All Chapters of Ice King Obsession : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The city outside was quiet, a lull that made the apartment feel both intimate and fragile. Rain still traced its patterns along the windows, tapping lightly against the glass as though marking the rhythm of the night. Inside, Sheila sat on the edge of the couch, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the room. Her thoughts were tangled, restless, replaying the events of the day—the press conference, the confrontation with Carter, and the stolen moments with Atticus.He stood near the window, coat removed, sleeves rolled up, hands resting lightly on the sill. For a while, they just looked at each other, words unnecessary. Every glance carried weight. Every heartbeat seemed synchronized with the other. The tension between them was no longer just frustration or defiance—it was a slow burn, a pull that had been building for weeks, demanding release.Finally, he turned, stepping closer with deliberate caution. His eyes darkened, taking in every detail of her expression, ever

The day started with the kind of quiet that felt more like a warning than a relief. Sheila woke to the low hum of traffic outside her window, the city alive but unaware of the storm brewing in her life. She moved methodically through her morning routine, every gesture precise, controlled, as if she could armor herself against the uncertainty that awaited. Her mind, however, refused such order.The envelope from last night lay on the kitchen counter. She had avoided opening it until now, waiting until she could focus, waiting until she could prepare herself mentally for whatever Carter had planned. With a deep breath, she unfolded the note, reading it again carefully:“Prepare yourself. Tonight changes everything.”The words pressed into her chest like a weight she couldn’t lift. She traced the letters with her fingertip, feeling the cold ink through the thin paper. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a declaration, an announcement that Carter intended to manipulate events, force outcomes,

The hotel lobby was nearly empty, the late-night hum of air conditioning and distant traffic the only sounds punctuating the quiet. Sheila clutched her folder tightly, the crisp papers inside a reminder of the press statements she had prepared, the careful wording that might shield her from Carter’s next move. Each step toward the elevator felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of anticipation pressed against her chest.Atticus trailed slightly behind, quiet, his presence both comforting and unnerving. Every so often, her gaze flicked to him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched when he believed she wasn’t looking. He was watching, always alert, as if he could sense the currents of manipulation that Carter had set in motion.They reached the elevator, the doors sliding open with a soft chime. She stepped inside first, then Atticus, the confined space amplifying the electric tension between them.“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly, voice low,

The apartment was quieter than usual when Sheila closed the door behind her, but the stillness was deceptive. The tension between her and Atticus had been simmering all day, and the ride back had done nothing to diffuse it. She tossed her coat onto the nearest chair and sank onto the edge of the couch, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.Atticus leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her with that unreadable expression she both feared and craved. His jaw was set, hands gripping the granite countertop so tightly the knuckles whitened. The air felt heavy, charged, as if the room itself was bracing for the storm about to break.“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Sheila finally demanded, her voice trembling slightly, but sharp with accusation.Atticus’s eyes flicked toward her, calm but piercing. “Tell you what?”“That Carter is still moving, still targeting me,” she snapped. “You knew. You knew and you let me go in there thinking I was prepared. You…” Her voice faltered, frust

The arena roared with energy, the familiar rhythm of skates carving the ice under bright lights, the echoing clang of pucks against boards, the collective shouts of fans fueling the atmosphere. Sheila stood at the edge of the rink, clipboard in hand, observing with the meticulous focus that had made her indispensable. Her eyes tracked every movement, every stride, every subtle shift in posture, her mind calculating, analyzing. But even in this familiar environment, the air felt tense, electric.Atticus Finch was in the middle of it all, moving with a controlled aggression that made the crowd cheer and the other players scramble to keep pace. He was perfection in motion, his presence commanding every inch of ice he touched. Sheila’s chest tightened as she watched him, the pull of admiration mixed with the residue of their last night lingering in her thoughts.Then it happened—a sharp, sudden crash that sent a player skidding hard across the ice. Gasps erupted, whistles blew, and chaos