บททั้งหมดของ Accidentally Yours, Hockey Captain: บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

Emily’s POV The chapel doors opened, and the whole room went quiet. Not the soft, reverent hush of a wedding day — but a heavy, expectant silence, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what would break first. My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat, one heavy thud after another, matching the rhythm of my steps as I started down the aisle. Every eye was on me. Hundreds of faces — guests Will had invited, people from the hockey league, wealthy patrons from the gallery, strangers who’d come to watch the grand event of the season. None of them knew. Not one of them understood that this wasn’t a celebration. It was a transaction. And I was the final signature. My dress — soft ivory lace, delicate pearl buttons, the fabric flowing around my ankles like water — felt heavier than it should. Every step forward felt like a step further away from myself. Away from the girl who painted in her studio, who fell in love by accident, who got pregnant one quiet night and

Emily’s POVThe door clicked shut behind me, and the silence that rushed in was louder than any scream. I stood frozen for a heartbeat, hand still on the handle, the heavy fabric of my dress tangling around my ankles. The hallway was pitch black — the lights hadn't come back on yet — and I had no idea which way led to the stairwell Julian had spoken of.West stairwell. Third door down. I unlocked it. Go — now.I took a shaky breath and started forward, one hand brushing the cold stone wall to guide me. The lace of my dress caught on the rough edges, tearing softly, but I didn't stop. Every step felt like it took forever. My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I could hear it over my own breathing.First door. Second. Third.I turned the handle — it gave way easily. Julian had kept his word. I slipped inside and started up the stairs, my shoes clicking sharply against the metal steps, the sound echoing around me like someone following close behind. I kept my hand pressed to my stoma

Alex’s POVThe safe house sat tucked away at the end of a quiet street, nothing but a small brick cottage wrapped in ivy, warm light spilling through the kitchen windows. Kara pulled the door open before we even reached it, her face pale with worry, and stepped aside fast to let us in. No fanfare. No cheers. Just the quiet, heavy relief of having made it here alive.“Come in. Quick.” She locked the door behind us, throwing the deadbolt with a sharp, final click that echoed through the empty hallway. “I was starting to think… I don’t know what I was starting to think.”“We’re here,” I said, my voice rough from running. “We made it.”Pierre stood at the kitchen table, his laptop open, three screens glowing in the dim room. He looked up the moment we walked in — and his eyes went straight to Emily. To the torn hem of her dress, the smudged makeup, the exhaustion that seemed to weigh down every step. He stood slowly, pushing his chair back. “Sit. Both of you. We have coffee. Bread. Whatev

Alex’s POVThe house looked smaller than I remembered.I stood across the street, in the shadow of the oak tree I’d climbed as a kid, and stared at it. The same faded brick, the same chipped white porch step, the same mailbox leaning slightly to the left. It hadn’t changed. But everything inside it had. Everything about it had. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t coming home. I was coming to get the truth.It was late afternoon. The sky was that soft, bruised orange that settles over the suburbs right before dark. No one was outside. No cars passed. Just me, standing there, my hands clenched at my sides, my heart beating so hard it felt like it was pounding against my throat. I’d told Emily I needed to do this alone. She’d tried to argue — I saw it in her eyes, the fear, the worry — but she’d nodded and squeezed my hand. Be careful. Whatever he says… it doesn’t make it okay. But listen.I crossed the street. Walked up the cracked concrete path. Stood on the step where I’d wait

Alex’s POVThe knock came just after dawn — soft, deliberate, three quick raps against the door. Not urgent, not demanding. Just there.I was on my feet before anyone else had fully woken up, crossing the quiet living room in three long strides. Kara looked up from where she’d been sorting through printed statements, eyebrows raised. “Expecting someone?”“No.” I reached the door, but didn’t unlock it right away. “Stay back. All of you.”I peered through the small window beside the door — the porch was empty. No car, no figure waiting, nothing but the damp morning grass and the mist still clinging to the trees. On the step, sitting exactly in the center, wrapped in plain brown parcel paper and tied with thin twine, was a box. No label. No name. No return address. Just sitting there, like it had appeared out of the quiet itself.I unlocked the door and stepped outside, scanning the street, the tree line, the road leading up to the cottage. Nothing. Silence. Stillness. Whoever had left i