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She offered a small smile. “It’ll be several hours before he’s out of surgery, and even then, he’ll be under observation for a while. He’s going to need time to heal.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I swallowed back tears. “Can I wait somewhere? I need to be close.”

The nurse gestured down the hall. “He’ll be moved to recovery in Room 324 once he’s out of surgery. You’re welcome to wait there.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely managing to get the words out before turning toward the hallway she’d indicated. Each step felt heavier than the last as I walked, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I had to see him. Even if he wouldn’t wake for hours, even if he was hooked up to every machine imaginable, I had to be there when he opened his eyes.

I’d been too in my head to even see the person who stepped in my way, blocking my path. “Ms. Contreras,” Vincent Langley said smoothly, as though this were some casual meeting and not a nightmare. His expression was as polished and detached as ever, but his eyes showed an unmistakable gleam of malice.

I squared my shoulders. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Make time,” he snapped. “Dalton’s surgery will take hours. You’re not doing him any good by pacing the halls like a panicked child.”

I flinched but didn’t move. “I don’t have any interest in speaking with you.”

“Oh, I think you’ll want to hear this.” He reached into his tailored jacket and produced a folded sheet of paper, handing it to me.

“Open it,” he barked when I continued to glare at him.

I did, and found a trade agreement from the San Jose Stars.

“What is this?” I demanded, even though the bile in my throat already told me.

“Your new life, Ms. Contreras. The Stars were very happy to hear you were available, turns out they’ve been trying to get you to work for them for a while.” He sounded so fucking smug I wanted to scream, or hit him. “If you truly love Dalton, and I question whether you do, you’ll take this opportunity. You’ll leave quietly. No goodbye, no lingering mess. Just sign the dotted line, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life.”

Coaching trades were rare, but they did happen—especially if your boyfriend’s asshole father wanted to get rid of you.

My chest burned, a mix of anger and anguish. “You want me to leave him now? While he’s in surgery? You think I’d do that to him?”

“If you cared about him, yes,” he said, sighing when my only reaction was to glare at him. “This was already in the works, Ms. Contreras. You were never getting on a plane back to Dallas with the team. The accident just underlines that you’re not good for him. Dalton has a future ahead of him. A legacy to carry. But he can’t focus on that with you around. Your career aspirations and your presence are distractions he can’t afford. Tonight was proof of that.”

His words sliced deep, but I refused to let him see me falter. “You have no idea what’s best for him.”

Vincent’s lip curled. “I see what you’ve done to him. This injury? He was reckless, because of you. He wasn’t focused, because of you. Don’t pretend you don’t see it. If you walk away, you’ll give him the chance to get back on track. To be the player he’s destined to be.”

I shook my head, my voice low and trembling. “Dalton is more than a hockey player. And he doesn’t need you deciding what’s best for him.”

His eyes hardened. “I tried to be reasonable. But if you won’t take the offer, then I’ll fire you. Effective immediately.”

I crossed my arms, defiance rising even though my stomach churned. “Fine. Fire me. I know my worth—I can always find a spot on another team. Dalton’s worth more than this.”

Vincent smirked, like he’d been waiting for that response. “Is he worth his friends’ careers too?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” His tone was venomous now. “If you don’t sign this and leave quietly, I’ll go through with the trades I’ve already arranged for Jimenez and Monroe. They’ll be gone by the end of the week. Dalton will lose the teammates who’ve stood by him for years, and it’ll all be because of you.”

The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. He was bluffing. He had to be. But the glint in his eye said otherwise. The weight of the paper in my hand felt unbearable.

“You would do that to your own son?”

“I would do what’s necessary for my legacy,” he said coldly. “Now, Ms. Contreras. What’s it going to be?”

My mind raced. My heart screamed to refuse, to stand firm, to protect Dalton in the way he deserved. But the thought of taking away the people he leaned on most, the friendships that kept him grounded?

I couldn’t. Not when he was already facing so much.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’ll sign it.”