Elena's POV

I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me shatter.

Instead, I turned and walked away, my heels silent on the rubber mats of the arena tunnels.

Every step felt like a mile and every breath felt like inhaling shards of ice. The laughter behind that heavy metal door, that cruel, harmonious sound, echoed in my skull, mocking every "I love you" Liam had ever whispered into my ear.

I didn't remember reaching the parking lot. I didn't remember starting the engine.

The next thing I knew, I was gripping the steering wheel of my Audi so hard my knuckles turned white, the massive structure of the Glaciers' arena looming over me in the rearview mirror. A place I used to call my second home. A place that was now nothing more than a monument to a year-long lie.

My phone buzzed on the passenger seat. A text from Sophia.

Sophia: “Good luck with the interview, sweetie! Let us know when you get the Green Card. Liam is so worried about you staying in the country!”

The hypocrisy was a physical blow. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out. Liam wasn't worried about my visa; he was worried about losing his free nanny. He wasn't protecting me from "crazy fans"; he was protecting his real marriage.

I was the "smart one." The best surgeon in the league. I knew how to identify necrotic tissue. I knew when a limb was too far gone to be saved.

And Liam Sterling was a cancer.

"If they want to play a game," I thought, staring at my reflection in the glass, "I'll play. But they forgot that without the doctor, the team dies on the table."

But then, fate decided to play its own cruel joke on me.

The bathroom floor was cold.

I sat on the tiles of our master bathroom, staring at the small plastic stick in my hand.

The silence in the house was deafening, heavy with the ghosts of a marriage that never existed. This house, bought with my savings, titled in his name "for tax purposes." Another lie. Everything was a lie.

Five minutes. The box said to wait five minutes.

I bought the test because the nausea I'd felt in the car wasn't just grief. As a doctor, I knew my body. I knew the subtle swelling of my breasts and the fatigue I'd blamed on the playoffs.

Liam had spent months telling me I was "broken."

“It's okay, El,” he would say, his voice dripping with fake sympathy after every negative test. “My swimmers are Olympic level. The problem must be your stress. Your body is just too tense to carry my baby.”

He had made me feel like a defective woman. He had gaslighted me about my own biology to pave the way for his mistress's child.

I looked down at the stick.

Two pink lines. Bold. Unmistakable. Pregnant.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat, choking me until it turned into a jagged sob. I covered my mouth, tears scalding my cheeks. I wasn't infertile. I wasn't broken. I was carrying the child of a man who was currently planning to use me as a pawn to raise his bastard.

The cruelty of it was absolute. He probably knew I could conceive. He just didn't want my child.

"You bastard," I whispered to the empty, expensive room. "You absolute bastard."

My hand moved to my stomach. A life. A part of me. But also, a part of the monster who had destroyed me.

The phone on the bath mat buzzed again, vibrating against the tile. It hadn't stopped for twenty minutes. Seven missed calls from Liam. Three from Sophia.

And now, a new name flashed on the screen.

Marcus Kane.

The owner of the Glaciers. The man who held my career, and my future, in his hands.

The vibration felt like a countdown. I closed my eyes for a single second, letting the heartbroken girl die and the surgeon take over. It was time to cut out the rot.

Elena's POV

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and picked up the phone. Marcus was the one who signed my paychecks. If I wanted to get out of this mess with my career intact, I needed to handle him.

"Hello, Marcus," I answered, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Elena," Marcus's gravelly voice boomed. "Where the hell are you? Liam is going out of his mind. He says you left the arena without saying a word."

"I wasn't feeling well," I said coldly.

"Listen to me, Elena. I got a call from your immigration lawyer. He says there's a 'hiccup' with the marriage certificate. Something about it not being filed?"

News traveled fast.

"It's not a hiccup, Marcus. It's a fake. Liam never filed it. He's legally married to Sophia."

I waited for the shock. I waited for Marcus to be outraged that his star player was a bigamist and a fraud.

Instead, there was a pause. And then, a sigh of annoyance.

"Look, Elena, I don't care about the paperwork," Marcus said dismissively. "That's personal drama. What I care about is the optics. The playoffs are in full swing. The Glaciers' stock is at an all-time high because of the 'Golden Couple' image you and Liam project. Fans love the star player and his genius doctor wife."

