Chapter 682: Chapter 682 Brownies
“That’s Ross…” Colton muttered, eyes locked on the image.
“Yup,” a teammate confird, giving a grim nod. “And word is, that wasn’t just a one-ti thing. There’s more. A lot more.”
Another teammate chid 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—so taunting, so 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 sa 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.
Colton knew he couldn’t compete with that. Not in money. Not in lifestyle. Not in size.
The thought made his stomach churn.
“That bitch…” Colton hissed, voice cracking with fury.
“Fuck!”
He hurled the basketball across the court, sending it bouncing violently off the far wall.
Then, without another word, he tore off his practice jersey and stord toward the locker room.
“Damn…” soone muttered as he passed.
“You guys really shouldn’t have said anything,” another said quietly, but no one stopped him.
The court went silent behind him as Colton disappeared through the exit.
What none of them knew was that he wasn’t going ho to talk things out.
He was going to find Kristine.
And this ti, it wasn’t going to end in laughter.
***
Colton took the first flight back to his ho city, his mind churning the entire way.
The seatbelt felt like a restraint, holding him back from the confrontation he knew was coming.
As soon as the plane touched down, he didn’t wait—he rushed straight ho, his heart pounding with dread and fury.
But when he stepped through the front door, silence greeted him.
The house was cold, quiet—too quiet.
Lights were off, and not a single trace of life lingered inside.
It didn’t feel like a ho anymore. It felt like a shell.
His jaw clenched as he tossed his bag onto the couch and pulled out his phone.
He dialed Kristine.
No answer.
He cursed under his breath and called again.
Still nothing.
By the third try, his blood was boiling.
When the call finally connected, thumping bass nearly burst his eardrum.
People were laughing in the background, shouting over the music.
It didn’t sound like a quiet night in with friends—it sounded like a party.
“Where the fuck are you?” Colton snapped, barely able to keep his voice steady.
“What?” Kristine’s voice ca through, muffled and distracted.
“I said—where the fuck are you?” he shouted, his voice cracking with rage.
“Oh… I’m with Sasha right now,” she said after a mont, her tone too casual, too unconcerned. “We’re at a birthday party with so friends.”
“A birthday party?” Colton repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Who else is with you?”
Kristine hesitated just a second too long. “Just and Sasha and a few friends from college,” she answered.
“Lies!” he exploded. “You’re with Ross Oakley, aren’t you? Tell —is he there with you?”
“No, he’s not,” she replied quickly, but there was a beat—a small pause that made Colton’s stomach twist.
He didn’t believe her. Not entirely.
“Tell where you are,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll co get you. We need to talk. Now.”
Kristine was quiet for a mont.
The music still played, voices still shouted and laughed in the background—but she sounded different now.
Tired. Maybe even resigned.
“I’ll co ho later,” she said at last, her voice quieter, more grounded. “And you’re right, Colton. We do need to talk.”
Her words sent a chill through him. Sothing about her tone… it wasn’t just guilt.
It wasn’t just defensiveness. It was finality.
And for the first ti since boarding that plane, Colton wasn’t angry.
He was scared.
***
The hours crawled by, each minute like a drop of acid eating away at Colton’s patience.
The house remained dark and still, the silence so thick it rang in his ears.
He had tried pacing, tried drinking, tried breathing just to keep from exploding, but nothing worked.
He kept glancing at the front door, as if sheer willpower would force it to open.
It was nearly 3 a.m. when he finally heard the sound he’d been waiting for—the soft jingle of keys, the click of the lock.
She was ho.
Colton rose to his feet slowly, his pulse pounding in his neck.
The anger that had simred all night surged forward, demanding release.
But when the door swung open, what he saw stopped him cold.
Kristine stepped inside first, her eyes red-rimd but dry.
She looked exhausted, her face unreadable. But it wasn’t her that held Colton’s gaze.
It was the man beside her.
Ross Oakley.
The sa smug bastard Colton had hated for years.
The sa arrogant, backstabbing prick he had suspected all along.
And now here he was—standing in Colton’s house, looking comfortable, even casual, as if he belonged.
“Hello, Colton,” Ross said with a wide grin, his voice smooth and dripping with fake politeness. “Long night?”
Colton’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
His jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. But he didn’t look at Ross.
He looked at Kristine.
Straight into her eyes.
“Why is he with you?” Colton asked, voice low and bitter.
Kristine hesitated, then took a deep breath.
Her gaze didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of guilt—of sha—just behind her eyes.
“There’s sothing I need to tell you,” she said.
He waited. The tension stretched the air like a wire, ready to snap.
“I’m pregnant,” she continued. Her voice trembled slightly, but she pushed through. “And the baby… it’s Ross’s.”
The room fell into a deathly silence.
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