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For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien’s secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company.

On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his “charity project.”

Julien’s voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy.

He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left.

He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish.

He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn’t even afford next month’s rent.

Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering.

She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool.

He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity.

She didn’t scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute.

Logging into his company’s secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him.

Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn’t called in years.

“I’m ready. I want to come home.”

It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress.

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The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back Chapter 1

The final character blinked green on the screen. SUCCESS.

Caddie Kensington’s fingers, stained with coffee and grime, fell away from the keyboard. A wave of dizziness washed over her—the price of seventy-two sleepless hours. She slumped back into the cramped economy seat, the laptop on the tray table still warm.

Her head throbbed. She pressed her fingertips into her temples, trying to massage away the ache. Just then, the plane shuddered violently, followed by the suffocating silence of engine failure. Screams erupted. Oxygen masks dropped. Caddie unbuckled her seatbelt and stumbled toward the cockpit.

“I know aerospace engineering. Let me help.” Her voice was steady.

The instrument panel blazed with red warnings. She called out operating parameters, helping the captain stabilize the aircraft and bring it down on the Hudson River. The whole thing took only minutes, yet it felt like another sleepless night.

Rescue boats arrived quickly. Caddie slipped ashore with the other passengers, leaving no name. She opened her phone. The screen lit up, showing a photo of her and her fiancé, Julien Levine. Three hours ago, he had texted: “I’m at The Cypress Club. Waiting for good news. Our future is riding on you, babe.”

Three years since she’d walked away from her aerospace engineering degree at Columbia to pour everything into his company, Levine Dynamics. It was all about to pay off.

She hailed an Uber and told the driver to take her to The Cypress Club on the Upper East Side.

The doorman recognized her. “Mr. Levine is in the Cedar Room, second floor.”

She climbed the plush, carpeted stairs, her heels silent on the wool. The mahogany door to the Cedar Room was slightly ajar. She heard voices. Her hand froze.

Julien’s voice, familiar and magnetic. “Don’t worry, Kiersten. It’s almost done.”

Kiersten Parrish’s sweet, impatient reply followed. “How much longer? I’m the real Parrish daughter. Why do I have to watch that impostor holding the title of your fiancée?”

Caddie froze outside the door. Impostor. She had been told her entire life that she was the Parrish family’s adopted child—a mistake, a burden. Three years ago, when she had given up everything for Julien, the Parrishes had cut her off completely, as if she had never existed.

Julien chuckled—a low, cruel sound she’d never heard before. “Her? She’s just an orphan the Parrish family threw out. It’s her privilege to be used by me. Her coding talent is genuinely useful. She just fixed the last critical bug. As soon as this round of financing closes, I’ll break it to her. Without me, she can’t afford rent. I’ll give her some money. She should be grateful and get lost.”

Kiersten laughed. “That’s more like it. I’ve already started looking at venues for our wedding. How about next month?”

“Of course. My bride can only be you.”

Caddie’s blood ran cold. Three years of love—a carefully constructed lie. She wasn’t his partner. She was a tool.

She didn’t storm in. She had meant to turn away, but her body swayed with exhaustion. Her hand shot forward, and the door swung open before she could stop it.

The conversation stopped. Julien looked up, his face shifting from surprise to a practiced calm. Kiersten’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at her lips. And there, lounging in an armchair with a whiskey, was Caleb Nash—Julien’s closest friend.

“Well, well,” Caleb drawled, setting down his glass. “The little programmer arrives. Did you finally crawl out of your cave to beg Julien for a ring?”

Kiersten giggled, looping her arm through Julien’s. “She probably wants to show off her pathetic success. Like fixing a bug makes her valuable.”

Julien raised a hand, a fake conciliatory smile on his face. “Come on, both of you. Caddie, don’t take it personally. They’re just joking. You know we’re all friends here.”

Caddie’s gaze moved from Caleb’s sneer to Kiersten’s smirk, then to Julien’s smug mask. She spoke, her voice cold and level.

“So you’re going to marry her next month and get rid of me?”

Julien’s face flickered, then he forced a laugh. “Caddie, you misheard. We were just talking business—”

“What have I been to you these three years?”

He shifted, irritation flashing in his eyes. “This isn’t the time—”

“Did you ever love me?”

Silence. Julien didn’t answer. Kiersten snickered. Caleb took a slow sip of whiskey.

Caddie looked at him for a long moment. Then she said, softly, “You’re finished.”

She turned and walked out, her steps as silent as a ghost’s. The cold New York air hit her face like a brutal slap, but it only sobered her further. She pulled out her phone and opened the internal system for Levine Dynamics—a system she had built from the ground up. She executed the permanent, irreversible delete command. The “scorched earth” protocol. Then she deleted his number and the smiling photo.

Julien. Kiersten. Caleb. I will get back everything you owe me. With interest.

A black Bentley glided to a silent stop in front of her. The rear window lowered, revealing the face of a distinguished, middle-aged man. His eyes searched hers with a strange intensity.

The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back Chapter 2

Caddie recognized the car before the window finished lowering. She had seen it twice outside her apartment building in the past month, always at a distance, always waiting. She had never had time to stop.

Now she did.

The rear door opened. Burrell Kensington stepped out, his tailored suit immaculate despite the late hour. He stopped a respectful distance away, his eyes scanning her face with open concern.

“Caddie.” He said her name with an unusual gravity.

“You know me.” Her voice was flat. She was too tired to offer more.

“Your hands are shaking,” he said quietly. “When did you last eat?”

She looked down at her own hands. He was right. She curled her fingers into loose fists and let them fall to her sides. “I don’t remember.”

He reached into his jacket and withdrew a thin envelope. “A month ago, someone took a coffee cup from my building. A DNA sample. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Caddie didn’t deny it.

“The results came back.” He slid out a single page. “A 99.99% match. ”

His voice dropped, but it remained clear. “Which makes me your uncle.”

Caddie lowered her eyes. She had waited outside his office building for hours, eventually taking the cup from an assistant’s hand. She had needed an answer, and she had been terrified of it. For a month, the report had sat unopened in her inbox.

“You knew where I was all along,” she said.

“I did.” Pain crossed his face. “And I knew that for the past month, you’ve been running yourself ragged for that man. You couldn’t even spare an hour to have coffee with me.”

Caddie’s throat tightened. She turned her head toward the street.

“Your mother is still alive,” Burrell continued. “She has never stopped searching for you.”

Caddie turned back. “I need to deal with Julien first. Then I’ll come.”

Burrell didn’t argue. He simply nodded and stepped aside. “I’ll have someone follow you. For safety.”

She didn’t say no. She got into the Bentley, and Burrell gave the driver her address.

