And yes,” a corner of her mouth lifts, almost imperceptibly, “you’re still in the running for vice president.”

“Really?” The word escapes me like air from a balloon. I’d braced myself for the fall, not the catch. “Janelle, thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Prove it,” she says, the wink she tosses me entirely out of character. Then she’s off, her heels clicking with a confident retreat down the hall.

As the door clicks shut behind her, I let out all the air I’d been holding anxiously while waiting to hear what she had to say, my lips curving into a smile that feels like sunrise. I tuck my bag under my arm, suddenly light. Promotion or not, I have Wyatt’s steady presence waiting for me, Jasper’s toothy grin to come home to. With them, I’m already standing on the winner’s podium.

“That sounds promising,” Wyatt says now that it’s only the two of us.

I nod. “Promising, but not the most important thing. ”

He raises his brows. “Are you telling me you don’t care if you get that promotion after all? I thought it was the whole reason you took me on.”

I laugh, wrapping my arms around his waist. “It was, but… something more important came up.”

Wyatt lifts my chin, and his lips are on me in a matter of seconds. I melt into him as I breathe in the musk of his heavenly scent, the one I’ve grown to call home.

When he finally pulls away, he flashes me his classic Wyatt Banks smirk. “Let’s get out of here.”

Outside the conference room, a few folks linger in conversation. Spotting Mark and Zach among them, Wyatt leads us over, and Mark greets us with a firm handshake. “Thanks for pulling all of this together, Miss Reed. Couldn’t have gone better.”

I nod, feeling a swell of pride. “Glad it all worked out.”

Mark glances at his watch. “I’ve got to head out, but I’ll catch up with you both soon.”

Zach turns to Wyatt with a grin. “Glad to see it was a success, man. You deserve it. ”

Wyatt claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Zach. This whole thing would’ve been a lot harder without you.”

Just then, Lainey approaches, a warm smile on her face. She sidles up, giving me a quick hug. “Everything work out?”

“Everything’s perfect,” I say, beaming.

She grins, and the joy in her eyes mirrors my own. “Thank God. Ever since you texted me last night about the meeting, I’ve been on edge. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“According to Janelle, I’m not going anywhere. And I might even become vice president after all.”

Lainey’s face lights up. “Vice president? Now that is the news I’ve been waiting for.”

I laugh. “Lainey, I haven’t introduced you to Zach yet. Meet Zachary Darling. Zach, this is Lainey Carrey—my best friend.”

Zach steps forward with a charming grin, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Lainey. I can see why Chloe keeps you close.”

Lainey gives his hand a quick, playful shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Darling.”

“Please, call me Zach,” he replies smoothly, holding her gaze with a roguish smile.

Lainey laughs softly, her cheeks tinged with a touch of color. “Zach it is, then. ”

“Zach’s my best friend,” Wyatt adds, his voice carrying a hint of pride.

Zach throws him a wink. “Best friend and occasional disaster control,” he quips, flashing a sideways grin at Lainey.

“Whatever, Zach,” Wyatt says with a smirk, rolling his eyes.

Lainey and I both laugh, the sound easing the last bit of tension from the day.

With a final, encouraging squeeze of my arm, Lainey steps back. “Alright, I’ll let you two get out of here. Text me later?”

“Absolutely,” I say, returning her squeeze.

Zach gives Wyatt a nod. “I’ll head out too. Catch you both soon. And Lainey, looks like I’ll be seeing you around more often.”

“I guess so. See you around, Zach.”

With a quick wave, Zach and Lainey head off in opposite directions, leaving Wyatt and me alone in the now-quiet hallway. We make our way to the exit and step through the revolving doors, emerging into the cool, fresh air. As the building’s shadow falls away, we’re met by a golden wash of sunlight, and the world feels suddenly brighter, lighter.

“We did good,” Wyatt says, his voice a low rumble of pride .

My heart swells. “We sure did. I’d even go as far as to say we make a great team.”

“Understatement.” He pulls me into his arms, his embrace warm and grounding.

Our lips meet in a kiss that speaks volumes, a silent seal on our victory, a vow between us.

“What do you say we grab some lunch, then go pick up our son?” Wyatt suggests, his blue eyes alight with plans for normalcy—a life reclaimed.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.” The words come out wrapped in relief and a hint of excitement.

Together, we slide into the comfort of Wyatt’s SUV, the familiar leather seats welcoming us like old friends. He turns the key, and the engine hums to life, ready to carry us toward the simple joy of a shared meal and the infectious laughter of our child.