The tour of the Titans' training facility was an agonizing exercise in endurance—for Liam.
For the past hour, I had walked through the state-of-the-art weight rooms, the hydrotherapy pools, and the massive indoor practice field, flanked by my executive team. I asked sharp, surgical questions about equipment degradation, athlete retention rates, and the agency’s overhead costs. Every question was a subtle, precise strike at Liam's pride.
He was sweating. His usually flawless composure was unraveling at the seams. He kept trying to catch my eye, trying to find a sliver of the girl who used to curl up on his couch in oversized hoodies. But I gave him nothing. I was a fortress of crimson tailored wool and icy professionalism.
The tour finally concluded on the observation deck overlooking th