The apartment she had shared with Julien was cold and empty. Every object—the books on the shelf, the throw blanket on the sofa, the photos on the wall—was a monument to a lie. She felt no sentimentality. She pulled out two large suitcases and began to pack. She took only what was hers. Anything Julien had given her, even a paperback book, she left behind.

At four in the morning, Julien stumbled in. He smelled of expensive whiskey and a perfume that wasn’t hers—Kiersten’s. He saw the suitcases and Caddie methodically folding clothes, and his face twisted into a scowl.

“What are you doing? Having a breakdown in the middle of the night?” His voice was heavy with condescending impatience.

Caddie didn’t stop. She placed the last sweater into her suitcase and zipped it shut.

He strode over and grabbed her wrist. “Answer me.”

She didn’t pull away. She just looked up at him. The expression in her eyes was so empty it made his grip loosen on its own.

She withdrew her hand and reached up to unclasp the necklace from her neck. The delicate diamond chain. His engagement gift. She tossed it onto the coffee table, where it landed with a soft clink.

“What is this?” His voice sharpened. “Some kind of game?”

She picked up her phone.

“Don’t you dare ignore me.” He stepped closer, his chest almost touching her shoulder. “You think you can just leave? You can’t survive in New York without me. I gave you your job. Your friends are my friends.”

She didn’t answer. She opened her contacts.

“You should apologize right now,” he said, his voice dropping low. “And I can pretend this never happened.”

Her thumb tapped the screen. A call connected. She pressed speaker.

The frantic voice of Mark, the CTO of Levine Dynamics, filled the silent apartment. “Julien! Thank God! It’s a disaster! Our core server—all the core algorithms and data, it’s all locked! Someone just triggered the highest-level ‘scorched earth’ protocol!”

Mark’s voice verged on tears. “Everything—local, cloud backups—it’s all on a countdown to deletion! We can’t stop it! Was it you? This is top-secret clearance!”

The color drained from Julien’s face. He whipped his head around to stare at Caddie. “You did this?”

She ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.

“Answer me!” He grabbed both of her suitcase handles, blocking her path. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That code is the company’s property!”

Caddie looked at his hands on her suitcases. Then at his face. She said one word: “Move.”

Julien didn’t move. His jaw tightened. “You’re not leaving until we fix this.”

She stepped around him. He lunged, trying to catch her arm. She was faster. She pulled the door open, dragged one suitcase through, then the other.

Julien stumbled after her, his hand reaching for the doorframe. “Caddie—wait. Please. Let’s talk.”

She turned, looked him dead in the eye, and slammed the door.

The heavy oak edge caught him across the forehead with a dull, solid crack. He reeled backward with a strangled cry, his hands flying to his face.

Caddie didn’t look back. She was already walking down the hall, the wheels of her suitcases humming against the floor.

The first rays of dawn were breaking over the city when she stepped outside. She pulled out her phone and dialed Burrell’s number.

“Uncle. I’m ready now.”

The Discarded Genius Heiress Strikes Back Chapter 3

The call connected on the first ring. Burrell’s voice came through the line, calm and alert despite the hour. “Caddie. Are you alright?”

“I’m ready.” Her voice was steady now. “Come get me.”

She gave him the address. The black Bentley arrived within minutes. This time, Caddie didn’t hesitate. She opened the door and slid inside.

Burrell handed her a warm cup of coffee and a paper bag with a croissant. “Eat something. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

She took the coffee, cradling it in both hands. The warmth spread through her fingers. “I haven’t.”

The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the steel canyons of Manhattan behind. They drove north, crossing into the green, gated estates of Greenwich, Connecticut. The sky was turning pale at the edges.

Back in Julien’s apartment, chaos was still unfolding. He was on the phone, calling every tech expert he knew. The answer never changed: the data was gone. Irretrievable.

Caleb Nash arrived to find the apartment in disarray and Julien looking like a ghost. “What the hell happened? Where’s Caddie?”

Julien clawed at his hair, his voice ragged. “She left. She destroyed everything.”

Caleb, trying to distract him, turned on the TV to the morning news.

A news anchor was giving an update. “…more details on the miracle landing of Flight UA580 on the Hudson River yesterday. According to passengers, during the critical moments after the engines failed, a mysterious female passenger entered the cockpit and, using her exceptional aviation knowledge, assisted the captain in stabilizing the aircraft…”

A blurry cell phone photo appeared on the screen—the profile of a woman with long, dark brown hair and a determined jawline.

“The identity of this heroine remains a mystery,” the anchor continued. “The airline has publicly appealed for her to come forward, but she seems intent on remaining anonymous.”

Julien’s head snapped up. He stared at the photo. That blurry profile—it felt familiar. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Caddie hated driving. The idea of her flying a plane was absurd.

The Bentley carrying Caddie passed through imposing iron gates and stopped in front of a classical white mansion.

A woman in a crisp housekeeper’s uniform, white hair pulled into a neat bun, was waiting at the entrance. Eleanor Dawson, the long-serving head of the Kensington household staff. Her eyes reddened the moment she saw Caddie. “Welcome home, Miss.”

Caddie was led into a vast, light-filled living room. Burrell gestured for her to sit and placed a manila folder on the coffee table.

“Open it,” he said quietly.

Inside were a DNA report, trust documents, and a detailed summary of events.

Burrell began without preamble. “Twenty years ago, your parents—Doyle and Jane Kensington—were brilliant scientists. After the so-called accident, your mother lost her memory and was protected by the family. You were mistakenly placed with the Parrish family.”

Caddie’s jaw tightened.

“The Parrishes found a Kensington family heirloom in your swaddling clothes. They claimed you as their own daughter to collect the child support payments from a trust fund the family had set up for its lost descendants.”

“Their own daughter, Kiersten Parrish, was raised as their biological child. She enjoyed everything that should have been yours.”

Caddie’s hands curled into fists on her lap. She wasn’t the impostor. Kiersten was. Her entire life had been stolen.

“My mother,” she said. “Where is she now?”

Burrell’s expression softened. “She is still receiving treatment. Her condition is complicated. But she never stopped looking for you. We only confirmed your identity recently through the DNA test you arranged. Before that, the Parrish family’s financial irregularities kept leading us in circles.”

He pointed to a document in the folder. “This is the trust fund established for you by the Kensington family. And the stock certificates for several family-owned companies. Legally, you are their sole owner.”

Caddie looked at the figures without registering them. The money was nothing.

Eleanor returned with a bowl of warm soup. “Miss, please eat something. Your room has been kept for you all these years. Every piece of furniture, every book on the shelf—your mother chose them herself, before she lost her memory. She wanted you to have a home to return to.”

