All Chapters of The Hockey Star Wants Me Back: His Secret twins: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

[LAURETTA POV]"Lauretta, if you stare at those financial spreadsheets any longer, your eyes are going to permanently turn into dollar signs."I blinked awake, the morning light pouring harshly through the kitchen window. I had drifted off directly over my laptop. Standing over me was Aunt Beatrice, her arms crossed, her sharp, practical eyes taking in the dark circles bruising the skin beneath my eyes."Aunt Bea," I mumbled, rubbing my face. "What time is it?""Time for you to drink this," she said bluntly, setting a steaming mug of black coffee right next to my keyboard. She looked at the twins, who were already dressed for school, cleanly eating their oatmeal at the counter. "I took care of the kids' uniforms. You look like you've been run over by a team of Zambonis."I sigh!"The hospital called yesterday," I whispered, keeping my voice low so the children wouldn't hear. "They're shifting Mom to an advanced care track. The monthly baseline is doubling."Beatrice’s practical expre

[LAURETTA POV] "Ryan, if you put that entire spoonful of frosted flakes into your mouth at once, you're going to choke," I said, leaning over the kitchen counter to pour a glass of orange juice. "I'm training my jaw muscles, Mommy," Ryan mumbled around a full cheek, his small brows furrowing with intense gravity. "Like a real defenseman. Mason said hockey players need to be tough." "Mason is a wing, and you are six," Aunt Beatrice countered bluntly, stepping into the kitchen and deftly swapping his sugar cereal for a plate of scrambled eggs. She looked down at Raynell, who was completely ignoring her toast, entirely absorbed in humming a quiet tune while using a purple crayon to draw elaborate swirls on the edge of a paper napkin. "Rayie, eat. The movie star is going to be here in ten minutes, and he doesn't look like the type to wait around for slow noon-eaters." "Uncle Martin always waits for us," Raynell said smoothly, not looking up from her masterpiece. "He likes my drawings

[LAURETTA POV] The front door didn't just open; it busted open, both children happily running inside. "Mommy! Close your eyes right now!" Ryan shouted, his little boots skidding across the linoleum as he practically threw himself into the living room, his small face flushed with absolute sincerity. "No cheating, Mom! Keep them tight!" Raynell squealed right behind him, her arms wrapped fiercely around a large, white-ribboned boutique box as she scrambled toward the kitchen counter. The quiet apartment was instantly flooded with chaotic, vibrant life. Aunt Bea poked her head out from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over her shoulder and an amused brow raised high. Martin walked in last, his cap slightly crooked, his mask pulled down to his chin, and three heavy shopping bags dangling from his arms. He wore the distinct, exhausted expression of a man who had spent six grueling hours attempting to outmaneuver the boundless energy of two six-year-olds. "Alright, alright, eyes are clo

[LAURETTA POV] By 6:30 PM, the strategy deck was nearly finalized, but the physical files Marcus had left us were a disaster. Aaron was shifting through an old archival folder from the franchise’s junior media vault, looking for old promotional layouts. "Wait," I said, squinting at a glossy print he had just pulled from the bottom of the stack. "Is that...?" Aaron immediately tried to shove the photo back into the folder, his ears turning a distinct shade of dark crimson. "It's nothing. It's an outdated layout." "Aaron, give it here," I laughed, a genuine, unforced sound escaping my throat as I reached across the table and snatched the photo from his fingers. It was a promotional shot from his rookie year draft selection. He was nineteen years old, standing awkwardly in a jersey that was three sizes too big for his lean frame, but the absolute highlight was his hair. A wild, completely unstyled, shaggy mop that looked like it had never encountered a comb. "Don't," Aaron gro

[LAURETTA POV] The glowing text from Lincoln Elementary swam before my eyes, the words ‘accurately stated the children’s full legal names and dates of birth’ burning into my retina. My hands began to shake violently. The office around me blurred. He wasn't just staying hidden anymore. He wasn't just dropping photographs under my apartment door. Rogers was actively, physically hunting my children. He had stood in their school. He had walked right up to the desk. A choked, ragged breath escaped my throat. I didn't think. I grabbed my car keys off the blotter. I didn't shut down my laptop. I didn't check the media schedule or even sending a message to Marcus. I didn't care about the Velocity contract, the multi-million dollar campaign, or the career I had bleedingly rebuilt from nothing. If I lost my children, none of it mattered anyway. I bolted out of my office, my heels slamming against the polished floorboards of the executive suite, leaving the everything behind without a single