Chapter 13
1101words
The house smelled stale.
That was the first thing I noticed when I unlocked the front door. Usually, our home smelled like vanilla, or fresh linen, or whatever expensive candle Elena had decided to burn that week. Now, it just smelled like dust and neglect.
"Elena? I'm home!" I shouted, dropping my gym bag in the foyer.
The sound echoed in the empty hallway.
"Seriously, Elena? You're still keeping this up?" I muttered, rolling my eyes.
It had been three days, maybe four?, since she ran out of the house like a lunatic after pushing Sophia down the stairs. I had expected her to be back by now. Where else would she go? She didn't have family in the States. She didn't have money, our accounts were joint, and I hadn't seen any withdrawals.
I figured she was pulling a power play. Hiding out in some hotel, waiting for me to call and beg. Well, she was going to be waiting a long time. She was the one who hurt Sophia. She was the one who needed to apologize.
I walked into the kitchen. The sink was bone dry. The refrigerator, usually stocked with my pre-game meals, grilled chicken, kale, specific protein shakes, was half empty. A carton of milk sat on the counter, spoiled and curdled.
"Gross," I grimaced, tossing it in the trash.
"Liam? Is that you?"
Sophia's voice drifted down from the upstairs guest room.
"Yeah, babe. It's me."
I walked upstairs. Sophia was lying in bed, surrounded by magazines and chocolate wrappers. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable.
"Did you bring dinner?" she asked, not looking up from her phone. "I'm starving. And the baby is kicking."
"No, I didn't bring dinner," I said, feeling a prick of annoyance. "I thought Elena might be back to cook."
Sophia scoffed. "She's not back. And honestly, it's better this way. The negative energy she brings is bad for my stress levels. Can you order Thai food? I want the spicy shrimp."
I rubbed my left knee. It was throbbing. A dull, grinding ache that had been getting worse all week.
"Can you get me an ice pack first?" I asked. "My knee is killing me. Practice was brutal today."
Sophia sighed, a long, exaggerated sound. "Liam, I'm pregnant. I shouldn't be walking up and down the stairs. You get it. You're the athlete."
I gritted my teeth. Elena never complained.
I pushed the thought away. Elena was a psycho. Sophia was the mother of my heir. I had to prioritize.
"Fine," I snapped. "I'll order the food."
The next morning, the situation went from annoying to catastrophic.
I walked into the Glaciers' locker room, expecting the usual pre-game buzz. Instead, it was chaos.
"Where the hell is the tape?" rookie Tyler was shouting at the temp trainer. "My shoulder feels loose! I need the specific taping method Dr. Vance uses!"
"I don't know what method that is!" the temp, a sweaty guy named Dr. Green, yelled back. "There's nothing in your file! It just says 'See Dr. Vance's notes'!"
"So look at the notes!"
"I can't! The folder is empty!"
I frowned, limping over to my locker. "What's going on?"
Coach Miller stormed out of his office, his face a shade of purple I had never seen before. He spotted me and marched over, poking a finger into my chest.
"You," he growled. "Fix this. Now."
"Fix what, Coach?"
"Your wife!" Miller screamed. "We just got a notification from IT. The entire medical database has been wiped. Every rehab protocol, every diet plan, every injury history log for the last five years. Gone. Deleted."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"And that's not all," Miller threw a stack of papers at me. They fluttered to the floor. "We just received a cease-and-desist order from a law firm in Boston. Blackwood & Partners. They represent Dr. Elena Vance."
I froze. The noise of the locker room faded into a buzz.
Blackwood.
Noah Blackwood.
"She resigned," Miller said, his voice shaking with rage. "She quit, Liam. And she took everything. She claims the data is her Intellectual Property. We can't use any of it. We don't even know what dosage of painkillers you're supposed to be on because she deleted the logs!"
I stared at the papers on the floor.
Resignation effective immediately.
She didn't just run away. She declared war.
"That... that bitch," I whispered.
"Get her back, Sterling," Coach Miller hissed. "We have the Bruins tomorrow. If I have to bench half the starting lineup because we can't medically clear them without her data, I will trade you to a farm team in Alaska before the sun sets. Do you hear me?"
He stormed off.
I stood there, my teammates staring at me with a mixture of anger and panic.
"Way to go, Liam," someone muttered.
I grabbed my phone. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely unlock the screen.
She couldn't do this. She was my wife. She was my employee. She couldn't just leave and take my career with her.
I dialed her number. I was going to scream at her until she fixed this. I was going to threaten her with everything I had.
“We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
The automated voice was cool, polite, and final.
Disconnected.
She had cut the line.
A wave of pure, cold panic washed over me. For the first time, the reality of the situation cracked through my arrogance.
She wasn't at a hotel. She wasn't waiting for me to apologize.
She was with Noah Blackwood.
I looked down at my knee. It throbbed in time with my heart. Without Elena, who was going to fix it? Without Elena, who was going to manage the press? Without Elena, who was going to make this house a home?
I thought of Sophia, lazy and demanding in the guest room. I thought of the empty fridge. I thought of the silence.
I stumbled back and sat heavily on the bench.
"She'll be back," I said aloud, trying to convince myself. "She has to come back. Her visa... she needs the visa. Marcus will deport her."
But even as I said it, I remembered the name on the legal documents. Blackwood & Partners.
Noah Blackwood didn't need a visa sponsor. He owned the team. He owned the politicians. If she was with him...
"No," I whispered.
I had tried to break her. I thought she was glass.
But I had forgotten that diamonds don't break. They just cut.
And she had just cut my throat.
