All Chapters of The Hockey billionaire's secret son : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

POV: JaceI stared at the message until the ice beneath my skates felt like it was tilting. You have no idea what is waiting for you in that classroom.The visit never happened. The PR coordinator called to tell me the foundation was pushing the whole thing back, citing a scheduling conflict. She mentioned, almost as an aside, that the request had come from my mother's office directly, not from the events team or the board. Victoria herself had made the call.That wasn't how she operated. My mother didn't reschedule photo ops over nothing. She'd been rattled ever since I brought up the reporters digging into old grant records, and now, with cameras about to walk her son straight into the one classroom connected to all of it, she'd found a reason to buy herself time instead.It made the anonymous text sit even worse in my chest. Whoever sent it clearly hadn't known the visit was about to get pulled—which meant they weren't inside the foundation, and probably not close to my mother's of

POV: DaisyStanding outside in the dim hallway light was Emma. She held a brown paper bag in one arm and a tall bottle of red wine gripped securely in her hand, grinning wide as she spotted the shadow behind the glass.I let out a quiet breath, turned the deadbolt, and pulled the door open."Are you going to let me in, or am I standing out here all night delivering medicine to the weary?" Emma asked with a bright, cheerful energy, stepping inside before slipping off her coat to hang it on the peg by the door."Emma," I breathed, a genuine smile finally breaking across my face as I locked the door behind her. "What are you doing here?""Saving you from your own brain," she said, marching straight into the kitchen and setting the wine bottle down next to the toaster. She pulled two large cardboard boxes of hot pepperoni pizza out of the paper bag. "Word got around about the rescheduled date today. I knew you were sitting here staring at the walls and torturing yourself.""I wasn't tortu

POV: DaisyThe phone kept ringing, demanding an answer.I picked it up on the fourth ring, my thumb hovering before I finally swiped to accept. "Hello?"Silence answered back—not dead air, but the particular quiet of someone on the other end who hadn't hung up. I could hear the faint rasp of breathing, unhurried, like whoever it was had all the time in the world to wait me out."Who is this?" I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.The line clicked dead.I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen until it dimmed on its own. No missed-call name. No saved contact. Just a string of digits that meant nothing to me and a silence that meant everything.My fingers felt stiff and cold as I stood there in silence for a moment to steady myself before I moved.I checked on Oliver one more time—still curled on his side, still safe, still asleep—and forced myself into bed, knowing I needed every hour of rest to keep my hands steady for my second-graders in the morning. Sl

POV: JaceThe SUV rolled to a smooth stop outside the brick entrance of Maple Grove Elementary School. Outside, the morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dry autumn leaves, cold pavement, and city exhaust fumes. I stared through the tinted glass window at the small group of reporters and photographers gathered behind the security ropes."Remember the talking points, Jace," the PR director whispered from the front seat, tapping a folder against his knee. "Focus on youth programs, sports funding, and the Kingston Global Foundation's commitment to education. Keep it light. Smile for the cameras."I nodded once, though my chest felt tight and hollow. I had delivered this exact speech in city after city across the country. I knew every word by heart."Got it," I said, my voice flat and emotionless.I reached for the door handle and pushed it open.The moment my boots hit the pavement, a wall of white light exploded in my face. Camera flashes popped like firecrackers, sharp and blind

POV: Jace"Mr. Kingston? Are we moving to the gymnasium now?"A sharp, impatient voice cut through my thoughts. I blinked, forcing my eyes away from the door at the back of the art class. The foundation representative tapped a pen against his clipboard, waiting for an answer."Yeah," I said, my voice sounding rough. "Let's go."I turned away, but my chest felt tight. I couldn't shake the sight of her. It wasn't just her face—though seeing it again had sent a cold shock straight through me. It was her posture. The way she held her shoulders straight and stiff, like she was bracing for a hit. And her hands. I remembered how those fingers had moved over sketchbooks years ago, and seeing them trembling in the air between us just now made my mind completely stall.We walked out of the classroom, down the stairs, and along the bright hallway of Maple Grove Elementary. Colorful paper pumpkins and finger-paintings lined the walls, and children's laughter echoed from down the corridor. But my