His Father Bought Me Chapter 3: Sign The Papers

Estelle’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her chest felt like it had been caged. The decision weighed more than any dal, more than any fall. And sohow, more than her own broken body.

She closed her eyes. The ice cracked beneath her mind’s feet. This is the mont it all changes. Or ends.

Her fingers brushed the embossed seal on the folder. "And what does a man like Mr. Whitehall want with a broken skater?"

"He doesn’t want a skater," Victoria interrupted, her voice sharp with a desperate kind of greed. "He wants to make you a Whitehall."

Estelle’s heart hamred against her ribs, making the monitor beep in a frantic, telltale rhythm. "He wants to marry ?! He’s sixty years old!"

Vance offered a thin, mirthless smile. "Mr. Whitehall is not looking for a wife. Not for himself at least."

Estelle frowned, her breath hitching. "I don’t understand."

"His son," Vance clarified, leaning in. "Roman Whitehall. I believe you already know much about him. His reputation—"

"No!" Estelle cut him short. Her hand shot toward the call button. Her fingers found it. She pressed it, but nothing happened. She pressed again, harder this ti, her heart hamring against her ribs.

Victoria moved to stop her, but Vance raised a hand to her, stopping her. The nursing station down the hall was empty, he had made sure of it.

"I would advise you to save your strength." His smile didn’t waver as he looked at Estelle, his gaze almost mocking. "The nursing staff has been inford you’re in a private consultation, so that has been disabled."

Estelle’s fingers froze on the button, then it slowly fell back to her side. "Why ?" she breathed, her shoulders sagging, but no one answered.

The image of Roman Whitehall flashed in her mind anyway. Violent, bloodied on the ice, beautiful in a way that scread danger.

"The NHL’s Greatest Mistake," Vance continued, his voice cutting through her thoughts, as if she hadn’t just tried to call for help or asked why she was chosen. "A man with too much talent and absolutely no leash."

He was her opposite in every way. She was the epito of discipline. He was the definition of riot. And the worst part was that they were going to chain her to him.

What were they hoping for? That she could ta him? Laughable... or maybe not.

"Magnus requires a stabilizer," Vance continued. "A wife who cannot run. A woman whose ability to walk depends entirely on his signature. A woman whose life is secured by her obedience."

The room tilted, and the air left Estelle’s lungs in a wheeze. "He wants a hostage," she breathed.

"He wants insurance," Vance corrected. "He puts the Whitehall ring on your finger. He pays for the surgeons to fix your spine. In exchange, you beco the one thing Roman cannot ignore. You beco his shadow, his handler, his wife."

Vance leaned closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Clause 14, Miss Rutledge. If you leave the house without permission, the funding for your physical therapy stops. If you fail to appear at his side, the surgeons go ho. If you try to divorce him..."

He glanced at her legs. "You’ll never feel the ice again. You won’t even feel the carpet beneath your feet."

Estelle looked at her mother, but Victoria was looking at the folder with the sa expression she used to wear when Estelle won gold.

Estelle shifted her gaze back to Vance. She shook her head. "No!" she blurted out. "I won’t do it."

Vance’s face darkened with displeasure, but Victoria stepped forward before he could say anything. "Yes, you will," she said firmly.

"No!" Estelle’s voice cracked, but she forced it louder. "No, Mother. I’ll fight, I’ll recover. I don’t need to beco a hostage to achieve that."

"With what money?" Victoria’s tone was ice. "With what insurance? Your sponsors dropped you before the ambulance even arrived."

"Then I’ll do endorsents, comrcials, anything." Estelle’s hands fisted in the sheets. "I’ll even sell my dals. I’ll—"

"Your dals?" Victoria laughed. "Estelle, you owe three hundred thousand to the training facility alone. Your dals won’t cover a month of the physical therapy you’ll need. You need to—"

"Then I’ll declare bankruptcy. I’ll start over!" Estelle cut in, desperation creeping into her voice.

"You’ll start over? How will you do that?" Victoria asked, crossing her arms, her tone mocking. "Crawl? You can’t even feel your legs, Estelle. You think you can rebuild from nothing? You think anyone will invest in a broken skater?"

"But we haven’t even tried to—"

"We didn’t co here to debate. Sign the damn papers or I will!" Victoria declared, her tone sharp and devoid of warmth.

Estelle’s breath ca in ragged gasps. The monitor scread her panic. "No, I’ll get a lawyer," she said, her voice trembling. "You can’t sign for . I’m an adult."

"I have the power of attorney," Victoria shot back.

Estelle’s chest felt tight, and she pressed a hand to steady it.

"You’ll be bankrupt before whatever lawyer you find finishes the retainer agreent," Vance interjected smoothly. "And Miss Rutledge, I should ntion. The surgical team we’ve arranged? They’re leaving for Dubai in seventy-two hours. This is a limited-ti offer."

"You’re bluffing," Estelle fired back.

"Am I?" Vance tilted his head. "Your doctors give you a thirty percent chance of walking again," he said calmly. "The surgeons Mr. Whitehall arranged? Eighty-five. But only if the surgery happens within the week. After that, the nerve damage becos permanent."

The room spun around her.

"You’re lying..." Estelle managed, though the words ca out weak.

"It’s just a contract, Estelle," Victoria murmured, reaching for the envelope. "Just like the ones with the skates, like the ones that paid for your entire life before you beca... unworthy," she said, pulling out the papers.

"Don’t—" Estelle tried to grab her mother’s wrist, but her arm was too weak, her reach too short. Her fingers closed on empty air. "Don’t you dare! Mother—!"

But Victoria had already picked up the pen. "You have to sign the docunt, or I will," she said, her tone final.

Estelle’s throat felt dry. And Vance? He smiled, satisfied.

Victoria turned to Vance. Her eyes glinted as she pulled the docunt from the envelope. "Where do I sign?"

The pen hovered above the paper.

Estelle stared at it in horror.