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 medal, more than any fall. And somehow, more than her own broken body.

She closed her eyes. The ice cracked beneath her mind’s feet. This is the moment 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 hammered against her ribs, making the monitor beep in a frantic, telltale rhythm. "He wants to marry me?! 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 time, her heart hammering 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 informed 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 me?" 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 screamed 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 epitome 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 tame 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 become the one thing Roman cannot ignore. You become 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 home. 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 same 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 become 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 endorsements, commercials, anything." Estelle’s hands fisted in the sheets. "I’ll even sell my medals. I’ll—"

"Your medals?" Victoria laughed. "Estelle, you owe three hundred thousand to the training facility alone. Your medals 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—" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

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

Estelle’s breath came in ragged gasps. The monitor screamed her panic. "No, I’ll get a lawyer," she said, her voice trembling. "You can’t sign for me. 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 agreement," Vance interjected smoothly. "And Miss Rutledge, I should mention. The surgical team we’ve arranged? They’re leaving for Dubai in seventy-two hours. This is a limited-time 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 becomes permanent."

The room spun around her.

"You’re lying..." Estelle managed, though the words came 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 became... 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 document, 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 document from the envelope. "Where do I sign?"

The pen hovered above the paper.

Estelle stared at it in horror.