Caddie took the bowl. Her eyes burned, but she forced the tears back.

She looked up at Burrell. “I want to take back what’s mine. Not just the money.”

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After her boyfriend of seven years abandoned her, Nicole pursued his fiancée’s powerful uncle.

“Marry me, doctor. You can examine me whenever you want,” she teased.

He rejected her without hesitation, and every attempt to seduce him earned a cold refusal. Eventually, she gave up and agreed to marry someone else.

But on her wedding day, the aloof doctor stormed into her dressing room, furious that she’d chosen another man.

“You rejected me first. Am I not allowed to marry someone else?”

The man’s eyes blazed with fury. “Fine. You want me to examine you? Let’s do it right now.”

Everyone claimed Nicole’d married beyond her reach, but only he knew how much pride he’d sacrificed to win her love.

That night, his hands found her waist and held on tight, his lips finding hers over and over, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her.

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Dr. Heartbreaker, You Rejected Me First Chapter 1 Remembering Things Doesn’t Seem To Be Your Strength

“You’re really letting Nicole design your fiancee’s wedding dress, Brenton? What happens if she figures it out?” a man teased inside the private room.

Nicole Dawson stopped outside the door and forgot how to breathe.

Two weeks ago, her boyfriend, Brenton Blake, had commissioned a custom wedding gown from her. According to him, his friend Gillian Carter needed it for her wedding.

For ten nights in a row, Nicole had stayed awake and put everything she had into the hand-stitched lace and flower embroidery.

It turned out his so-called friend was actually the woman he planned to marry.

Nicole had spent six years with Brenton, from the age of nineteen to twenty-four. She’d risked everything on their relationship.

Their families were worlds apart, and it had always been clear to her. That was why she’d never brought up marriage and had chosen to wait.

Her dream was to make something of her couture studio. Then perhaps she could stand beside him without feeling beneath him.

But now, she realized Brenton wasn’t against marriage after all. He simply had no intention of marrying her.

Nicole’s lips curved into a bitter smile at her own expense.

Once love ended, there was nothing left to save. She had gambled everything and lost.

She was about to leave when Brenton spoke.

“She has no idea. Even if she found out, what could she do? That little studio of hers would have shut down without Blake Group’s support. As for her mother, two compatible kidney donors have already come up, but I stopped both operations. No surgeon in Cresville would dare operate on her without my approval.”

Cruel laughter burst from the room.

“You’ve got your little songbird locked up tight in that golden cage. Nicely done!” someone teased.

“That’s seriously twisted, and she still thinks you’re helping her,” another man chimed in.

Nicole stood rooted to the spot, frozen.

Her mother had been diagnosed with kidney failure a year earlier. She had volunteered to give her mother a kidney, but the tests showed they weren’t compatible.

She had broken down outside the hospital room, and Brenton had held her while trying to calm her. “Don’t worry, Nicole. We can afford the treatment. I’ll find someone who’s a match, and your mother will be okay.”

For an entire painful year, she’d believed he was actually helping them. Now she knew he had been holding back her mother’s operation.

He was using her mother’s life to keep her under his control. Fury tore through her at the thought.

She had wasted six years being a fool.

Her phone suddenly rang and cut through the silence.

“I’m calling from Cresville General Hospital,” the urgent voice on the line said. “Your mother, Maggie Dawson, developed a blood clot during dialysis. Her condition is critical.”

Every thought vanished from Nicole’s mind. Confronting Brenton would have to wait. She turned and ran for the elevator.

By the time she reached the hospital, the staff were rushing her mother into the interventional suite. A nurse approached with a form. “You need to sign the consent paperwork. Every senior attending is already in surgery, so no one is free to take her case.”

“How can no one be available?” Nicole asked, her voice trembling.

“Her kidney failure is severe, which makes the procedure extremely difficult. None of the junior doctors can manage a case like this…”

The nurse hadn’t finished when the elevator doors opened and a tall man walked out.

He removed his leather gloves as he approached, revealing his long fingers.

Several doctors in lab coats followed him and quickly explained the situation.

“Dr. Carter?” Surprise crossed the nurse’s face. “Didn’t your international flight just land? Dr. Jones said you needed to get some rest.”

He wasted no time. “Show me the scans.”

A resident immediately passed them to him.

Still dazed, Nicole raised her head and met his deep, piercing gaze.

She knew that face.

His name was Ethan Carter. He was the heir to the Carter family and Gillian’s uncle.

Something pulled tight in Nicole’s chest when their eyes met. An odd sense of familiarity came over her, though she couldn’t explain it.

Ethan studied her face for several seconds. His stare was keen and measured, but something she couldn’t read briefly appeared in his eyes. A moment later, he lowered his gaze to the scans again.

It took him only seconds to examine the images. He pointed to a section of the film. “Call anesthesiology. We’ll perform an interventional thrombectomy. Have the operating room prepared within five minutes.”

The nurse paused. “But she hasn’t paid the surgery deposit…”

“Forget the usual process. I’ll take personal responsibility for the bill,” Ethan said, cutting her off.

Nicole couldn’t express how grateful she was. All she said was a simple, “Thank you.”

Antiseptic hung thick in the hospital corridor.

Nicole’s thoughts raced as she tried to work out when the remaining payments from her studio orders would arrive. She needed to get two hundred thousand dollars as soon as possible and repay Ethan.

Clenching her teeth, she called Brenton. The phone rang for a long while before he finally picked up. But the voice that came through was Gillian’s.

“Brenton, someone’s calling from an unsaved number.”

“Don’t answer it,” Brenton replied coldly.

Whatever hope Nicole had left disappeared. She ended the call.

After closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath, she called her father, Aaron Dawson.

“Mom needs an urgent operation, and it costs two hundred thousand. Can you give me the money now? I’ll repay you on Monday.”

“Two hundred thousand?” Aaron let out an impatient scoff. “You’ve spent years with Brenton, but you can’t get that much money from him? I asked you to put in a good word for me so my company could work with Blake Group, and you refused because you wanted to act so righteous. Now you’re out of money, and suddenly I’m your father again? Well, you’re too late!”

He hung up with a hard click.

A dull pain spread behind Nicole’s eyes as she rubbed her temples.

Two hours passed before the surgery ended.

Ethan came out of the operating room and removed his surgical cap. “We cleared the clot, and she’s no longer in immediate danger. However, she needs a matching kidney donor as soon as possible. Stop by my office later so we can register her and complete the forms.”

“I will. Thank you, Dr. Carter.”

…

Nicole stood outside the ICU and watched her mother through the glass while Brenton’s words repeated in her head.

