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Sheltered By The Ruthless Hockey King

Chapter 8

Word Count: 718 | Released on: Today at 20:34

nor

's side entrance, peering t

heir feet, shouting and pointing. Reporters swarmed

e. He grabbed the "bride's" veil and ripped it off, revealing the

k back, t

microphone. "What the hell is going on?" he roa

face ashen, utterly speechless. Sharon had shrunk

security guards had her by the arms,

shrieked, her voice a piercing screech. "You planned this, you lit

ie shot back, unafraid. "You hire

was terrifying. She raised her hand,

r eyes shut, brac

t wait an

th and strode into the room. "Stop!" I ye

ballroom

every camera lens,

es, trying to see through the baseball cap and mask, but there

she saw me, relief and wor

elf between her and Barbara Stephenson. I

phenson?" I asked, my voice dangerously quie

chy, furious red. She pointe

ice sharp but no longer certain. "W

turned to face m

drained from their faces, it was confusion and a growing that filled the

y I had about family

expression a mix of surprise, anger, and wary appraisal-irritated by the intrus

an they wanted

th. The real fight

all cap and a mask that cover

porters, not the Stephensons or the Guys

who are you? What's your

e a stand-in? Then yo

really sell their da

d-in your ide

me to stop

is PR

ave, a deafening roar of voices layered

urst of light bleaching the ballroom white for a

standing in the

d there, gathering my streng

grip my arm, a sil

r and gave her a sma

my hands to my face, r

Chapter End

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Sheltered By The Ruthless Hockey King

Fritz Heaney Modern

“I was running barefoot through a slick, rainy New York alley, chased by my foster parents' hired muscle and a swarm of bloodthirsty paparazzi. They had just sold me to a repulsive pig, Dusty Stephenson, in exchange for a lucrative family business deal. When I refused to be their puppet and escaped my own engagement gala, they didn't even bother to cancel the event. Instead, they found a cheap lookalike imposter to stand on stage in my place. Through the ballroom doors, I watched the fake "Eleanor Nash" smiling next to Dusty, accepting the applause of hundreds of oblivious guests. My foster parents were happily sealing their corrupt deal, stealing my identity to force the marriage through public opinion. When my best friend Arlie crashed the party to expose the fraud, Dusty's mother viciously ordered the security guards to grab her. How could the people who raised me be so completely ruthless? They treated my life like a disposable commodity, and when I wouldn't play along, they simply replaced me to keep their disgusting lie alive. I couldn't just hide in the shadows and let them destroy my name. I pushed open the heavy ballroom doors, walked straight through the stunned crowd in my ruined, damp dress, and stared them down. "I am the real Eleanor Nash. And in three days, I will expose this entire conspiracy."”