The Striker's Forbidden Love

Chapter Eighteen--The List

Mia read every single reply on that thread before she made herself stop, each one worse than the last strangers dissecting a photo of her life like it was public property, building theories out of nothing, some defending her, more speculating in ways that made her stomach turn.

One reply in particular stuck with her longer than the rest, someone claiming to have "insider info" about the training ground, hinting they knew more than they were willing to post publicly. It read less like genuine gossip and more like someone enjoying the attention of pretending to know something, but it was impossible to be entirely sure, and that uncertainty alone was enough to keep her scrolling long after she should have closed the app.

She called Daniel the second she made it home, hands still shaking.

"It's worse this time." She said, no greeting, straight into it. "Clearer photo. More people talking. I sent you the link."

There was a pause while he opened it, and Mia could hear his breathing change on the other end of the line.

"This is a serious problem." Daniel said, voice tight.

"You keep saying that like I don't already know." Mia said, exhaustion bleeding into sharpness she didn't quite mean.

"I'm sorry." Daniel said, and actually sounded like it. "I'm not trying to state the obvious at you. I'm trying to think, and thinking out loud is apparently how I do that."

Mia exhaled, some of the edge softening. "It's fine. I'm just tired of being scared, Daniel. Actually, I'm tired. Bone tired."

"I know." He said, quiet. "I found something today, actually. Before this thread even surfaced."

"What?"

"I've been going through staff access logs. Quietly, without raising flags." Daniel said. "Whoever's been feeding these photos has camera-quality shots from angles that suggest they know the training ground layout intimately. Not a fan with a zoom lens from the parking lot. Someone who knows exactly where to stand to catch the best angle without being seen."

Mia's stomach turned over slowly. "Staff?"

"Or someone with staff-level access. Assistant coaches, equipment managers, admin." Daniel said. "I've narrowed it to six people who had access to the ground during every single incident so far."

"Six people." Mia repeated, feeling faintly sick at the size of the number. "That's not exactly narrow."

"It's narrower than twenty-two players and an entire fan base with camera phones." Daniel said. "I'll take what progress I can get right now."

"How do you even cross-reference something like that without anyone noticing what you're actually doing?" Mia asked.

"Carefully. Slowly. Under a cover story that has nothing to do with any of this." Daniel said. "I told facilities I'm reviewing security footage for equipment theft. Nobody questions a coach worried about missing cones and stolen water bottles."

"That's almost impressively devious." Mia said, something like admiration slipping into her voice despite the circumstances.

"Desperation breeds creativity." Daniel said dryly.

"Is Sofia on that list?" Mia asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

There was a pause. "Sofia's not staff. She wouldn't have the access I'm talking about."

"She admitted something to me tonight." Mia said, and told him everything about the apartment, the confession about tipping off the board, the raw uncomfortable honesty that had passed between them.

Daniel was quiet for a long moment when she finished. "That's a different kind of problem than the photos. Painful, but different."

"I know." Mia said. "It doesn't feel less painful for being different."

"No." Daniel agreed. "It probably doesn't. Do you believe her? That she's not the one behind the photos?"

"I think so." Mia said slowly, turning it over as she spoke. "She seemed genuinely surprised when I mentioned the video. If she'd sent it, she wouldn't have needed to ask what I was talking about."

"That tracks with what I've found too. She's not on my list of six." Daniel said. "Doesn't mean she's innocent of everything, but I don't think she's behind the camera."

They sat in silence for a moment, the phone line carrying nothing but breathing, both of them exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with training and everything to do with two weeks of constant, grinding vigilance.

"I have a meeting with facilities tomorrow." Daniel said finally. "Under the excuse of reviewing security camera placement for equipment theft. I'm going to see if any of the existing cameras caught something useful without anyone realizing that's actually what I'm looking for."

"That's smart." Mia said. "Sneaky. I like it……"

"I contain multitudes, Torres." Daniel said, and there was the faintest echo of warmth in it, the first real lightness either of them had managed all night.

"You've said that before." Mia said.

"It's still true." Daniel said. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day of pretending everything's fine in front of twenty-two teammates and a coach who's apparently becoming an amateur detective."

Mia laughed despite everything, the sound surprising her with how genuine it felt after such a heavy conversation. "Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight, Torres."

She hung up and sat in the quiet of her apartment for a long while afterward, phone dark in her lap, turning over everything that had happened in the span of a single day Sofia's confession, the new photo, Daniel's careful investigation, the strange, fragile comfort of talking to him even through everything falling apart around them. Two weeks ago, her biggest worry had been whether she'd start the season opener. Now she was fielding confessions and cross-referencing suspect lists like her life had turned into a mystery novel nobody had asked her to star in.

Her phone buzzed once more before she finally let herself sleep. Not the burner account. Not Sofia. A name from the club directory she didn't immediately place, until the message underneath it made her blood run cold.

“This is Owen, the equipment coordinator. I think I might know who's behind the photos. Can we talk tomorrow before practice? It's not something I want to say over text.”

Mia sat up straight, sleep forgotten entirely, reading the message three times over. Owen…. She pictured him vaguely, a quiet man who kept to himself around the equipment shed, someone she'd exchanged maybe a dozen words with across two full seasons. Not someone she'd ever have suspected of anything, let alone someone with information important enough to withhold from a text message.

She thought about calling Daniel back immediately, then decided against it. Better to hear whatever Owen had to say first, in person, before dragging Daniel into another spiral of half-formed theories at midnight.

“Yes. Before practice. Where should I meet you?” She typed back, thumb hovering only a second before she hit send.

The reply came almost instantly, three words that settled into her stomach like a stone.

“Somewhere private. Please.”