All Chapters of Frozen Submission (M*M)Romance: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

**Chapter 174: Return to Ice**The empty rink felt different this time.No syndicate cameras. No armed guards at the exits. No link pulsing between us like a live wire. Just the low hum of the refrigeration system, the scent of fresh ice, and Callan watching me with dark, hungry eyes as we laced up our skates in the middle of the deserted facility.It was still our first anniversary. The surprise trip had already been perfect—slow skating, laughter, quiet conversations about the future. But we both knew we weren’t finished here. Some things needed to be reclaimed.Callan stood first, towering over me in his black thermal shirt and sweatpants. The same kind of clothes he’d worn during those early, charged sessions when the syndicate had forced us together. He offered me his hand.“Come here, Brooks.”The command in his voice sent heat straight through me. I took his hand and let him pull me onto the ice.We skated one slow lap first, hands linked, breathing in sync. Then he let go and

**Chapter 176: Rejection**The rejection letter arrived in the mail three days later, formal and clinical, like it hadn’t just shattered the future we’d started daring to imagine. I read it twice at the kitchen island while Callan watched me from across the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest.*...regret to inform you that after careful review, the agency has determined that placement with your household would not be in the best interest of a child at this time. Factors considered include the high level of ongoing public scrutiny, documented neurological health concerns, and the complex history surrounding your relationship...*I set the paper down carefully, as if it might bite me.Callan crossed the room in three strides and pulled me against him. No words at first—just his arms locked around me, one hand firm on the back of my neck. I buried my face in his chest and let the wave crash over me.It hurt more than I expected. Deeper. Like someone had looked at the worst parts of

**Chapter 177: Documentary**We said yes to the documentary.After three long conversations, multiple meetings with our lawyers, and one very intense night where Callan held me through an anxiety spiral, we decided the potential good outweighed the risk. Our story—raw, messy, and real—might help someone else. Might prevent another player from walking the same path we had.Horizon Media moved fast. Elena Vasquez, the director, was a sharp, compassionate woman in her forties who promised to treat our story with dignity. Filming began three weeks after we signed the contracts.The first few days were relatively gentle. They interviewed us separately and together in our apartment, soft lighting, comfortable chairs. Callan sat with his hand on my knee during the joint sessions, thumb stroking in slow, grounding circles. The crew was respectful, professional.But as the days turned into weeks, the questions dug deeper.They wanted everything.The first time the syndicate approached me. The

**Chapter 179: Approved**The official approval letter arrived exactly eleven days after the agency reversed their initial decision.I was in the kitchen making coffee—slowly, carefully, the way Callan preferred when my hands were still a little shaky from the latest medication adjustment—when the courier knocked. Callan signed for the envelope, then stood frozen in the doorway holding it like it might disappear.We opened it together on the couch.*Dear Mr. Brooks and Mr. Kane,**We are pleased to inform you that your adoption application has been fully approved...*I didn’t read the rest. I just dropped the letter and threw myself at Callan. He caught me, laughing and crying at the same time, lifting me clean off the ground as he spun us in a clumsy circle. When he set me down, his hands framed my face, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling.“We’re going to be fathers,” he whispered, voice cracking.“Yeah,” I laughed through my own tears. “We are.”That night we

**Chapter 181: Good Father**Callan’s panic attack happened on the twenty-third day in the NICU.Lily had been doing well—gaining weight, maintaining her temperature, showing more alertness during care times. We’d started to believe we might actually bring her home soon. Then, during an afternoon feeding, her oxygen levels dipped again. The monitors screamed. Nurses moved quickly. It wasn’t a crisis, just another preemie hurdle, but something in Callan snapped.I found him in the family lounge ten minutes later, hunched over in a plastic chair, breathing too fast, hands clenched into fists on his knees. His face was ashen, eyes wide with terror.“Callan?”He looked up at me and the dam broke.“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I’m going to fuck her up. Just like my father fucked me up. I have this... this need to control things. To protect. What if I smother her? What if I push her too hard like your dad pushed you? What if my injury, my past, my—” His voice cracked. “What if I’m not enou