Page 18

18

Piper

I’m halfway through downing my second iced latte of the morning when I spot Sadie lounging on the veranda of the Ice family’s lavish ranch house, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as bright as the sun overhead.

My heart stutters. This place is usually a comforting sight—warmly lit porch, wide wooden steps, rolling hills of lush greenery for miles. Today, it feels more like I’m entering enemy territory unarmed. I clutch my phone, determined not to show a hint of the trembling in my fingers.

I brace myself, mentally replaying the confrontation I’ve practiced at least a dozen times since last night. I approach with a casual toss of my hair, pretending I’m as cool and composed as the crisp air swirling around us.

Sadie looks up from her phone, arches an eyebrow, and gives me a slow, condescending once-over.

She’s in full ice princess mode—black sunglasses shoved into her spiked hair, glossed lips, a cropped designer sweater hugging tight jeans, and boots that probably cost more than my rent. Anyone watching—me with my sleep-deprived eyes and hair I barely remembered to brush—would instantly peg the villain in this story. And it wouldn’t be the girl in the lipstick and Louboutins.

“Punctual, aren’t we?” she drawls.

“Unlike you, I don’t believe in wasting time,” I reply, forcing a breezy tone.

She sips from a tall glass of lemonade before setting it aside. “Well, you clearly believe in illusions,” she says sweetly, “so let’s discuss how you’re going to uphold your end of the dare.”

I stiffen, leaning in so that no one else can overhear. On the ranch, people come and go constantly—friends, family, staff, visitors. I do not want an audience for this conversation. “Sadie, whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”

She fixes me with a sneer. “Oh, am I? You’re saying you’re not a certain gossip columnist called Penelope Darling? The one who relishes dragging Jake, my other cousins, and every other hockey player through the mud?”

I scoff, hoping I sound convincing. My pulse is definitely not cooperating, hammering so loudly I’m surprised her smug face isn’t rattling from the vibration. “I know you love playing queen of the rumor mill, but even this is beneath you.”

Sadie crosses her arms, the gold bangles at her wrist tinkling ominously. “Really, Piper? Would you like to see your own emails?”

Her words slam into me like a punch. She has my emails? That’s not possible… unless… My mind scrambles for every time I might have slipped up: emailing sponsors, replying to tips for the Penelope column, cross-posting links. My mouth goes dry as desert sand.

I hold my ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She opens her phone and, with a flourish, angles the screen toward me. My stomach lurches at the sight of an email thread labeled: Penelope Darling—Top Secret. The visible snippet of text is unmistakably from my personal email address.

My stomach doesn't just lurch—it plummets like an elevator with cut cables. The caffeine in my system turns toxic, sending pins and needles through my fingertips. I can actually feel the blood draining from my face, leaving me light-headed and nauseous.

"You— How—" I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. My carefully constructed worlds are colliding in slow motion, and all I can do is watch the wreckage.

Sadie's lips twist into a triumphant grin. “Remember that media studies class last semester? The one everyone thought I was never paying attention in?”

I blink, thrown off by the seemingly random question. “What does that have to do with—”

“You sat three rows ahead of me,” she continues, examining her manicure. “Always hunched over your laptop like you were guarding state secrets.”

“I take notes,” I say flatly.

She laughs, a cold sound that makes my skin crawl. “Notes. Right. Is that what you call drafting your little Penelope hit pieces during Professor Weaver’s lectures?”

My blood runs cold. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Save it.” She holds up a hand. “One day, you got up to use the bathroom. Left your laptop open. I just happened to walk by...” She shrugs, all false innocence. “And what do I see? Split screen—blog draft on one side, your personal email on the other. With a very interesting header: Penelope Darling content calendar. ”

My mouth goes dry. I remember that day—rushing to finish a post before deadline, running to the bathroom between classes. I thought I’d locked my screen. I always lock my screen.

Except that one time, I guess. Shit.

“After that,” Sadie continues, “it was just a matter of connecting some very obvious dots. Your writing style is... distinctive. And you’re not exactly subtle with your hockey opinions.”

She scrolls with relish, showing me partial draft articles, sponsor communication emails, even a note labeled Potential Dirt on Jake Ice.

“Amazing what you can find with the right motivation.”

“You had no right,” I hiss, my voice shaking with fury.

