"That's Ross…" Colton muttered, eyes locked on the image.
"Yup," a teammate confirmed, giving a grim nod. "And word is, that wasn't just a one-time thing. There's more. A lot more."
Another teammate chimed in with a smirk. "Heard that dude's packing a goddamn anaconda between his legs. Your wife Kristine probably walked funny for days."
The court exploded with another round of laughter—some taunting, some nervous, others just cruel.
Colton's hands curled into fists.
His knuckles turned white as the blood drained from his face.
He tried to breathe, tried to calm himself down, but the rage rising inside him was like a volcano ready to blow.
His teammates' voices blurred into static. All he could see was Kristine's face—her smile.
That same smile she used to greet him with after long days, now turned toward another man in freefall.
A man who wasn't just famous—but infamous.
And Ross Oakley? He had the reputation. The resources. The reach.