Escaping Brenton and saving her mother would take someone with even more power.

Ethan was the future head of the Carter family, and he was also the doctor treating her mother.

His support could save her mother. It would also force Brenton to think twice before taking any actions against her for the sake of his engagement.

Using a man who had just helped her would be shameless, reckless, and dangerous. Still, the idea took hold and wouldn’t release her.

She needed something strong enough to pull her from this mess. If she was lucky, it might also help her bring down the Blake family.

Nicole went into the restroom and faced the mirror. After wiping away the marks left by her tears, she touched up her makeup and headed for Ethan’s office.

He was seated behind his desk, reading through a medical chart.

“Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Carter. I need your help registering my mother for a kidney donor,” Nicole muttered, making her voice deliberately gentle.

Ethan looked up, his gaze landing on the lingering redness at the corners of her eyes. A brief silence passed before he responded, “Okay.”

“There’s also the cost of the operation. Could you give me your contact details? I’ll send the money the moment I have it.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ethan opened a drawer, removed a bank card, and pushed it toward her. “Put the money into this account. My birthday is the PIN.”

A flicker of disappointment passed through Nicole. Her attempt to get his contact information without raising suspicion had failed.

She took the card and spoke quietly. “In that case… when’s your birthday?”

Ethan stared at her as his expression gradually hardened. He gave the date slowly and clearly. “July 28th, 1999. And the PIN is 990728.”

“I won’t forget it, Dr. Carter.”

“You won’t?” Ethan’s voice chilled. “I’m not convinced, Ms. Dawson. Remembering things doesn’t seem to be your strength.”

Bitterness edged his words, along with something that almost sounded like pain.

Nicole couldn’t make sense of it, but she didn’t have the nerve to question him. She pulled off a sticky note and wrote down her number before placing it in his hand. Her fingertips brushed ever so lightly against his palm.

His fingers closed without thought.

“This is my number, Dr. Carter. Call me whenever you need to.”

Once the door shut behind her, Ethan lifted the note.

He had memorized those digits long ago.

His gaze grew colder. Then he opened his hand and let the small note fall into the trash.

Dr. Heartbreaker, You Rejected Me First Chapter 2 A Waist To Die For

Late that night, Nicole returned to Southgate Apartments.

A pair of leather shoes rested beside the front door. Brenton had come home.

The living room reeked of whiskey. Brenton lay stretched out across the couch, his tie undone, and the low light highlighted the sharp lines of his collarbones.

As Nicole stepped inside, he gave her a lazy, wolfish grin. “Today’s my birthday. Where the hell were you?”

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her onto his lap, then crushed his whiskey-soaked lips against hers.

The sight of his face made Nicole sick. She recoiled, but he gripped her chin and forced her face back toward his.

“You ungrateful little thing,” he murmured. “You can’t even wish me a happy birthday?”

His hand settled on her bare thigh and slowly moved higher. “Maybe I should be the one giving you a present for my birthday.”

Nicole’s pretty face had always attracted Brenton. It was the only reason he’d stayed with her for six years.

Her captivating eyes were what drew him in most. There was truly something special about them.

Her sweet, yielding nature also satisfied a hunger in him that nothing else could.

Nicole’s thoughts went to her mother and Gillian. The touch of his hands on her skin made her feel like throwing up. “Brenton, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

Brenton pinned her down and softened his voice into a low, coaxing purr. “What’s the matter, babe? Why do you look so unhappy?”

Nicole asked hoarsely, “When will you find a kidney donor for my mother?”

“I’m trying everything I can. Your mother’s condition is complicated. You already know that.”

He whispered the hollow reassurance against her neck. His lips stayed pressed to her skin as he spoke. “I’ll get a team of specialists to examine her tomorrow.”

Nicole closed her eyes and held back the bitter laugh that rose in her chest.

She moved on to her second question. “So when exactly do you plan to marry me?”

Brenton’s hands went still.

“Why are you asking me that out of nowhere?” He slowly ran his thumb along her lower lip. The gesture was deliberate, as if he were handling a pet. “I’ll give you anything you want. But marrying me isn’t an option.”

Sharp cheekbones, fine features, and bedroom eyes made Brenton a handsome man. Even a stranger could feel like the center of his universe when he looked at them. But everything that came out of his mouth was cold as ice.

“If marrying me isn’t possible, then we’re done. Aurora Studio will also end its partnership with Blake Group,” she declared.

The room fell silent.

Brenton’s amused look vanished. Something much more dangerous took its place.

“Marriage is nothing but a formality. Does it really matter that much to you? I love you. You’re all I’ve got. Why isn’t that enough?”

That was supposed to be love?

His version of love was lying to her about a kidney donor. It was letting her mother die. It was making plans to marry someone else while she slept beside him.

The irony made Nicole want to laugh. The man in front of her now seemed like a stranger, and the sight of him disgusted her.

“If marriage is off the table, then the least we can do is end this properly,” she said.

Brenton seized her shoulders and forced her down against the couch cushions.

“End this properly?” he snarled. “Have you even thought about what that would mean for your mother? Or that precious little studio of yours?”

He gave her cheek a light pat. It didn’t hurt, but the gesture was unmistakably condescending.

“I know you want to marry me, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you can threaten me by ending things,” he added.

Then, his phone vibrated, Gillian calling.

At that, he let Nicole go. His voice shifted to a warm and sweet tone the second he answered. “Yes, Gillian. I’m on my way.”

When he reached the door, he threw one last cold remark over his shoulder. “Go treat yourself to something nice if you’re upset. I don’t have the patience to coax you.”

The door slammed behind him with a deafening bang.

For a long time, Nicole remained on the couch. She didn’t move until the ache in her back had faded into a faint throb.

She pushed herself up and smoothed the torn hem of her dress. Then she walked into the bathroom with a completely blank expression.

Freezing water poured over her body. Her face looked deathly pale in the mirror, but her eyes were bright and piercing.

Once she was dry, she stepped into the walk-in closet.

Luxury goods packed the entire space. Brenton had given them to her whenever he was in one of his better moods. She’d never had the heart to use any of them before. Now she finally had a purpose for them.

She photographed the items and sent the pictures to a luxury reseller.

She typed, “All of it. Tell me how much you’ll pay.”

That same night, Nicole cleared every trace of herself out of the apartment. She pushed the keys under the management office door, then showed up on her best friend Amy Davis’ doorstep with a suitcase.

“You’re absolutely sure this is what you want?” Amy asked. She was still trying to process the shock. Everyone knew Nicole had been madly in love with Brenton for six solid years.

Nicole gave her a small, firm nod.

