ICE BETWEEN US

Adrien Agreste hated his father’s office. Everything about it felt calculated. The dark oak walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Montreal. The suffocating silence. Even the air smelled expensive and cold. Like power. No, Like judgment. Adrien loosened the collar of his black shirt as the elevator doors slid shut behind him. His pulse was still uneven from last night’s game, from the whiskey afterward, from the brunette whose name he couldn’t remember pressed against him outside Velvet Room while cameras flashed in his face. Apparently, the internet remembered her name even if he didn’t. His father stood near the massive desk with his hands clasped behind his back. Waiting. Gabriel Agreste didn’t look at his son immediately. He was staring out the window instead, expression unreadable. That was somehow worse. Adrien’s gaze drifted toward the newspapers spread across the desk. Tabloids. Sports blogs. Entertainment articles. His jaw tightened. HOCKEY BAD BOY ADRIEN LAURENT PARTIES HOURS BEFORE PRACTICE BILLIONAIRE HEIR SPOTTED LEAVING CLUB WITH TWO WOMEN IS ADRIEN AGRESTE THROWING HIS CAREER AWAY? “Creative headlines this week,” Adrien muttered. His father finally looked at him. Cold. Sharp. Disappointed. “You think this is amusing?” Adrien leaned against the chair across from the desk. “I think people get bored easily.” “You are an embarrassment.” The words landed harder than they should have. Not because they hurt. Because they didn’t surprise him anymore. Adrien gave a humorless smile. “Good morning to you too.” His father slammed a newspaper down on the desk. “For three years I have cleaned up your messes.” Another paper. “You fight in clubs.” Another. “You miss meetings.” Another. “You drink until dawn before practice.” His father’s voice lowered dangerously. “And somehow you still expect to inherit the Agreste Group.” Adrien’s expression darkened. There it was. The real reason he’d been summoned. Not concern. Not disappointment. Business. Always business. The Agreste empire mattered more than blood ever would. His father moved behind the desk slowly, like a king taking his throne. “You are twenty-seven years old, Adrien. Not seventeen.” Adrien crossed his arms. “And yet you still insist on treating me like an employee instead of your son.” “Employees are replaceable.” The silence that followed felt suffocating. Then his father slid a folder across the desk. Adrien frowned. “What’s this?” “Your final chance.” Something in his father’s tone made his stomach tighten. Adrien opened the folder. Financial documents. Inheritance arrangements. Company shares. Legal revisions. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell is this?” “If you fail this hockey season,” his father said calmly, “the company will no longer pass to you.” Adrien looked up slowly. “If your grades fall again, the company will no longer pass to you.” His father’s gaze hardened. “And if I wake up to one more scandal attached to the Agreste name…” He leaned forward slightly. “You lose everything.” Adrien laughed once. Short. Disbelieving. “You’re serious.” “I have never been more serious in my life.” A slow burn started building in Adrien’s chest. Anger. Humiliation. Exhaustion. “You think threatening me is suddenly going to turn me into the perfect heir?” “I think consequences might finally make you act like a man.” Adrien’s jaw flexed. “You know what?” he snapped. “Maybe if you spent half as much time being my father as you do controlling me—” “Enough.” The word cracked through the room. Silence followed instantly. Adrien looked away first. He hated that. Hated that even at twenty-seven years old, one look from Gabriel Agreste could still make him feel sixteen. The office doors opened quietly behind him. Perfect timing. Of course. His cousin stepped inside wearing an immaculate navy suit and a sympathetic expression Adrien wanted to punch off his face. Felix Laurent. Twenty-four. Polished. Calculated. Everything Adrien wasn’t. “Uncle,” Felix greeted softly before turning toward Adrien. “I didn’t realize you were already here.” Liar. Felix knew exactly when the meeting started. Probably arrived early just to enjoy the show. Adrien leaned back in his chair. “Come to watch the execution?” “Adrien,” Felix said carefully, “I’m sure your father only wants what’s best for you.” There it was. That fake concern. That carefully rehearsed sympathy. Adrien had known Felix long enough to see the satisfaction hidden underneath it. His cousin loved this. Loved watching him fall apart. Loved waiting for the moment the Agreste empire finally became his. His father gestured toward the folder. “Felix has already proven himself capable within the company.” Adrien scoffed. “Here we go.” “If you fail,” his father continued, “everything transfers to him.” The room went still. Even though Adrien already understood the threat, hearing it spoken aloud felt different. Real. Final. Felix lowered his eyes modestly. “I never wanted it to happen like this.” Adrien barked out a laugh. “Please. You’ve probably fantasized about this since we were kids.” “Adrien—” “No, let’s be honest for once.” He stood abruptly. The chair scraped harshly against the marble floor. “You’ve spent your whole life waiting for