Page 121 of Wild Card 13

Sarah turned her head toward Rawlings. “Charlotte withheld several communications and did not upload them to the shared event folder.”

Rawlings’s mouth flattened.

Ezra’s gaze cooled, not angry exactly, but close enough that I was glad I was not sitting in Rawlings’s chair.

Lucy spoke before the silence could sharpen too far. “We have enough to execute the event. Bea has the original planning documents, and I’ve reconstructed the run-of-show from the pieces available.”

She sounded perfect. And Lucy only sounded that perfect when there was blood under the floorboards.

Coach frowned. “So we’re missing information?”

“We are missing some historical context,” Lucy said. “Not operational capability.”

Damn.Even I wanted to sit up straighter.

Sarah’s mouth twitched like she approved and didn’t want anyone getting too comfortable about it.

Rawlings looked down at his coffee.

I looked at Lucy’s hand. Her knuckles had gone pale around the remote.

I hated that she was standing there in front of a room full of powerful people, absorbing the mess someone else had left behind and making it sound like a scheduling adjustment.

I hated more that my first instinct was still to make a joke. Not because it was funny. Because I wanted the room off her throat.

“So,” I said, looking down at the packet, “just to confirm, tomorrow I need to show up on time, act like a functional adult, not scare the fans, not make Bea regret believing in me, and let Lucy tell me what to do.”

Coach gave me a look. “Can you handle that?”

“Individually? Yes. All together? Historic challenge.”

Alois muttered, “The children will be fine. It is the adults I worry about.”

The room cracked.

Lucy blinked once, and some of the tension in her face eased.

Sarah glanced at me. Her expression did not change, but something about it sharpened. Like she had just moved me to a different column in one of her mental spreadsheets.Great.That was probably bad.

Lucy moved to the next slide.

“Player expectations are straightforward. Arrive dressed in team-issued warmups. Personal skates and gear are required. Equipment services will have backups available if needed. No personal social media during the fan portion of the event unless cleared by PR. No joking about injuries. No staged content with minors unless their guardians have signed releases.”

“Standard,” I said.

Lucy’s eyes moved to mine. “I wasn’t finished.”

I closed my mouth.

Alois looked vaguely entertained, which on him meant one eyebrow moved half a millimeter.

Lucy continued. “The tone matters. This is not an autograph conveyor belt. It’s not about player visibility for the sake of brand optics. It’s supposed to feel like the organization showing up for families in Northbend without making those families feel like props.”

Something in the room quieted.

That was Lucy.

Not the polished operations voice.