His Father Bought Me Chapter 1: The Day She Fell

Estelle had spent twenty years mastering the ice, but took one second for it to betray her.

The sound her knee made when it twisted against the ice was hollow. Not loud, not the cinematic shatter people imagined. Just a sharp, ugly crack beneath her blade.

Just a wrong shift in weight, a tiny miscalculation, and then gravity claid what it had always been owed.

High above the rink, in the private VIP box, soone was already watching, phone already in hand, contract already drafted.

The fall hadn’t been an accident. It had been an opportunity. And when she fell, she fell hard.

Her chin struck first, then her hip, and finally the back of her head slamd against the ice with a hollow thud that echoed faintly through the arena speakers.

For half a second, the arena went silent. Ten thousand people inhaled at once.

Then the screaming began.

She couldn’t feel her legs. The stadium lights burned white above her, blinding and rciless. Her breath fogged weakly in the freezing air.

She tried to move. Tried to sit up.

Nothing.

Her body had always obeyed her. It had been her weapon through years of discipline and control. Now it lay there like a stranger.

"Estelle!" soone shouted.

Her coach’s skates scraped frantically across the rink and dics rushed in from the sidelines.

The music cut off mid-swell as the giant screen overhead froze on her body, twisted at the wrong angle.

The comntators didn’t realize their microphones were still live.

"Oh, God. That’s bad."

"That might be career-ending."

Career-ending. The words skidded across the ice and lodged sowhere deep in her ribs.

She blinked at the ceiling and tried to command her legs again. Move. Move. Nothing.

The pain arrived late. Not sharp, but deep and spreading through her body like ink in water.

As they strapped her to the board, she turned her head slightly toward the VIP section. Her mother was already on her feet. Not crying, not panicking. Talking. Her phone was pressed to her ear.

And even from the ice, Estelle could see the calculation in her mother’s eyes.

—

The hospital room slled of antiseptic, strong and sterile, and the machines beside her bed beeped too loudly in the quiet.

The door opened before Estelle could make her legs move. They hadn’t moved in an hour and she knew they wouldn’t move now.

Victoria, her mother, walked in wearing heels that cost more than the monthly rent of their first apartnt. She didn’t hug her or even touch her. She just closed the door carefully behind her.

"Well," she said, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her blazer. "The doctor has confird it." Her tone was businesslike.

Estelle swallowed. "Confird what?"

Her mother’s gaze dropped briefly to the motionless legs beneath the sheet. "Spinal trauma. They’re using the word paralysis. Temporarily, they claim. But they don’t sound confident."

Estelle stared at the ceiling. "But I can rehab," she said quickly. "I’ll train. I’ll co back. People have co back from worse."

Her mother didn’t respond. Instead, she opened her leather folder and pulled out papers, contracts. Even in the hospital.

"What are those?" Estelle’s throat felt dry.

"Sponsors," Victoria said.

Estelle’s throat closed. She knew what ca next.

"They’re invoking the injury clause."

Her fingers went numb. "All of them?"

"Every single one." Victoria’s voice was flat. "You are no longer a profitable investnt."

The room tilted as realization settled in.

Not all of them. They couldn’t all be leaving.

"I just fell," Estelle managed.

"You didn’t just fall, Estelle." Victoria’s voice sharpened. "You lost."

The air in the room seed to thin.

Victoria continued coldly. "We poured everything into you. Private coaches, international competitions, dia training, to say the least. Do you think that money ca from thin air?"

Estelle turned her head toward her slowly. "I won dals."

"dals?" Victoria scoffed, shaking her head. "dals don’t matter if you can’t stand."

The words hit harder than the ice had.

Her chest rose too fast. "I will stand again."

Her mother’s eyes flickered. Not with encouragent, with assessnt. "As of this morning," she continued. "We are in debt."

The word felt heavier than the paralysis verdict.

Estelle gasped. "What?"

Victoria wasn’t moved. "The training facilities weren’t free. The sponsorship ad privileges have to be returned if you fail to fulfill the contract. And now..." She gestured vaguely toward Estelle’s legs. "You have failed."

Estelle’s fingers curled into the sheet. "You’re talking about like a broken machine."

Victoria didn’t deny it.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. A nurse entered, smiling sympathetically. "Visiting hours are almost over," she said gently.

Estelle opened her mouth. She wanted to ask for help, to tell soone, to be rescued from the nightmare.

But Victoria’s smile switched on instantly, polished and perfect. "Of course. Thank you."

The nurse left and her smile vanished.

She stepped closer to the bed. "I need you to understand sothing," she said quietly. "We cannot afford dead weight."

Dead weight. The words hung in the sterile air.

Estelle stared at her. The sa woman who had braided her hair before competitions, the one who had driven her to 5 a.m. practices, standing there like she was at an auction.

"You’re my mother..."

"And I have sacrificed everything for you." Victoria’s expression didn’t change, if anything, her eyes hardened. "If you cannot compete, then you have to compensate."

The words slithered into the room.

Estelle’s heart thudded louder than the monitors. "What does that an?"

Victoria hesitated, just long enough to show she had already decided. "There are alternatives."

Estelle felt cold crawl up her spine. "What alternatives?"

Victoria didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, she pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward her.

Subject line: Private Arrangent.

"What is that?" Estelle’s voice cracked.

"An opportunity," her mother said.

Estelle’s brows furrowed. "Opportunity for what?"

"For survival," Victoria replied.

Estelle’s pulse quickened. "You’re not making sense."

Victoria leaned closer. "There are n who value certain things," she said softly.

Estelle’s stomach twisted, a cold knot of dread tightening with every word. "What things, Mother?"

Victoria didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, she reached out, her cold fingers catching Estelle’s chin and tilting her face toward the harsh hospital light. She studied her daughter’s features with the detached gaze of an auctioneer.

"The things that don’t require a pair of skates," Victoria said smoothly. "Beauty, poise, breeding... Attributes that don’t break just because a bone does."

Sothing cracked inside Estelle’s chest as she looked at her mother. "No..."

"Yes, my darling. You are still beautiful, still refined, and now..." Her eyes flicked down again. "You are vulnerable. That still has value in certain circles, but we need to move fast."

Estelle scoffed, moving her face from her mother’s hold. "You’re joking."

Victoria didn’t smile. "I never joke about money," she said calmly. "A very powerful man is looking for a wife for his son. And he’s willing to pay off every cent of our debt to buy you."