Cameron

The second I end the video chat with Maddie, I accept the call waiting on the other end, clutching my phone with white knuckles as I bring it to my ear. "Well?" I ask bitterly. "Did you do something about it?"

Brock, my new manager, scoffs on the other end. "We're doing everything we can, but we can't find where the video originated from."

"I told you where it originated from. It's on her fucking phone."

"That we currently don't have access to. The video showed up in my email under an unknown email address. There isn't proof that it was her who sent it, so we can't confiscate it."

"Then ask the police! Ask them to fucking trace it!"

"You really want to bring them into this? Cameron, if this video ever sees the light of day, you're done for. Whether or not the police aren't allowed to share it, it doesn't mean they won't. If someone got their hands on this tape, they could make thousands. It's best to keep this between your team for now. With people you trust."

My veins are thrumming with rage. I'm so pissed I can't sit down any longer, throwing the comforter off and rising to my feet to pace back and forth on the hardwood floors of my bedroom.

I thought Katie, my psychotic ex, deleted our sex tape. I watched her with my own two eyes. Now the video mysteriously shows up in my manager's inbox? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who sent it. I don't give a fuck if it's from an unknown email. I know it's her.

And the worst part? The email didn't come with any text. There wasn't a ransom attached or even so much as a threat. In a way, I almost wish there was. That way, I'd know it was definitely Katie coming back to ruin my life and not throwing my life in the balance, waiting for her to strike at the worst possible time.

What was the point of sending it? Does she want me to know she's still around? Is she wanting something from me? I thought this was all erased and thrown in the past. Now that it's returning at full force, I can't seem to drag air into my lungs.

If she still has our sex tape, does that mean she still has the video of Maddie doing drugs that night? Oh, god. She does, doesn't she? And Maddie has been studying her ass off abroad in Germany for the past ten months. If she knows Katie might be back, she'll never stay in Germany. She'll get on the next flight out to strangle her with her bare hands. I remember her last encounter with her at the charity gala, and it wasn't pretty.

"So, what does this mean?" I ask, realizing I've been sitting on the phone in silence. "Where do we go from here?"

"I think we wait and see if anything more follows this email. She must want something if she's who you're claiming her to be. We'll figure it out. If it's money, we'll send it and have this be done with."

"No way in hell," I sneer. "She's not going to get away with this! I want both of those videos deleted permanently. Give me Jack's number. I'm calling him."

Brock sighs. "I've been in contact with Jack, and your lawyer is on the same page. Until we figure out who is responsible for this, there's not much we can do."

"Hire a private investigator," I tell him. "I don't care how much it costs. Hire a tech wiz for all I care to trace the IP address. Just figure it out."

"Cameron—"

I end the call before I freak the fuck out, but my heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. I'm going into a full-blown anxiety attack as I stagger over to the window, attempting to take full breaths.

There is no way this can be happening. For the first time, things have been running smoothly for Maddie and me, and now Katie is coming back again to ruin us. I don't understand it. Why can't things ever be easy?

Staring into the streets of downtown Los Angeles, I attempt to focus on anything but my chaotic thoughts. A couple walking their baby. Three teenagers taking a selfie. A man in the midst of a run. A dog-walker struggling with five leashes. None of it helps.

If I had known life would become this difficult being famous, I never would have signed up to play professional football. Well, that might be a little dramatic. Football has always been my passion, and I'm blessed to be able to do this every single day, but this lifestyle isn't rainbows and butterflies.

I can't go anywhere without being recognized. I'm hounded by the paparazzi the second I leave my building, and despite being able to get anything I want, I can't shake the feeling of missing when I was just a regular teenager playing football with friends. Life was so much easier then. I didn't have to think twice about what I said or have personal security follow my every move.

I miss home in Phoenix. I miss Maddie—the only woman who has loved every single version of myself. The nerdy kid who collected Pokemon cards, the player I became in high school, and now the famous football star. She's always seen me. Just me.

And even though I just talked to our beautiful daughter we made together not even ten minutes ago, the emptiness in my chest is hollow without her in my arms. I miss her bouncing blonde curls and her stubby hands locking around my neck. I miss reading her bedtime stories and watching Encanto on repeat.

I miss my family.

Staring at my phone again, I video call Maddie for the second time today. She answers with a questionable look on her face, but still, the sight of her has my racing heart slowing down already. "You hung up super quickly," she says. "Who was on the phone?"

I'm not going to tell her about the video resurfacing. Not when she's already got so much on her plate there. She'll be home in two months, and we can handle it together then.

"Brock," I reply. "He's been up my ass about another magazine shoot."

She laughs, and the sound is like music to my ears. "Unsurprising after the last one did so well. I'm still seeing photos of it on my feed. You didn't have to call me back, you know. I said I'd call you after I put Izzy down."

Letting out a sigh, I lay back on my bed and put an arm behind my head. "I know, but I wanted to see your face again. I miss the hell out of you guys."

She finishes fixing Izzy some mac and cheese before she turns to look at the camera fully. With an arched brow, she scans my face before she asks, "Are you okay?" I should know better than to underestimate her. She knows me better than anyone. Of course, she'd recognize when something is bothering me.

But I refuse to tell her. Not yet. For now, we don't even know if it's Katie who sent the email. Until there's a plausible threat, she doesn't have to know.

"I'm fine," I say instead. "Can I stay on the phone with you guys for a bit?"

With a sad smile, Maddie nods her head, dishing the mac and cheese into a kid-sized bowl for Izzy. She spins around in the camera to grab a spoon from one of the pull-out drawers, and my god. The hard-on I was sporting not even a half-hour ago comes back in full force.

Maddie, my insatiable wife, is the finest woman on earth. Her ass seems more toned since I last saw her, and I didn't even think that was possible.

Or is it those jeans she's wearing?

Yeah, it's definitely been too long.

"Hello?" She whirls back around, waving a hand to the camera. "Did you freeze or something?"

I snap out of my thoughts, but my wife's tits bounce from the movement. I'd give anything to take her right in that kitchen. In fact, the last time I was there, I did take her in that kitchen. After Izzy went to sleep, I bent her over that island, shoved her leggings down to her ankles, and plunged right into her soaking wet—

Heaving a sigh, I inhale deeply and regain focus. She's right, after all. Now is not the time to tease her when Izzy is still awake. The thing with Maddie, though, is she doesn't even need to do anything sexual to keep me entertained. Every little thing she does has always fascinated me.

That's why, for the next hour, I'm more than content watching her feed our daughter mac and cheese.