**MILA'S POV**
The post-game energy is still humming through the arena when the sponsor arrives.
I'm stationed near the tunnel, doing my best impression of someone who has everything under control, while my ears are still ringing from twenty thousand people losing their minds over a shutout. 37 saves. A masterclass. The kind of game that makes highlight reels and silences critics, at least temporarily.
Rick texted ten minutes ago: *Sterling is coming down. Be nice.*
Sterling. The billionaire whose insurance company lives across the chest of every Bay Blades jersey. The man who, if he decided he didn't like you, could make that feeling known in ways that would take years to undo.
He's brought his son.
"Fantastic game," Sterling says, working through the handshakes with the ease of som