My blood ran cold. "You... you're not surprised?"

"I'm a businessman, Elena. I know Liam is... complicated. And I know about Sophia. She handles him well."

He knew. The owner of the team knew Liam was married to his agent while pretending to be married to me.

"So, you're okay with this?" I asked, my grip on the phone tightening. "You're okay with him committing fraud? With him using me?"

"I'm okay with whatever keeps Liam scoring goals," Marcus snapped.

"Here is what is going to happen. You are going to fix this visa issue quietly. If you need lawyers, I'll pay for them. You will stay by Liam's side until the season ends. No scandals. No breakups. If you leave him now, you destroy the team's morale. And if you do that, Elena... I will make sure you never work in sports medicine again. I will bury your reputation."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

They were all in on it. Liam, the star. Sophia, the handler. Marcus, the enabler.

To them, I wasn't a person. I was a tool. A prop to fix Liam's injuries and polish his public image.

"I understand," I said softly.

"Good girl," Marcus's tone softened, dripping with condescension. "Go home. Make up with Liam. He's planning some big surprise party for you this weekend. Smile for the cameras."

He hung up.

I stared at the phone. Good girl.

I looked back at the pregnancy test on the floor. Two lines.

If I kept this baby, I would be tied to Liam forever. He would use this child. He would use it to control me, just like he planned to use Sophia's child. He would parade us around as the happy family while he slept with Sophia in the next room.

And Marcus would help him do it.

I couldn't bring a child into this cesspool. I couldn't let an innocent life be a pawn in their twisted game.

I loved children. I had wanted to be a mother more than anything.

But not like this. Not with him.

My heart shattered into a million pieces, sharp and jagged. I picked up the test and walked to the trash can. I wrapped it in layers of tissue paper, hiding the evidence of the miracle I couldn't afford to keep.

I picked up my phone again. My fingers trembled as I searched for a number I had hoped never to use.

Women's Health Clinic - Appointments.

I dialed.

"Thank you for calling Eastside Women's Clinic. How can I help you?" a gentle female voice answered.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in my voice.

"I need to make an appointment," I said, my voice cracking slightly.

"Of course. What kind of appointment?"

I closed my eyes. A single tear escaped, hot and burning.

"For a termination," I whispered. "As soon as possible."

"We have an opening tomorrow afternoon at 2 PM. Would that work?"

"Yes," I said. "That works."

I hung up and walked to the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked pale, ghostly. But her eyes were dry now. The sadness was being replaced by something else.

Cold, hard resolve.

They wanted me to stay? They wanted me to be the dutiful wife for the cameras?

Fine. I would stay. Just long enough to get my visa sorted out through other means. Just long enough to collect every shred of evidence of their fraud. Just long enough to watch their empire burn to the ground.

Liam wanted a surprise? I would give him one.

But first, I had to cut out the part of him that was growing inside me.

I lay in the guest bedroom, the one Liam never entered, staring at the ceiling until the sun began to bleed through the curtains. My hand rested instinctively on my lower abdomen.

It was flat. There was no sign of life yet. But I knew it was there. A tiny cluster of cells that shared DNA with the man who was currently sleeping in a luxury hotel with his "manager."

I have to do it, I told myself for the hundredth time.

If I kept this baby, Marcus Kane would use it as leverage. Liam would use it as a prop. Sophia would probably try to harm it. Bringing a child into this war zone wasn't love; it was cruelty.

But every time I pictured walking into that clinic at 2 PM, my chest tightened so hard I couldn't breathe.

I shook the thought away. Survival first, Elena. Emotions later.

I sat up and grabbed my laptop. The clock read 6:00 AM.

I had thirty days.

Thirty days before my visa expired. Without a valid marriage to Liam, I was just a foreigner on a work visa that was tied to... the Glaciers.

Damn it.

Marcus had threatened to bury my reputation. If I quit, he would cancel my sponsorship immediately. I'd be deported within the week. I needed a new sponsor. A new employer who was powerful enough to tell Marcus Kane to go to hell.

There was only one team in the league with that kind of money and influence.

The Boston Titans.

Elena's POV

They were the Glaciers' sworn enemies.