“Then pull your studio out from under Blake Group too,” Amy pressed. “If you’re cutting him off, cut every last tie. You took True Glamour to Vasiria Fashion Week while you were still in college. Why are you still letting Brenton have any claim over you?”

“Ending Aurora Studio’s partnership will cost five million dollars,” Nicole explained.

Amy went quiet.

No one knew Brenton better than Nicole did. He’d never let her go that easily.

As Ethan came to mind, she murmured, “Soon, that won’t be a problem anymore.”

The luxury goods were sold without a problem.

Two days later, Nicole received a sizable deposit in her bank account.

Out of the two hundred thousand dollars she owed Ethan, she transferred only half of it to his account. As for the rest, she’d used it as an excuse to get close to him.

Nicole woke up early the following morning. She covered the dark circles under her eyes with foundation and swept a little blush over her cheeks for a natural-looking glow.

She settled on a beige knit dress that was tailored to her figure without being tight. The neckline revealed just enough of her delicate collarbones.

She carried a thermos of broth she’d spent two hours simmering.

When she reached the hospital, Nicole found the office door cracked open and quietly pushed it wider.

The man stood with his back to her as he took off his jacket.

His broad shoulders and lean muscles made his back look like a solid wall. Morning sunlight shone through his white shirt and revealed the faint outline of his taut, powerful waist.

Her heart skipped a beat. One ridiculous phrase popped into her head—a waist to die for.

Ethan turned to face her. His fingers stopped halfway through buttoning his lab coat.

“Dr. Carter, I stopped by to thank you. My mom’s been doing so much better. I made some broth for you.” She set down the thermos and rubbed her bandaged fingers self-consciously. Her voice was cautious and apologetic. “I’m honestly not very good in the kitchen, and I’m kind of clumsy. I hope that’s okay.”

Ethan looked at the thermos before he slowly raised his eyes to her face. She looked exhausted, but she was still striking.

Something flickered in those dark, unreadable eyes. He knew she was putting on an act, but he let it pass.

“I’m a doctor. Saving people is what I do. You don’t need to thank me.” He sounded neither warm nor cold, just careful and distant.

Nicole didn’t let her smile slip. “It’s only a small thank-you. It doesn’t compare to everything you’ve done.”

She bit her lip. “And about my mother’s treatment fee… I was only able to put together one hundred thousand for now.”

She carefully fluttered her lashes to make herself look vulnerable. “Could I pay you the rest… a little later?”

Ethan responded with a brief, indifferent nod.

Nicole took advantage of the opening. “My mother will still need follow-up care, so could I get your number? I feel bad about bothering the front desk all the time.”

For a moment, he didn’t reply.

Nicole was already preparing herself for his refusal when he picked up his phone and gave her his number.

His fingers were long and elegant. His nails were neatly trimmed, and his knuckles were well-defined. He had a surgeon’s hands, and they were more mesmerizing than those of any hand model she’d ever seen.

Nicole stared at his hands in a daze. When he lightly shook his phone, she came back to her senses and quickly saved his number.

“I’ll come back for the thermos another time.”

She left the thermos behind so that she could see him again.

The door closed with a soft click.

Ethan studied the new contact on his screen.

For her profile picture, she’d used a selfie taken in front of Cresville University’s gates.

His thumb moved over the delete button and stayed there for a long moment.

In the end, he simply let the screen turn off.

As soon as Nicole left the office, every trace of softness and vulnerability disappeared from her face. She headed for the exit. When she passed the nurses’ station, she caught pieces of a whispered conversation.

She stopped when she reached the corner.

“Do you know what made Dr. Carter suddenly help that girl?”

“He paid for her mother’s two-hundred-thousand-dollar bill just like that.”

“But why would he do that? What’s the story there?”

Dr. Heartbreaker, You Rejected Me First Chapter 3 A Substitute For His Lost Love

One of the nurses spoke in an excited whisper. “That girl looks just like Dr. Carter’s first love.”

“You’re kidding, right?” another nurse asked as she moved closer. “Someone as cold as Dr. Carter had a first love?”

“I’m not making it up. Dr. Jones told me himself. He and Dr. Carter were classmates in college.”

Nicole blinked. That explained Ethan’s strange behavior in his office the other day.

Her fingers rose to brush her cheek. Apparently, she resembled the woman he first fell in love with.

Did that make her a substitute for his lost love? Perhaps… she could use that.

Once she left the hospital, Nicole headed to Blake Tower. Aurora Studio, her couture business, belonged to Blake Group.

She asked her assistant, Delilah White, to retrieve every order they had received during the past year.

Nicole read through the crowded figures from beginning to end. Each new line made her heart sink further.

Seventy percent of their business came from clients with ties to Brenton.

For years, she had lived in his world, and Aurora Studio had always received plenty of orders.

His influence had supported the studio for so long that she’d stopped noticing it.

The numbers now made the truth impossible to ignore. Brenton was the only reason her business had prospered.

All this time, she’d merely been fluttering around inside the golden cage he’d made for her.

Drawing a deep breath, Nicole said, “Delilah, I want you to manage these clients from now on. Don’t offer them any new collections, and don’t make any special effort to keep working with them.”

Surprise crossed Delilah’s face. “But most of our income comes from these clients.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll bring in new business.”

Nicole rose with a stack of fresh sketches and headed out to print them.

Everyone in the design department had gathered around Gillian. Brenton remained next to her, and they looked comfortable together.

A slight smile crossed Brenton’s face. “Today is Gillian’s first official day with Blake Group’s design department. We’re going out as a team to celebrate, and I’m paying.”

Cheers filled the office.

Nicole showed no reaction and turned toward her studio. Before she could leave, Clare Moore grabbed her arm. “Where are you going, Nicole? You’re coming with us!”

Nicole looked aside. “I’ll pass. I already have plans.”

Clare led the design team, and she’d always held a grudge against Nicole. In her mind, Nicole had no right to operate her own brand within the group.

A sneer crossed her face. “You’re the only one refusing to come. People might think we’re excluding you. Aurora Studio may operate independently, but the design department still oversees it. Gillian is our director now. The least you can do is show her some respect.”

“That’s enough, Clare.” Gillian walked over and spoke in a gentle voice. “Don’t mind her, Nicole. And come with us. I’ve been hoping to discuss motif design with you. It’s a specialized field, so who better to ask than an expert?”

Those few words backed Nicole into a corner. Everyone was watching her, which made refusing impossible.

The gathering took place in a VIP booth at Mirage Lounge.

Gillian and Brenton occupied the middle of the long couch and naturally drew everyone’s attention.

Sitting by herself in a corner, Nicole ran a finger along the edge of her soda water. The loud celebration around her only made her seem more alone.

