"The Wilson twins are ranked players," Xander said as he and Elena walked toward the court, rackets in hand. "I'll handle the baseline rallies and the serves. You stay back and cover the middle unless I call you up."
Translation—I'll do all the work. While you stand there and look pretty.
It wasn't a suggestion. It was dismissal.
Elena said nothing. She just calmly followed a step behind him.
The moment they stepped onto the court, the atmosphere changed.
Heads turned. Conversations dropped into whispers. Eyes followed her...some curious, some judgmental, some openly hostile. She couldn't tell whether they were staring because Xander Armstrong was actually playing… or because she didn't belong.
Probably both.
Across the net, the Wilson twins waited.
One man. One woman.
Both tall. Both athletic. Both wearing smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
They moved closer to the net with the confidence of people who were used to winning and rubbing it in.
"Didn't think we would ever see you back out here, Xander." the male twin said, spinning his racket lazily. His tone was smug. "Thought you quit after you realized you couldn't keep up anymore."
Xander didn't even blink.
"I'm still here," he said flatly. "And I'll still wipe the court with you."
The man laughed, sharp and mocking.
"We'll see about that."
His gaze slid to Elena, openly sizing her up.
"Let's hope your partner can return a serve," he added. "Otherwise this match will be over before it starts."
The female twin smirked, folding her arms. Her eyes lingered on Elena a second too long, looking at her like she was a cute decoration.
A staff member stepped forward, clipboard in hand, calling for positions and reminding them of the rules. The murmur from the audience faded into tense silence.
Elena tightened her grip on the racket.
She lifted her eyes to the Wilson twins and smiled.
They had no idea what they were about to start.
The male Wilson twin took position to serve.
The crowd settled, expectant.
The ball left his racket fast and sharp—aimed straight at Elena.
She moved a fraction too late.
The ball struck the court behind her and bounced past untouched.
Point. Wilsons.
The reaction was instant.
Gasps rippled through the audience, followed by murmurs, then open whispers. Some people didn't even try to hide their smiles. Others shook their heads.
It was obvious what the twins were doing.
They were going to target her.
In the Armstrong tent, Victoria scoffed loudly.
"She can't even play," she said, lips curling. "What a disgrace."
Aunt Helen frowned.
"It was the first serve," she muttered. "Give her some grace."
Victoria didn't answer. Her attention was already back on the court.
Xander turned his head slightly toward Elena.
"Keep your eyes on the ball," he said coldly, like it was a chore to say it at all.
Elena rolled her eyes.
Then she adjusted her stance.
She planted her feet. Lowered her center of gravity. Her grip tightened around the handle until her knuckles paled.
The noise of the crowd faded.
Her focus narrowed.
Her eyes sharpened—locked on the Wilson twin as he prepared to serve again.
This time, she wouldn't miss.
The second serve came faster.
Harder.
The Wilson twin put everything into it—shoulders twisting, jaw clenched, racket snapping through the air. The ball screamed across the court, low and vicious.
Elena didn't flinch.
She stepped into it.
Her return was sharp and clean, slicing past the net with insane precision. The ball kissed the line—barely in—and rocketed past the female twin before she could even react.
Silence.
Then—
Gasps.
The crowd shifted. People leaned forward in their seats.
Xander moved instantly.
He cut across the net like he had been waiting for that exact shot, intercepting the weak return and slamming it down at an impossible angle.
Point. Armstrong.
Elena didn't celebrate. She had already decided how this game would end.
The twins exchanged a look.
Annoyance flickered across their faces.
The next rally was brutal.
Serve. Return. Volley. Smash.
The ball moved so fast it blurred. Elena stayed back, feet light, posture flawless. She read the court like a map, placing shots exactly where they would hurt the most—not the body, but the pride.
Just out of reach.
Just close enough to feel stupid for missing.
Xander owned the net next to her.
He blocked. Cut. Redirected.
Anyone trying to get past him failed.
Anyone trying to lob over him found Elena waiting—destroying the ball from the baseline with effortless power.
They didn't talk.
They didn't look at each other.
They didn't need to.
They moved as one.
When Xander shifted left, Elena adjusted right. When she stepped forward, he pulled back. Their rhythm was seamless.
Aura matched aura.
The Wilson twins started breathing harder.
Their confidence gone.
Whispers rose around the court.
"Who the hell is she?"
"She's definitely not an amateur."
"Does she play professionally?"
"Why do they look so… perfect together?"
In the Armstrong tent, heads turned. Smiles appeared.
Paul leaned forward, eyes narrowing with interest.
"Damn," he muttered. "The girl is actually good."
Maddox laughed under his breath, eyes glued to Elena.
"I knew it," he said smugly. "She should have been my partner."
Even Daphne their grandmother, clapped weakly, confusion forgotten as she watched the movement on the court.
Everyone—
Except Victoria.
She sat rigid, fingers clenched around her drink, jaw tight. Her eyes never left Elena.
Every point Elena won felt like a personal insult.
The score climbed fast.
The Wilson twins lost composure.
The male twin served again, harder than before. The ball aimed straight at Elena's shoulder, aggressive and intentional.
Elena returned it without hesitation.
The ball flew past him, straight down the line, bouncing high enough that he had to turn his head to follow it.
The crowd laughed.
The female twin hissed something under her breath.
The next rally turned ugly.
They started playing rough—shots aimed too close, volleys meant to rush her, force mistakes, crowd her space.
Elena welcomed it.
She stepped into their aggression like it belonged to her.
When they rushed the net, she lobbed just high enough to make them scramble. When they stayed back, she dragged them forward with soft drops, then crushed them with brutal passes.
She smiled between points.
She was actually enjoying herself.
The male twin slammed his racket against his thigh after missing another return. Sweat dripped down his face.
"You're lucky," he snapped across the net.
Elena tilted her head slightly.
"No," she said calmly. "I'm just better."
Xander didn't smile.
But his eyes darkened with approval.
The final game came fast.
The score tight—but the momentum entirely theirs.
The crowd was on its feet now. No one sat. Every serve felt like a showdown.
The Wilson twin served the last point.
He put everything into it.
The ball flew.
Elena moved.
Her return was brutal.
Xander intercepted the weak response and sent it screaming back, forcing the female twin to dive.
She barely touched it.
The ball popped up.
Too high.
Too slow.
Elena didn't hesitate.
She stepped forward and smashed it.
The sound echoed.
The ball struck the court and bounced past them untouched.
Game.
Set.
Match.
For a split second—
Silence.
Then the court exploded.
Applause. Cheers. Shouts.
People stood, clapping openly now, no longer pretending it was polite interest.
Elena straightened slowly, heart steady, breathing calm.
She smiled.
The Wilson twins stood frozen—stunned, humiliated, beaten.
Xander turned to her.
For the first time all game, they looked at each other.
"Nice work," he said quietly.
Elena met his gaze.
"You too."
In the tent, Maddox laughed loudly, clapping.
"She's definitely playing as my partner next time."
Paul nodded, impressed.
"She plays like she owns the court."
Victoria said nothing.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes burned.
Elena stepped off the court knowing one thing for certain—
This game had changed everything.