14
1006 Words
I stood in the dim light of the estate’s private study, the same room where Dad used to sign deals that shaped empires. Tonight, the only empire I cared about was the one I’d almost lost—my family.
The evidence was spread across the desk like a confession: bank statements showing payments from Samantha to a private investigator, forged security logs timestamped to make the gala photos look older than they were, emails between her and Lucy coordinating the “art program” lure at the park. Audio clips of Samantha bragging to a mutual contact about how she’d “handled the problem” years ago. Lucy’s signature on documents that claimed Markus’s will was signed under duress—documents that didn’t exist until after his death.
I’d spent weeks gathering it. Quietly. Through contacts in the business world and—more importantly—through the pack elders. Werewolves don’t take kindly to threats against pups, even if those pups are half-human and hidden. The council had been watching since Samantha first hinted at exposing our secret. They didn’t like blackmail. They liked even less when it targeted an alpha’s bloodline.
I sent the package at dawn: full dossier to the authorities in City Y, copies to the pack elders, and a personal note to the lead investigator. No drama. Just facts. Let them handle the arrests. Let the law and the council decide the consequences.
By evening, the news broke quietly at first—then loud. “Hudson Family Scandal: Fraud Allegations Against Ex-Fiancée and Widow.” Samantha was taken in for questioning. Lucy too. Their alliance had crumbled the moment the evidence landed on official desks. I didn’t gloat. I just felt… free.
For the first time in years, the cold armor I’d worn since childhood cracked wide open. No more hiding behind rationality. No more pretending emotions were weaknesses. I’d lost too much playing that game. Dad’s death, Amelia’s pain, seven years of my children’s lives—I wasn’t losing more.
I wanted them. All of them. And I was done waiting for permission to feel it.
The hockey game was that weekend—our home opener, sold-out arena, lights bright and crowd roaring. I played like I had something to prove. Every hit, every goal, every shift on the ice felt like reclaiming pieces of myself. We won 4-1. I scored the game-winner in the third period—hard slap shot from the blue line, puck screaming into the top corner. The building erupted.
I stayed on the ice after the final buzzer. Teammates slapped my back, but I waved them off. The Zamboni waited, but so did I.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, before we clear the ice… Captain Chase Hudson has a special request.”
The lights dimmed. Spotlights hit me in the center circle. I pulled the small velvet box from my pocket—simple platinum band, single emerald to match her eyes, engraved inside with the date we first met: the dinner where our hands brushed and the world shifted.
The crowd hushed. Cameras flashed.
I looked up to the family suite—reserved, private. Amelia stood at the glass, triplets pressed against her legs, eyes wide. Security had escorted them in earlier; she hadn’t known why.
I dropped to one knee on the ice.
“Amelia Clark,” my voice echoed through the arena speakers. “I spent too many years running from what I felt. From you. From us. I believed lies because they were easier than facing the truth: that you were always my mate. My home. My everything.”
The crowd murmured. Phones up, recording.
“I hurt you. I let you go. I missed the first seven years of our children’s lives. But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving again. Not without you. Not without them.”
I opened the box.
“Marry me. Let me be the father they deserve. The partner you’ve carried everything alone for too long. Let me love you the way I should have from the start. No more hiding. No more cold. Just us. Forever.”
Silence stretched—one heartbeat, two.
Then Jasmine squealed, clapping. Jaden grinned huge. Jamin looked at Amelia like he was waiting for her to say yes so he could breathe.
Amelia’s hand covered her mouth. Tears shone on her cheeks. She stepped toward the glass, then turned to the security guard. He opened the door. She walked out onto the tunnel, down the stairs, onto the ice in her boots and coat.
The crowd held its breath.
She stopped in front of me. Looked down at the ring, then at me—really looked. Saw the man who’d broken her heart and the one who’d spent every day since trying to fix it.
I stayed on my knee. Vulnerable. Open. No defenses left.
She whispered, barely audible over the arena hum.
“Can I trust you again?”
The question hung between us—raw, honest, the last wall she had left.
I met her eyes. No hesitation.
“I’ll spend every day earning it,” I said. “If you’ll let me.”
She stared for one more heartbeat.
Then she nodded—slow, certain.
“Yes.”
The arena exploded—cheers, whistles, flashes like lightning. I surged up, pulled her into my arms, kissed her deep and unashamed. The ring slid onto her finger. Perfect fit.
The triplets rushed the ice next—security letting them through. They crashed into us, laughing, hugging. Family. On the ice. Under the lights. Real.
For the first time, the cold inside me was gone. Only warmth. Only them.
But even as the crowd chanted our names, I knew the fight wasn’t over. Lucy and Samantha were cornered, but cornered animals bite hardest.
And Amelia’s whispered question lingered in my ear like a promise—and a warning.
Trust wasn’t given. It was built.
We had time now.
We had forever to prove it.
- Writer