Several bottles of liquor later, the group became noisy and proposed a game.

“How about an easy one?” Gillian suggested. “We each draw a card, and whoever gets the lowest one has to take a penalty. What do you think?”

“Yes! Let’s do it,” Clare exclaimed at once.

Everyone else agreed without hesitation.

“Don’t be too hard on us, Gillian!” someone shouted.

They began playing. During the next few rounds, someone had to drink three shots, while another was challenged to ask someone in the neighboring booth for their number. Laughter and noise filled the booth.

Luck stayed on Gillian’s side. She drew a safe card every time and never had to take a penalty.

Brenton didn’t participate. Instead, he observed the game with his usual calm distance.

Whenever Gillian looked over at him, he answered with a small, affectionate smile.

The deck reached Nicole during the next round.

“Your turn, Nicole,” Gillian said softly. “Relax. It’s only a game.”

Nicole extended her hand toward the card.

At that moment, Clare, who was sitting beside her, knocked over a glass as if by accident. Half the drink spilled across Nicole.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. It was an accident.” Clare snatched up some napkins and rushed closer, using her body to hide Nicole from everyone else. Her position also concealed the face-down card on the table.

Once the others looked away, Clare quickly replaced Nicole’s card with the one hidden between her fingers.

“I’m all right.” Nicole took a tissue and blotted the wet mark on her dress. The switch hadn’t escaped her notice.

“We’ve already gone through a bunch of rounds,” Clare said eagerly. “Why don’t we make this one a little more exciting?”

Curiosity spread through the group. “What do you have in mind?”

Clare glanced around before casting Nicole a spiteful look. Then she turned her attention to Gillian.

After receiving a subtle nod of approval, Clare raised her voice and said, “The person with the lowest card has to strip for us. Sounds fun, right?”

Cheers and whistles erupted around the booth.

Nicole had expected someone to try something. She’d hidden the highest card, the King of Spades.

Keeping her expression calm, she prepared to exchange the cards.

Then something in the darkened hallway beyond the group caught her attention.

A server was guiding someone she recognized into the next booth.

He wore a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Light briefly crossed his face as he walked past.

The man was Ethan.

Nicole wondered what had brought him here. Then a daring plan came to her.

Her cool gaze passed over the waiting faces. After the slightest pause, she turned over the card Clare had placed in front of her.

The Ace of Hearts stared back at her.

“She got the Ace of Hearts! That’s the lowest one!”

“Nicole lost?”

“I knew it! The pretty girl always ends up with the best penalty!”

The men in the group watched Nicole with obvious and unwelcome excitement.

A faint frown appeared on Brenton’s face, though he remained silent.

He expected Nicole to put aside her pride and ask him to save her.

One word from him would end the game.

Gillian’s mouth curved into a cold smile, and victory briefly showed in her eyes.

She knew about Nicole’s relationship with Brenton, but she pretended otherwise.

As far as she was concerned, Nicole was nothing more than Brenton’s hidden convenience. He had never planned to treat her with real respect.

Exposing the relationship would only make her seem petty.

In her eyes, Nicole should have understood her position and disappeared without a fight. Now, she decided to teach Nicole a lesson.

Still holding the Ace of Hearts, Nicole rose with a pale face.

Clare gave her a mocking look. “You picked the card yourself, Nicole. What’s the matter? You’re not backing out, are you?”

Nicole placed the card on the table and slowly reached for the buttons at the top of her fitted silk dress.

The first button came undone, followed by the second.

Anticipation spread through the booth.

Nicole checked Ethan’s position from the corner of her eye and made sure he had a clear view of her.

Her hand continued down the row of buttons.

The opening revealed a glimpse of skin above her collarbone.

Brenton’s expression darkened as irritation surged through him.

What the hell was she thinking? She was really going to do it.

He started to rise and stop her when a crisp, jarring sound rang out from the neighboring booth.

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In professional hockey, Omegas are banned. Theo Maren has a secret: he is an Omega, and he must hide it to survive.
For six years, Theo has pretended to be a tough Alpha. He uses heavy medicine and strict control to hide his true smell. No one suspects him.
Until his worst rival breaks his medicine injector on the ice.
Dominic Vale is the league’s golden Alpha. He is the captain of the rival team, and he has been obsessed with Theo for years. When Theo’s medicine fails during the championship game, Dominic is the only one close enough to smell him.
They spend one wild night together. Terrified of what they did, Theo runs away before sunrise. He leaves Dominic with a permanent bite mark on his shoulder and an empty bed.
Two years later, Theo comes back to the hockey league.
He is colder and quieter now. And he did not come back alone.
To protect Theo from a dangerous scandal, Dominic forces him into a secret marriage contract. Publicly, they are still enemies fighting on the ice. Privately, Theo lives in Dominic’s apartment and sleeps in his bed.
Theo thinks Dominic just wants to control and protect him. But Dominic wants more.
Because Dominic just discovered that the two-year-old boy with Theo’s eyes… also has his Alpha scent.
And this time, Dominic refuses to let his mate run away.

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Claimed on Ice: Marked by the Rival Captain Chapter 1 Illegal Scent

Theo POV

I have always hated championship games because they change people into someone you barely recognize.

The arena was loud around me. Thousands of voices were shouting against the glass so hard that I could feel the vibration every time my skates moved across the ice. The overhead lights made everything look really sharp under the scoreboard that was hanging above us like a verdict waiting to happen.

IRONCLAW TITANS. 3. NORTHCREST ROYALS. 3

There were forty-three seconds left. One goal would end the game.

I bent low at the face-off circle. I held my stick tight while cold air was burning through my lungs. My muscles felt like they were being held together by adrenaline. Under my gear, suppressant patches were on my skin. I was used to them by now.

Across the ice, Dominic Vale was watching me. He always did.

For three years, I pretended not to notice it during press conferences, airport interviews, and crowded hallways outside locker rooms. Dominic looked at people like he was quietly taking them apart piece by piece, but somehow, he always looked at me longer.

Under the arena lights, I could see him perfectly. Sweat was making his hair look dark beneath his helmet, and his shoulders looked broad beneath the Royals jersey, built from years of playing hockey. His jaw had clearly been broken once. It healed slightly crooked in a way that only made him look more dangerous. His hazel eyes were locked on mine.

He said, “Try not to cry when we win this game, sweetheart.”

I laughed under my breath. “Try not to break a hip, grandpa,” I said back to him.

He was twenty-eight years old, and irritating him had become one of my favorite things to do.

The referee dropped the puck. Everything became instinct. I moved before the thought could catch up. The puck was on my blade as the crowd erupted around us. I cut past the Royals defenseman fast enough for cold air to slice against my face.