me to screw up.” Felix’s expression remained calm. “That’s not true.” “It is.” Adrien stepped closer. “And the worst part? You don’t even care about the company. You care about winning.” Something flickered briefly in Felix’s eyes. There. The real him. Cold ambition hidden beneath polished manners. His father sighed impatiently. “This immaturity is exactly why we’re here.” Adrien looked at him sharply. “You already decided I’d fail before I even walked into this office.” “I decided to prepare for reality.” The words hit harder than Adrien expected. Because maybe part of him feared his father was right. The drinking. The fights. The missed lectures. The constant headlines. Maybe he was spiraling. Maybe he’d been spiraling for years. But admitting that felt too much like weakness. And weakness in this family got you destroyed. Adrien grabbed the inheritance folder and tossed it back onto the desk. “Fine.” His father raised an eyebrow. “I’ll play your game.” “You will?” Adrien forced a smirk onto his face even though fury burned beneath it. “I’ll pass the season.” He looked directly at Felix. “And I’ll keep what’s mine.” Felix smiled slightly. Small. Controlled. Insufferable. “We’ll see.” Adrien shoved past him toward the door. But Felix’s voice stopped him just before he reached it. “Don’t worry, cousin.” Adrien paused. Then slowly turned his head. Felix adjusted his cufflinks casually. “I’ll take very good care of your future when you lose it.” Silence. Cold rage flooded Adrien’s veins instantly. For one dangerous second, he genuinely considered hitting him. Felix knew it too. Adrien could see it in his eyes. The challenge. The provocation. The quiet hope that Adrien would lose control. Again. But Adrien just smiled. Darkly. “If I lose everything,” he said softly, “I promise you’ll lose your teeth first.” Then he walked out before either of them could answer. — The arena smelled like sweat, ice, and aggression. Adrien preferred it over the office immediately. At least here people were honest about wanting blood. He slammed his locker shut harder than necessary. The team was already filtering out after practice while music blasted faintly through the room. “Rough morning?” Adrien glanced sideways. His teammate, Nino sat nearby unlacing his skates. Adrien grabbed a towel. “You could say that.” “You look homicidal.” “Accurate.” Nino snorted. Coach Tom entered the locker room before Adrien could say anything else. The room quieted almost instantly. Coach had that effect. Sharp-eyed. No-nonsense. Built like he still wanted to body-check players himself. “Adrien,” Coach called. Adrien looked up. “My office. Now.” Perfect. Another lecture. Exactly what he needed today. Adrien followed him down the hallway with irritation crawling beneath his skin. The second the office door shut behind them, Coach tossed a file onto the desk. Adrien stared at it suspiciously. “What now?” Coach folded his arms. “You’re academically ineligible.” Adrien blinked once. “What?” “You’re failing a required course.” Adrien rubbed his jaw slowly. “You dragged me in here for grades?” “I dragged you in here because if you fail that course, you can’t play.” That got his attention. Completely. Adrien straightened slightly. “I can fix it.” Coach gave him a look. “Can you?” Adrien’s silence answered for him. Coach sighed heavily. “The university already contacted me. Apparently this isn’t your first warning.” Adrien muttered a curse under his breath. Between training, media obligations, his father breathing down his neck, and trying not to implode publicly every weekend, classes had become background noise months ago. Coach sat down. “So here’s what’s happening.” Adrien already hated the tone. “You’ve been assigned a tutor.” Adrien stared at him. “A what?” “A tutor.” “No.” Coach ignored him. “You’ll attend every session.” “I’m not doing that.” “You don’t have a choice.” Adrien laughed incredulously. “I’m twenty-seven years old.” “And failing sophomore-level coursework.” That shut him up. Barely. Coach slid a paper across the desk. Adrien looked down at the name. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His tutor. Great. Probably some uptight honors student who already hated him because of the tabloids. “This is ridiculous,” Adrien muttered. Coach leaned back in his chair. “What’s ridiculous is a professional athlete risking his entire career because he can’t pass one class.” Adrien clenched his jaw. The career wasn’t even the worst part. If he lost hockey now… He lost everything. The team. The inheritance. The last shred of pride he had left. Coach’s expression softened slightly. “You’re talented, Adrien.” Adrien looked away. “But talent means nothing if you self-destruct before you reach your prime.” The words settled heavily in the room. Because deep down, Adrien knew. Everyone around him saw it. The spiral. The recklessness. The exhaustion hiding underneath the arrogance. Coach stood. “Your first tutoring session is tomorrow evening.” Adrien scoffed. “Can’t wait.” “You should.” Coach’s voice hardened again. “Because if you fail…” Adrien finished the sentence bitterly. “I can’t play.” “No.” Coach looked him dead in the eyes. “You lose your future.” And for the first time all day— that threat actually scared him.