บททั้งหมดของ The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The interior of the Miller library was configured with dark wood shelving that rose twenty feet to a vaulted ceiling. A single digital fire terminal glowed in the hearth, casting flat shadows across the leather chairs and the large oak desk at the center of the room.​Thomas Miller did not stand up when we entered. He sat behind his desk, his gold-headed cane resting against his knee. His face was older than Arthur Kendrick’s, but it carried the same cold, analytical expression of a man who managed a billion-dollar sports empire.​"You look like your mother, Sasha," Thomas said, his voice flat and empty of any familial warmth. He did not look at me for more than a second. His eyes shifted immediately to Rhys, scanning his frame, tracking the stability of his right knee as Rhys walked across the room. "And you look like a liability, Keller. The federal marshal’s office issued a tracking order for your cell phone ten minutes ago."​"The phones are disabled, Mr. Miller," I said, stepping

The red emergency lights cast long, rhythmic shadows across the concrete walls of the basement corridor. The high-pitched whine of the facility’s secondary containment alarm began to sound from the stairwell.​Containment Protocol Active. Sector 4 Locked.​Rhys did not let go of my waist. He pulled me closer to his side, his massive frame shielding my body as he looked at the steel fire doors that had just sealed the exit.​"The manual release valve for the containment doors is located in the main breaker room," Rhys said, his voice flat and perfectly calm. He did not show any panic. "Marcus didn't trigger the precinct alarm. He used a local bypass from his phone to lock the sector."​Marcus sat on the concrete floor, his back against the wall. A low, bitter laugh escaped his lips as he looked up at us. "The containment protocol requires an administrative signature from the Chief of Police to override, Keller. You are trapped in this basement with a stolen evidence drive. When the mor

Every eye in the courtroom remained fixed on my face as the digital timestamp on the monitor glowed with a cold, blue light.​Signature Status: Verified. Authorizing IP: Miller Corp Mainframe, Chicago.​"Miss Miller," Judge Stone said, her voice dropping into a firm, warning register. "I will ask you once more for the record. Is this your certified digital signature, and did you authorize this medical waiver?"​Beside me, Rhys’s hand did not loosen its grip on mine. His palm was warm, his fingers squeezing my hand with an intense, steady pressure that kept my frame anchored. He did not look at the monitor, and he did not look at our attorneys. He looked only at me, his dark eyes filled with a fierce, absolute trust that made the boundaries of our old agreement disappear.​"The signature is certified, Your Honor," I said, keeping my voice flat, calm, and perfectly clear. "But the authorization code was not generated by my personal encryption key. It was generated using a master recover

The main entrance of the Seattle Kraken training facility was quiet when we arrived at eleven-thirty that night. The heavy glass doors were locked, but my administrative pass was active again, the security scanner displaying a steady green light as we entered the lobby.​We walked down the long, concrete corridor toward the executive wing. Our footsteps made no sound against the rubber floor runner.​Lars Vance sat behind his large mahogany desk, his office illuminated by a single desk lamp. He did not look surprised when we pushed open the door. He held a digital tablet in his left hand, his eyes scanning the court clearance document that had been uploaded to his portal.​"Your attorney registered the federal court order with the league office at eight o'clock, Rhys," Lars said, setting the tablet down. "The corporate espionage warrant is officially purged from your record. The league compliance director, Hayes, was suspended pending an internal investigation into Arthur’s transactio

The conference room of the Seattle Kraken facility was dark, the only light coming from the three massive digital screens on the wall.​Lars Vance sat at the end of the table, his fingers tapping against his digital pad. Beside him, I sat with my tablet connected to the room’s secure server. Rhys stood behind my chair, his large hand resting flat on my shoulder, his grip firm and grounding.​The screens flickered, the video connection establishing with the Chicago office.​Arthur Kendrick’s face appeared on the central screen. He sat in his mahogany library, his gold cane resting against his desk, his face a hard, cold mask. On the left screen, the legal representatives of the league board of directors appeared, their expressions serious and formal.​"This meeting is a violation of protocol, Lars," Arthur said, his voice flat and empty of any warmth. "Rhys Keller is under a temporary conservatorship order. His contract cannot be negotiated or altered without my signature."​"The conse