I only needed one opening, half a second, and one clean shot.

Then Dominic Vale hit me.

The collision was strong. It threw me hard into the boards. The glass shook behind me as air vanished from my lungs, and the puck disappeared somewhere down the rink. For one disoriented second, all I saw were the arena lights.

Then I felt it. The injector beneath my gear shattered.

I was filled with dread as cooling liquid soaked across my ribs beneath my compression layers. I knew exactly what would happen next. Heat started beneath my skin, subtle enough that nobody else would notice but impossible for me to mistake. My scent glands reacted immediately. Panic twisted low in my stomach as warmth spread through my bloodstream.

Not enough for the crowd to notice. Not enough for my teammates.

Enough for an Alpha standing fifteen feet away.

I pushed myself upright quickly, my chest heaving beneath my gear. I needed to leave before my body betrayed me. Dominic grabbed my arm before I made it two steps.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his grip tightening slightly around my arm.

The second he touched me, my entire body reacted. I tore my arm free immediately.

“Do not touch me,” I said.

The sharpness in my voice cut between us. Dominic narrowed his eyes as he studied me carefully. I skated away before he could stop me again.

The game continued around me in chaos. Bodies slammed against the glass while coaches shouted over screaming crowds and skates carved across the ice, but I barely registered any of it. My heartbeat felt wrong inside my chest, fast and painfully uneven. Beneath the arena air, something faint and sweet slipped through my skin despite every suppressant still in my system.

Fear settled heavily inside me, quiet and certain.

I turned toward the bench. I skated harder, ignoring my coach shouting my name behind me along with the final seconds that had mattered more than anything only minutes earlier. None of it mattered now. The only things that existed were the hallway, the locker room, and the emergency suppressant buried inside my bag.

I had maybe five minutes left.

Somewhere behind me, swallowed by the roar of the arena, the buzzer sounded for sudden-death overtime. I never looked back.

The hallway blurred as heat spread deeper into my bloodstream. Stress always made crashes worse, and knowing Dominic Vale had been close enough to notice made everything unbearable in ways I refused to examine too closely. I shoved through the medical bathroom door, locked it behind me, and collapsed onto the tile floor. My hands shook as I tore through my bag, sending bottles and rolls of tape scattering across the ground.

Then finally, I found it. Relief washed through me so quickly it almost made me dizzy as I stared at the emergency suppressant in my hands.

Footsteps echoed outside the door. Controlled. Unhurried. Familiar enough to make my stomach drop instantly. It was the kind of recognition your body felt before your mind could deny it.

A quiet knock followed, deliberate and polite in the way dangerous people often were.

“Theo,” Dominic said through the door, his voice low and calm.

Pain twisted sharply through my chest. Maybe if I stayed still, he would leave.

“I know you’re in there,” he added quietly. There was no uncertainty in his voice.

The suppressant felt ice-cold in my hands while silence settled outside the door. Then I heard him inhale slowly and deeply, the kind of breath that sounded older than restraint itself.

Alphas only breathed like that for one reason.

Suddenly, Dominic Vale no longer sounded like my rival captain. He sounded hungry.

My stomach tightened as another wave of heat rolled through me, sharper this time. Outside the bathroom, Dominic let out a sound in his throat, restrained and rough like he was losing a fight with himself.

To my absolute horror, my body answered him anyway.

Claimed on Ice: Marked by the Rival Captain Chapter 2 Locker Room Door

Dominic POV

The moment I smelled Theo on the ice, part of me went still somewhere deeper than thought.

One second, I was skating toward him, focused on the game and the seconds bleeding off the clock. The next, something sweet cut through the smell of blood, sweat, and ice. It was faint, sharp, and completely wrong for a hockey rink.

Anyone else would have missed it completely. I did not.

My body reacted before my brain caught up. Every instinct I had went unnaturally still for one sharp second before turning violently possessive hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

Mine.

The thought hit so hard I nearly lost my balance on the ice. The intensity of it unsettled me immediately. This was Theo Maren. My rival. Not someone my body should have recognized this quickly.

It made no sense.

Theo played hockey like he had been built for violence, reckless and impossible to intimidate. I had never cared whether he was an Alpha or Beta because it had never mattered before. But I knew what an Omega smelled like, and Theo smelled exactly like one.

I watched him skate away while panic showed clearly in every movement he made. His gloves were gone, his helmet already off, and tension pulled hard through his shoulders in a way that had nothing to do with the game anymore.

Something was wrong.

A teammate grabbed my shoulder as the buzzer sounded overhead and the arena erupted around us, but I barely heard any of it. Theo had already disappeared down the tunnel, looking terrified, and I was moving before I consciously decided to follow him.

The hallway split into three directions past the tunnel entrance, but I did not stop to think about where he had gone because I did not need to. A faint sweetness drifted through the air, wrong for a place like this.

I followed it automatically.

The thought arrived and refused to leave. If I was right, Theo Maren had spent six years surviving like this through suppressants, patches, and injectors taped beneath hockey gear inside a league that would destroy him the second it learned the truth. He had survived this alone for years.

Part of me wanted to drag him straight to medical before this got worse. The other part already knew I was not letting anyone near him.

The maintenance corridor outside the bathroom sat nearly empty because championship chaos had dragged everyone back toward the ice. Security, medics, and press handlers moved in the opposite direction, leaving the hallway silent except for Theo’s scent and the uneven sound of his breathing through the locked door.

I stopped outside the bathroom near the locker rooms. I did not need confirmation to know he was inside. Theo’s scent slipped beneath the door, and my lungs tightened around it immediately.

“Theo,” I said.

Silence answered me. His breathing remained audible through the door, uneven enough to immediately put me on edge.

I knocked once and kept my voice low. “I know you’re in there,” I added.

No answer came. The sweetness in the hallway deepened. My hands closed into fists at my sides because if I could smell Theo through a closed door, any Alpha walking within twenty feet of this corridor could smell him too.

I pressed one hand flat against the metal. “Theo, open the door,” I commanded.

Several long seconds passed before his voice finally came through the other side, quiet and stripped raw.

“Go away,” he whispered.

He sounded wrong, breathless, and shaking.

I had seen this before while playing overseas in Russia. Omegas in suppressant crashes. His suppressants were not simply failing anymore. His body had already moved past the point where another dose would do anything.

“Did your injector break?” I asked.

Silence followed before Theo finally answered. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

“Open the door,” I said.

“No,” he shot back.

The word came too fast, and the strain underneath it made my jaw tighten. I forced myself to breathe evenly while keeping one hand against the door.

A few seconds later, his voice came again, quieter this time. “I just need another suppressant,” he muttered. “That’s all. I just need-”

“They aren’t working anymore,” I interrupted.

