Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pucking Forbidden Claim: Kabanata 131 - Kabanata 140

Kade POVThe moment the words leave my mouth, the room explodes. Reporters are shouting over each other, cameras flashing wildly, all of them desperate to get the next piece of the story. My jaw clenches as I glance toward Rook, who’s sitting there looking way too pleased with himself.This was not how I wanted this to go.The moderator tries to calm everyone down, raising his hands. “One at a time, please,” he says, motioning toward another reporter.A man in a dark suit leans forward, his expression sharp. “So, just to be clear, are you saying this was a relationship during the time the pictures were taken, or is this still ongoing?”I shift slightly, glancing at Rook. His smirk hasn’t dropped, but there’s something in his eyes, something unreadable. This is the moment where we’re supposed to stick to the script, where we say it was casual, something that was but no longer is.But we both know that’s a fucking lie.“It’s ongoing,” I say, feeling the weight of it as soon as I say it.

Rook’s POVI thought he’d be fine. I figured he’d just go back to whatever he did before I came into his life, the same way he always did when we weren’t in each other’s orbit. But the more time I’ve spent with him today, the more I realize he’s completely unraveling.The cameras, the news, all of them will assume he’s stressed because he suddenly has a baby in his care. That’s what they’ll focus on. The poor, overwhelmed hockey star juggling an unexpected responsibility. But that’s not the real story, is it?He’s a fucking mess.He hasn’t been sleeping. He hasn’t stopped drinking. He’s so far past the point of exhaustion that his body is barely keeping up. And worst of all? He literally just admitted he considered quitting.Giving up hockey?Kade Mercer would never say that if he was in his right mind.All I can do is sit here and watch him, taking in the wreckage of what’s left of him. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t look at me. He just sits there, body heavy with exhaustion or maybe i

Kade’s POVWaking up feels like slamming into a brick wall.Everything is heavy, my body, my head, even the air around me. My limbs are stiff, weighed down like I’ve been out for days. My mouth is dry as hell, my tongue thick and useless, and when I force my eyes open, everything feels too damn bright.What the fuck?I groan, pressing my hand to my forehead as I try to sit up, but the second I do, my entire body protests. A sharp ache digs into my skull, my stomach twisting in on itself. It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into my bones, dragging at every muscle like I just got out of a game that went into three fucking overtimes.How long have I been out? How the fuck did I get here? I blink hard, trying to clear the fog in my brain, and then it hits me.My drinking, amelia showing up, her leaving the baby, then me taking her to the press conference.Everything crashes down at once, and suddenly, I’m sitting up way too fast, my head spinning so violently that I have to grip the bl

Rook POVI keep the tone light, cracking jokes, throwing smirks, anything to keep Mercer from completely losing his shit. He’s already on the edge, and if he spirals any further, he’ll drown himself in guilt, frustration, and that stubborn need to fix everything when he can’t.The baby shifts in my arms, fussing slightly, and I adjust my hold, rocking her gently. It’s weird, but she settles almost instantly, like she already knows I’m better at this than Mercer. Not that it’s a high fucking bar.Mercer glares at his phone, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. He hasn’t said a word since the last call with his mom, but the tension radiating off him is thick enough to choke on.“Don’t blame your mother,” my father’s voice cuts through the silence.I glance up to see him walking into the room, his expression unreadable.“What? It’s her grandchild!” Mercer snaps, frustration clear in every word.“She’s been living in hell, Mercer,” my father replies evenly. “She’s almost free of it. All her kids a

Kade POVYesterday was a disaster. The kind of day that leaves you feeling like you’ve been run over by a damn truck, then backed over just to make sure the job was done. We’ve been calling her baby, just baby, but Nikolai found a note in her bag, something with her name on it. Harlow. That’s what Amelia called her. It feels strange, knowing now, putting a name to the tiny thing that spent the entire night screaming her lungs out.Why the fuck do babies need to eat so much? They’re tiny, fragile little things, you’d think one bottle would be enough to last at least eight hours, but no. Every three hours, like a goddamn alarm clock from hell, she was wailing, demanding food like she hadn’t just been fed. I don’t know how the hell people do this every day and survive.I’ve been in and out of the office at least ten times today, trying to get a word in with Nikolai, trying to get any update on Amelia. Just something. But she’s gone south—that’s all I’ve got so far. My mother? Yeah, she’s