All Chapters of Divorced by the Hockey Captain: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Tabitha's POVI didn't pause to gather my thoughts. I just pushed the wood door wide open, letting it swing back until it smacked against the wall with a resounding thud.The noise shattered the quiet room, and both of them froze instantly. Bradley turned his head first, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a glare the second his eyes landed on me. He didn't let go of Rachelle immediately. His hands lingered on her waist for a heartbeat, supporting her weight before he finally stepped back and cleared his throat."Tabitha?" Bradley asked, his voice dripping with disbelief and a hint of annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Why are you in this wing?"I stood there, my fingers digging into the fabric of my hospital gown just to keep my hands from shaking violently. My voice felt incredibly small, but the hurt bled through anyway. "I called you, Bradley. I called you, and you told me that unless someone was literally dying, it could wait."Before Bradley could even open his mout

Tabitha's POVThe tears came instantly, hot and blurring the tiny flickering speck on the monitor until it was nothing but a smear of white light. I couldn't stop them. My hands flew to my mouth, a muffled sob shaking my entire chest as I stared at the screen. It was a miracle, but it was a terrifying one.The doctor's hand stayed on the ultrasound wand, his face etched with deep professional concern as he looked from the screen back to me. "Mrs. Norwood, please try to take a deep breath. I need you to understand exactly what we are dealing with here. This pregnancy is officially considered extremely high-risk. The trauma from the crash left a pocket of fluid right next to the gestational sac, meaning the baby's attachment is incredibly weak.""What does that mean for her?" Ava asked, her voice cracking as she reached over to wipe a tear from my cheek."It means caution," the doctor explained, turning off the monitor and handing me a piece of tissue to wipe the cold gel from my stomac

Bradley's POVThree months had passed since the divorce papers were signed, and on paper, my life was exactly where it was supposed to be.The media was obsessed with us. Everywhere I turned, there was another magazine cover, another sports blog headline, or another entertainment segment celebrating hockey’s newest celebrity power couple. When Rachelle and I walked down the red carpet at the league's charity gala last weekend, the flashing cameras were blinding. She looked breathtaking in a designer emerald gown, smiling beautifully for the reporters while clinging tightly to my arm. The fans loved it. The front office loved it. The sponsors were thrilled that the tabloid drama had finally settled into a perfect, marketable romance.Yet, underneath the bright lights and the endless applause, a strange, suffocating restlessness had settled deep into my bones.I couldn't explain it. I was finally free from the arrangement my grandfather had shackled me with. I had the championship ring

Bradley’s POVI stood my ground, staring at the grey-haired doctor with what I hoped looked like complete composure. There had to be a misunderstanding here. A simple administrative delay, a glitch in the hospital's legal system."Look, doctor, I think there's been a mistake," I said, keeping my voice remarkably calm and even, taking a step closer to his desk. "The court paperwork isn't fully processed yet. Until the judge officially signs off on the final decree, Tabitha and I are still legally married. I am her husband. I have every right to know what is going on with her health."The doctor didn't flinch. He didn't blink or step back. He just stood there with his arms folded, staring at me with a steady, unyielding calm."The official notice from your legal representative was sent to our records department two hours ago, Mr. Norwood," the doctor said, his tone entirely level. "As far as this hospital is concerned, the marriage is dissolved, and Miss Dawson's privacy rights are full

Bradley’s POVI didn't even bother taking the residential elevator back upstairs to the penthouse. I turned sharply on my heel, my boots striking the concrete floor in a fast, relentless rhythm as I headed straight toward the building’s main security office.Someone in this building knew something. Someone had to have seen her load her things. Someone had to have helped her transport her suitcases out of the underground garage. A person didn't just pack up three years of her life and vanish without leaving a single trace on a camera feed.I pushed the door open without knocking, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet monitoring room.The head of security, an older guy named Miller who had worked in the high-rise for nearly a decade, immediately stood up from his leather chair. He had watched Tabitha and me come and go almost daily since the week we first moved into the penthouse together. He started to give me his usual friendly nod, but the second his eyes met mine, his entir