Second Chance His Unending Love (Calista Hartwell) novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

The grand hall had reached its full capacity..

Each competitor stood poised at their designated station, a cluster of supportive family members gathered quietly behind.

The host, her voice brimming with passion, spoke of chess’s illustrious history and enduring legacy.

As her words faded, a judge stepped forward to detail the final round’s rules and scoring system.

“Enough talk!” A voice cut through from the audience. “We already know all this. Time’s running out-start the draw now!”

The implication was clear: once the pairing lottery began, any late arrival would face immediate disqualification.

With practiced calm, the host noted that the official start time had not yet arrived.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room.

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Sensing the mounting tension, Bradley himself took the

stage.

As the tech prodigy and visionary behind the event, his words usually commanded attention.

He began explaining his hope for the tournament-to nurture talent, to celebrate intellect.

But the mood had been carefully steered. “Mr. Ferrer, we didn’t come for a speech. We came for chess. What’s really going on? Are you stalling for someone?” another voice called out, sharper this time.

A murmur of agreement rose. “The runner-up isn’t here yet, is she?”

Eyes swept across the competitors’ section, confirming the absence. Discontent simmered into open complaint.

“Fair play? In this game?”

“Just start! This is being livestreamed-don’t ruin the event’s reputation!”

Bradley checked the clock, then allowed his gaze to drifts

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toward the back rows. Journalists and influencers stood

packed together, cameras aimed, phones raised. Every moment was being captured.

Five minutes remained.

He would wait for Olivia until the very last second.

Then a sharp cry cut through the noise.

“Look-is that her?”

“My God… Is she arriving in a military convoy?”

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched one of New York’s major avenues, a broad eight-lane thoroughfare.

Earlier, some had noticed something unusual-the normally bustling street had fallen silent, empty of all traffic except for the slow patrol of police motorcycles.

Many had assumed it was special traffic control arranged by Prosperity Tech, meant to ensure quiet for the

competitors.

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But this… this was different.

Just as restlessness crested over the missing finalist, those nearest the windows witnessed a sight that left them speechless.

A convoy of ten military-grade SUVS glided smoothly down the vacant avenue, moving with disciplined precision and undeniable presence-the kind usually reserved for officials of the highest rank.

All ten vehicles came to a synchronized stop directl

outside the venue’s entrance.

Then the passenger door of the lead SUV swung open, and a girl with a ponytail stepped out.

“It really is Olivia! The runner-up!”

Disbelief rippled through the hall as everyone pressed toward the windows.

A collective gasp followed.

Just who was this girl?

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What kind of influence did she wield to arrive at a youth chess tournament in such a manner?

While the crowd buzzed with speculation, Austin and Killian exchanged a knowing glance.

There was no doubt in their minds-this was Evander’s

doing.

Killian could hardly believe it. That Evander, a man at the peak of power and connections, would leverage his stature for something so seemingly ordinary.

If he were in Evander’s position, he would never risk professional scrutiny or disciplinary action-not for a child who wasn’t even family.

After all, this was just a chess tournament.

No matter how prestigious, was it worth compromising

one’s own career?

Palm-flat against the cold glass, Austin watched Olivia step onto the curb below. A bead of sweat trickled down the windowpane where his fingers had pressed. Across the room, the hushed chatter of the other contestants 6:05

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dissolved into a memory.

His own late arrival at the school awards ceremony clawed its way back-the heat of the stage lights, the sea of scornful faces.

Charles’ sneer had been a public flaying. Every schoolmate’s whisper, every camera flash, had felt like a separate wound. Humiliation, pure and complete.

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