Chapter 5

Bradley's POV

I adjusted the thick white tape around the handle of my stick, pulling it tight before snapping it off with a tug. The locker room was quiet, most of the guys already out on the ice stretching for the evening skate. We had a rivalry match coming up against Chicago in two days, and as captain, I needed my head in the game. I couldn't afford a single distraction.

Then my phone vibrated against the wooden bench next to me.

I picked it up, seeing Rachelle’s name flash across the screen. I sighed, sliding my thumb across the glass to answer. "Hey, Rach. I'm just getting ready to head out for practice. Is everything okay?"

"No, it's not," Rachelle sobbed instantly, her voice sounding high, breathless, and frayed. "Brad, I went back to the hospital clinic this morning to pick up my prescription, and Tabitha was there with her friend. She cornered me in the lobby, Bradley. She caused this horrible scene in front of everyone, shouting at me and telling me I didn't belong near you. The security guards had to get involved. I was so terrified my heart was pounding out of my chest."

My jaw clenched, a wave of irritation washing over me. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, staring down at my skates. I didn't understand why Tabitha was acting out like this. She was usually so quiet, so collected. "Look, Rach, just try to breathe, okay? Don't let her get to you. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

"She’s just trying to ruin everything because she knows you're leaving her," Rachelle whimpered softly.

"I know," I murmured, my voice deep and tired. "Just stay at the apartment and rest. I promise you, everything will be over after tomorrow. We're meeting to handle the paperwork."

"Okay," she whispered, vulnerable. "I trust you, Brad."

I hung up the phone and tossed it back onto the bench. Moments later, the screen lit up again. It was a short, blunt text message from Tabitha.

"I'll sign the papers tomorrow."

I stared at the words, a strange, uncomfortable tightness twisting directly in my chest. I blinked, slightly caught off guard. She was agreeing? Just like that? Yesterday she was bleeding in an emergency room, looking shattered, and today she was just giving up without a fight. I had braced myself for weeks of bitter arguments, legal battles, and endless public drama. I couldn't fathom what had made her accept the end of our marriage so damn easily.

Before I could dwell on it, the locker room door pushed open and one of my media assistants stepped inside, holding a tablet with a tense look on his face.

"Captain," he said, stopping a few feet away from me. "We've got a situation with the front office. Several of our primary team sponsors are breathing down our necks. These recent tabloid rumors about you, Rachelle, and your wife are starting to affect the team's brand image. They want a public statement clarifying the situation immediately."

My protective hockey instincts flared instantly, my voice dropping into a hard, unyielding tone. "Tell them no statement. I want the public relations department to remain silent until the divorce is finalized. We don't say a single word to the press until the ink is dry on the legal paperwork. Understood?"

"Understood, Captain," the assistant said, nodding quickly before turning on his heel and exiting back to the offices.

The moment the door clicked shut, my eyes dropped back down to my phone. My thumb hovered right over Tabitha's contact name. My first, unfiltered instinct wasn't to think about the sponsors or the game. It was to text her. I wanted to ask her if she had arrived home safely after leaving the hospital yesterday. I wanted to know if her head injury was okay, or if she needed anything sent to the penthouse.

I stopped myself, my fingers freezing an inch above the screen.

I locked the phone and shoved it into my gym bag, forcing a breath through my teeth. I reminded myself that ending this marriage was the right thing to do. I had done my duty. I had honored my grandfather's final wish for three long years to secure my family's legacy and fortune. Now, I was a champion, my future was secure, and I had a right to be happy with the woman I actually chose. Tabitha would be fine. She was getting a payout.

The next morning arrived far too quickly.

I was sitting behind the desk in my private office when the door opened right at ten o'clock. Tabitha walked in. She looked different from the broken, pale girl I had seen in the hospital gown. She was wearing a simple, dark trench coat, her hair was pulled back neatly, and her face was blank. Her eyes were totally dead, staring right through me as if I were a stranger.

She didn't take a seat on the leather chairs. She didn't even acknowledge the coffee my assistant had set out. She walked straight up to my desk, her boots clicking softly against the hardwood floor.

Her very first request cut right through the quiet room. "I want to confirm the divorce settlement transfer is complete before I sign a single page."

I blinked, a bitter taste rising in my mouth at her cold, clinical tone. I immediately picked up the desk phone and speed-dialed my corporate lawyer. "Transfer the agreed divorce settlement funds to Tabitha’s private account right now. Make sure the confirmation goes through immediately."

I hung up, leaning back in my chair as I watched her check her phone a minute later. A faint chime signaled the arrival of the millions I had promised her. Seeing her stand there, demanding the cash before she would even touch the pen, convinced me of what Rachelle had been saying all along. Rachelle always warned me that Tabitha only stayed because of the Norwood fortune and the billionaire lifestyle. This just proved it. She was just looking for a payday to walk away.

Without saying a single word, Tabitha picked up the expensive silver pen from my desk. With a few swift, elegant movements of her wrist, she signed every single page of the legal documents, officially stripping away her title as my wife.

She set the pen down gently, her movements terrifyingly deliberate.

Then, she raised her left hand. Slowly, she slid the sparkling diamond wedding ring off her finger. The ring that had belonged to my grandmother, the ring I had placed on her finger three years ago in front of hundreds of guests. She reached across the polished wood of my desk and placed the band quietly right in the center of the dark mahogany.

"This belongs to you," Tabitha whispered, her voice smooth, without a single hint of emotion.

She turned around on her heel and began to walk away, her back straight and her posture perfectly dignified. She didn't look back. She didn't hesitate at the threshold. She just pushed the door open and vanished down the executive hallway, leaving me alone.

I sat frozen in my leather chair, my eyes glued to the silver ring resting under the bright office lights. The silence in the room became suffocating. For reasons I couldn't even begin to explain to myself, the air felt freezing cold, and the office suddenly felt unbearably empty.