A broken sound answered me from the other side.

I rested my forehead briefly against the metal while tension pulled tightly through my shoulders. Inside the bathroom, something crashed against the tile floor before Theo swore sharply under his breath. Then his breathing changed.

A second later, his scent flooded the hallway in a dense wave sweet enough to sharpen my vision instantly. I sucked in one hard breath and held it. Then Theo made a sound through the door, soft and broken enough to strip away the last of my restraint.

Whatever restraint I still had disappeared after that.

I grabbed the handle, found it locked, and drove my shoulder into the door hard enough for it to slam open against the interior wall. Theo stumbled backward before catching himself against the sink with both hands.

I stood there staring at him.

He looked like someone who had been holding himself together for far too long and had finally run out of strength. Sweat soaked through his hair while his face burned flushed beneath the harsh bathroom lights. His chest rose unevenly beneath partially removed gear, and when his eyes met mine, they carried the desperate look of someone trying to decide whether fighting or running was still possible.

Beside his knee, the broken injector pen lay on the floor in two pieces. I stared at it briefly.

Six years of suppressants, lies, discipline, and exhausting control had come down to a shattered injector on a bathroom floor. Something angry twisted hard through my chest, not at Theo but at the fact that he had survived this alone for so long.

Then Theo hit me all at once, and whatever rational thought I still had disappeared instantly.

The bathroom door still hung crooked on broken hinges. Theo was still bleeding onto the floor. My entire body burned with instincts I barely recognized anymore. And the only thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I was not calling anyone. I was not reporting him.

Taking Theo home was a terrible idea. I did it anyway.

The decision was already made before I fully understood it, and that terrified me more than anything I had ever experienced on the ice.

Claimed on Ice: Marked by the Rival Captain Chapter 3 Don’t Touch Me Like That

Theo POV

The drive to Dominic Vale’s penthouse felt unbearable.

Rain hammered against the SUV windows hard enough to blur the city into streaks of gold and white light. But I could barely focus on any of it because all I could focus on was him. Cedar, smoke, and expensive cologne layered over that unmistakable Alpha warmth that settled deep into my lungs every time I breathed. With the suppressants leaving my system, everything felt worse. My thoughts turned heavy and tangled beneath the heat spreading slowly under my skin.

I hated it. I hated how good he smelled.

The silence stretched thick and suffocating while Dominic drove with both hands tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched hard enough for tension to flash across his face every time headlights passed over it. He had barely looked at me since we left the arena, and somehow that only made me more restless.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, his voice low.

No. “I’m fine,” I lied.

The strain in my voice ruined the lie immediately. His gaze flicked briefly toward my trembling hands before returning to the road. I shoved them beneath my sleeves.

A thought slipped out before I could stop it. “You should’ve reported me already.”

Dominic let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You really think that’s what I want?”

“Yes,” I said.

Why wouldn’t he? He was the league’s Alpha captain. Reporting me would have been the logical choice. Instead, he had dragged me into his car like I belonged there.

Streetlights flashed across his face as the SUV slowed at a red light. His expression looked harder than usual, controlled in a way that felt deliberate.

“League security would destroy you,” he said finally.

There was no cruelty underneath the words. No disgust. Just the truth, delivered like it cost him something to say it plainly. My throat tightened, and I turned toward the window before he could notice.

***

The elevator felt too small with both of us inside it.

Heat curled painfully through my bloodstream while the confined space trapped the smell of cedar and smoke around me completely. My skin felt feverish and oversensitive, enough that even fabric brushing against my waist hurt. I flinched once without meaning to.

Dominic noticed immediately, and a thought surfaced that I had absolutely no defense against.

Three years of face-offs, collisions, and Dominic Vale staring at me across the ice. I had spent all that time convincing myself it was rivalry, adrenaline, aggression-anything except the truth. The suppressants had helped the lie survive. They had allowed me to pretend my pulse only jumped around him because he was dangerous.

Not because some part of me had wanted him to notice me.

The elevator doors opened before the realization could settle, and I stepped out too quickly.

***

Dominic shut the apartment door behind us and finally turned toward me fully for the first time since we left the arena. Then he froze.

His gaze moved slowly down my body before settling on the blood soaking through the front of my jersey near my ribs. Concern tightened his expression instantly, and somehow that felt worse than disgust would have.

“Sit down,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

That Alpha tone slipped into his voice when he said my name next, low and warm enough for my instincts to react before my brain caught up. My legs nearly gave out halfway toward the couch.

Dominic caught me before I hit the floor. Strong arms closed around me carefully, one hand steadying my waist while the other supported my back. The moment his hands touched me, heat surged through my body hard enough for a sharp breath to escape before I could stop it.

Dominic went completely still.

I jerked backward immediately. “Don’t touch me like that,” I snapped.

His expression tightened. “How am I touching you?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

That was the humiliating part because he was not doing anything wrong. My body was simply reacting anyway. It always had. Every collision against the boards, every face-off where he leaned too close, every moment Dominic got within reach of me on the ice, I had spent years pretending none of it meant anything.

Now the suppressants were gone, and my instincts had stopped lying to me.

***

Dominic crouched in front of me once I finally sat down. That was a mistake because now he was directly between my knees, smelling like cedar and winter smoke and dangerous Alpha warmth.

“We need to get the gear off,” he said.

“No,” I whispered.

His gaze lifted slowly toward mine before dropping once more to the blood staining my ribs. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Everything inside me stopped.

No one had ever promised me that before. Not doctors, not coaches, not Alphas. People spoke about Omegas carefully, possessively, cruelly, but never gently. Never like it was simply the truth and nothing else. My throat tightened so fast it hurt.

Dominic must have seen it happen across my face because his expression shifted into something softer, something that had no business existing between rivals. My name sounded different in his mouth than it ever had on the ice. I looked away before he could notice that I almost believed him.

That was the worst thing that had happened to me all night, worse than the broken injector, worse than the heat, worse than Dominic Vale knowing exactly what I was. Because sitting there on his couch with his hands still warm against my ribs, I understood something that six years of suppressants had been carefully hiding from me.

I had wanted someone to say those words to me for a very long time. And I had never once let myself know it until now.

The truth settled inside me quietly and irreversibly, the kind that does not leave once it arrives. Then, before I could remember every reason I had spent six years making sure this never happened…

I leaned into his hands.

The moment I realized what I had done, fear twisted violently through my stomach. This was too close and reckless. Exactly how people ruined themselves.

But Dominic did not pull away. He did not say a single word. He simply stayed there, steady and warm, like he had already decided something I had not caught up to yet.

And that terrified me more than any of it.

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