Their captain, Noah Blackwood, was the complete opposite of Liam. If Liam was the golden "Ice Prince," Noah was the "Dark Knight." Brutal, efficient, and notoriously difficult to work with. He had fired three team doctors in the last two seasons.

Rumor had it he hated incompetence.

I opened my email. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn't need a resume; my reputation in the league spoke for itself. I typed a simple subject line:

Subject: Dr. Elena Vance - Availability.

I sent it to the general manager of the Titans. I expected a reply in maybe a few days, or a week.

I closed the laptop and went to the kitchen to make coffee, then remembered the pregnancy. I poured a glass of water instead.

Buzz.

My phone lit up on the counter.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

[Unknown: "Teterboro Airport. Private Hangar 4. Be there in an hour."]

I frowned. Who was this?

Another text followed immediately.

Unknown: "Bring your passport. - N. Blackwood."

My breath hitched. Noah Blackwood? He had my personal number? And he was in New York?

It was insane. It was dangerous. If anyone saw me meeting the captain of the rival team, it would be considered treason.

Perfect.

I grabbed my purse, my passport, and the medical bag I always kept ready.

Forty-five minutes later, I parked my Audi in the shadow of Hangar 4.

A sleek, black Gulfstream jet sat on the tarmac, its engines idling with a low whine. A man stood at the bottom of the stairs, flanked by two bodyguards in suits.

Even from a distance, Noah Blackwood was intimidating. He was taller than Liam, broader in the shoulders. He wore a charcoal suit that cost more than my car, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone to reveal a hint of tan skin. His dark hair was swept back, sharp and severe.

I got out of the car and walked toward him. The wind whipped my hair across my face, but I didn't flinch.

As I got closer, his eyes locked onto mine. They were a piercing shade of grey, like storm clouds over the ocean. They didn't scan my body like Liam often did; they stared straight into my soul.

"Dr. Vance," his voice was deep, a baritone that vibrated in the air. "You're punctual. I like that."

"Mr. Blackwood," I nodded, clutching my bag. "I sent an email to your GM twenty minutes ago. How..."

"I have alerts set for your name," he interrupted simply. "We've been trying to poach you for two years, Elena. Can I call you Elena?"

The intimacy of my first name on his lips made me shiver, but not from the cold.

"Elena is fine," I said. "But I think there's a misunderstanding. I'm still under contract with the Glaciers."

"A contract that is contingent on a visa sponsorship," Noah said, his gaze dropping to the ring on my finger. "And rumors say Marcus Kane is threatening to pull the plug if you don't play nice."

My eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

Noah smirked, a dangerous curve of his lips. "I know everything that happens in this league. I know Liam is a fool. I know Kane is a snake. And I know you are the only reason Liam's knees haven't shattered into dust yet."

He gestured toward the open door of the jet. "Come inside. It's freezing out here, and you look... pale."

I hesitated. "I have an appointment at 2 PM. I can't leave the city."

Noah paused. He looked at me, really looked at me. His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, as if he sensed the turmoil swirling inside me.

"We won't leave the tarmac," he promised. "Just a talk."

I followed him up the stairs.

The interior of the jet was pure luxury, cream leather, mahogany wood, the scent of espresso and expensive cologne. He motioned for me to sit, and he sat opposite me.

"Cut to the chase," I said, my hands trembling slightly on my lap. "I need a job. I need a visa sponsor. If you hire me, I can bring all my research, my rehabilitation protocols, everything. But I need it done fast. My status is... complicated."

Noah leaned back, crossing his long legs. "I don't just want your protocols, Elena. I want you. My team is strong, but they break easily. We need the best mechanic in the world."

"So, you'll hire me?"

"I can do better than that."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He placed it on the table between us.

I stared at it. "What is that?"

"A solution," Noah said calmly. "A work visa takes months to process, especially if Kane tries to block it. He has connections in immigration. He can drag your application out until you're forced to leave."

He was right. Marcus had threatened exactly that.

"There is only one way to bypass the wait times and make you untouchable," Noah continued. He opened the box.

Inside sat a ring. It wasn't like the modest diamond Liam had given me. This was a massive, radiant-cut sapphire surrounded by diamonds. It looked heavy. It looked like royalty.

"Marry me," Noah said.