“Spare me your righteous indignation,” Sadie counters. “Don’t pretend your hands are clean. Penelope Darling might be an anonymous persona, but you’ve profited from humiliating half the sports world—Jake and his brothers and friends included.”

I clench my fists, trying to control my panic. “What do you want, Sadie?”

She leans back in her chair, something flickering behind her eyes. “I want to see you follow through on that dare. Make Jake fall for you—completely, utterly.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “And if you fail, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who’s been hiding behind the Penelope Darling byline.”

I square my shoulders. “That’s dramatic, even for you. What’s your real angle here?”

She laughs, high and sharp. “Who do you think the Ice family will believe when they find out the blogger who’s made them a laughingstock is hanging around with them, pretending to be their friend?”

My stomach clenches. She’s not wrong. A big part of me is actually terrified of how Emma will react; I hate the idea of hurting her. Emma has been nothing but kind and supportive to me.

It started as a side hustle—just venting frustrations about egos and bad coaching calls. I didn’t think anyone would care.

What started as a stupid, whiskey-fueled dare at a bonfire now feels like a ticking bomb. I was drunk, annoyed by Sadie’s goading, and didn’t think through the consequences. Emma might not see it as the harmless game I foolishly thought it could be—and honestly, it isn’t one anymore.

The worst part? I'm not even sure which outcome terrifies me more—failing the dare and being exposed, or succeeding and breaking Jake's heart. Because somewhere between our first date and now, he stopped being just a target. His smile makes my chest tight in ways I never expected. His laugh makes me forget why I'm supposed to be keeping my distance. And the thought of seeing betrayal in those blue eyes when he discovers who I really am? That might be the most unbearable consequence of all.

I force myself to stand taller, knowing that showing weakness to someone like Sadie would be like bleeding in shark-infested waters. “So you want me to carry out this dare… just because you’re bored?” I challenge, keeping my voice steady. “What’s your real motive here, Sadie? This is a lot of effort just to amuse yourself.”

Sadie’s smug grin twists into something more venomous. She glances around, then leans closer.

“You swan in with your quick wit and half-baked blog, and suddenly everyone’s falling all over themselves to welcome you. Emma adores you. Jake can’t take his eyes off you…” Her voice takes on a razor edge. "Do you have any idea what that's like? To watch someone like you instantly become the center of attention while I'm—"

She cuts herself off, but not before I catch it—that flash of raw hurt in her eyes, the slight quiver in her voice. For just a split second, I see beyond the designer clothes and practiced sneer to the girl underneath—the one who feels perpetually on the outside looking in, even in her own family.

"While you're what?" I press, genuinely curious now.

Her expression hardens so quickly I almost doubt what I saw.

“Nothing.” She waves a dismissive hand, armor back in place. “I just think it’s time someone knocked you down a peg. Showed you that your little blog and your cute personality don’t make you as special as you think you are.”

She stands, voice growing harder.

“So yes, I’m bored of it. And I’m bored of you floating by—scraping pennies from your nasty website while you leech off your best friend’s tuition money. I want to watch you dance to my tune for once. I want to see you beg.”

My cheeks burn. “Wow. That’s… twisted.”

“You asked.” She spreads her arms wide like it’s all so reasonable. “So here’s the deal: you break Jake’s heart, or I break your reputation. I leak your identity. Then you’ll see how fast your so-called friends vanish.”

My mouth feels like sawdust. She isn’t bluffing. She’s holding a loaded deck and I’m out of moves.

If I want to keep Penelope Darling under wraps—and avoid the entire Ice family’s collective wrath—I need to keep Sadie off my back.

Swallowing my pride is like choking on a mouthful of nails, but I manage. “All right. Fine. I’ll finish what I started. But you better stay out of my way. And you better not ever, ever threaten me again.”

Sadie’s smugness returns in full force. “Glad we could come to an understanding.” She pats me lightly on the arm as if we’re besties. “I do enjoy your fighting spirit, Piper. It’ll make this so much more entertaining.”

I resist the urge to punch that superior grin off her face. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

She offers a patronizing laugh. “I’ll leave you to stew on this. Oh, and Piper?” She waits until I’m forced to look her in the eye. “I’ll be watching. One wrong move, and I expose you faster than you can say pen name. ”

With a final, hateful smirk, she turns on her heel and strides back into the house.

My legs feel like jelly, but I manage to stay standing. After a few shaky breaths, I hurry away from the veranda.

I can’t stay here. I need space—and privacy—to freak out in peace.