บททั้งหมดของ The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 119

The morning after our return from Vancouver, the quiet serenity of the mountain compound was a welcome contrast to the loud, chaotic energy of the arena. Snow had fallen steadily overnight, blanketing the pines in a fresh, thick layer of white. Inside the main study, the stone fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm golden light across the room. I sat at the wide mahogany desk in a soft, cream-colored cashmere sweater and warm leggings. At eight months and two weeks pregnant, getting comfortable was an ongoing negotiation, but the thick padded armchair provided plenty of support. My tablet rested on the desk in front of me, displaying a secure video link to our head legal counsel in Toronto and Geneva. Rhys walked into the room carrying a silver tray with fresh fruit, poached eggs, and a mug of warm herbal tea. He had already completed his morning workout, wearing a dark fitted shirt and sweatpants. As always, the moment his eyes landed on me, his posture softened completel

​The wind woke me at three in the morning.​It came howling off the high mountain peaks, rattling the heavy glass panes of our bedroom suite with violent force. Outside, the blizzard had turned into a whiteout. Snow swirled across the balcony in thick, blinding sheets, hiding the forest and the valley below in total darkness.​I shifted slowly under the heavy duvet, trying to find a position that took the pressure off my lower back.​Then the first real contraction hit.​It wasn't the dull ache I’d felt earlier in the week. It was a sharp, tight wave that started deep in my lower spine and rolled across my stomach, squeezing hard enough to catch the air in my throat. I gripped the edge of the mattress, focusing entirely on a slow, steady exhale through my nose.​Beside me, Rhys was awake before my second breath cleared.​"Sasha."​His voice was instantly clear, free of any sleep. He sat up, pushing the blanket aside, his large hands reaching out to steady my shoulders. He looked at my

Three weeks of paternity leave passed quickly at the mountain estate.During the day, Rhys handled his strength training in the home gym while keeping a close eye on three-week-old Leo. At night, he took the late feeding shifts without complaint, allowing me to catch up on sleep and oversee the remote operations of our European clinics.On a Tuesday morning, I was sitting at the dining room table reviewing our third-quarter financial reports when Rhys walked into the room carrying Leo. He wore a grey t-shirt and dark athletic shorts. He sat down in the chair next to mine, carefully holding Leo against his chest."Leo just finished his morning bottle," Rhys said, his voice calm and clear. "His weight is up to eight pounds two ounces.""Dr. Evans said his growth curve is right on track," I replied, setting my tablet aside. I reached over, touching our son's small hand. "How are you feeling about returning to practice tomorrow?""My knee is fine, my shoulder is strong, and my conditionin

The atmosphere inside the command office at the Vance-Keller Performance Center was tight and silent. Sunlight barely cut through the high tinted windows, casting long grey shadows across the wide glass conference table.It was seventy-two hours before Game 1 of the Western Conference Quarterfinals.I sat at the head of the table in a dark wool blazer, my tablet displaying a encrypted network map of every security badge swipe, equipment trunk lock-log, and digital key authorization recorded in the arena over the last forty-eight hours. Three-week-old Leo rested peacefully in his portable bassinet in the adjoining quiet lounge, guarded by two of our private security detail.Rhys stood near the glass wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore his black team tracksuit, his posture rigid and formidable. His dark grey eyes were fixed on the digital chalkboard where Lars was mapping out the forensic trail left behind by the compromised digital torque wrench."The clearance key used to a

The final horn sounded, and the stadium erupted into complete chaos.We won Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals by a score of 2-1 against Boston. The series was officially over, four games to two.On the ice, white towels, gloves, and sticks covered the surface near our net. The entire roster rushed off the bench, screaming and piling on top of Rhys in the left corner. I stood behind the glass near the bench, holding my tablet tightly against my chest as the coaching staff cheered around me. Lars walked over, shaking my hand with a rare, open smile."The series is sealed," Lars said over the deafening noise of the crowd. "No game seven. Everything is done.""Get the ice ready for the presentation," I told him, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. "We're going out there."Ten minutes later, the ice was cleared for the official awards ceremony. The ice crew rolled out the red carpet to center ice, where the NHL Commissioner stood beside two security guards guarding the trophies.The crowd qu