SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK.

ICE SIX: I'M A DRUGGIE.

THANE’S POV:

I couldn’t even work my jaw where the punch had landed. My neck throbbed. My spine screamed. And all I could do was lie there, blinking up at the ceiling like some defenseless invalid.

"Has my father lost his damn mind?"

My mother lurched forward from the foot of the bed. “Harold—!”

“Don’t,” my father snapped without looking at her. He raised a hand not to strike, but to stop. She froze mid-step.

My father's gaze shifted to my brother, his eyes blazing with a warning: "don't even think about defending him." The unspoken message was clear, and my brother's eyes dropped in understanding. Then, my father's eyes turned back to me, filled with deep disappointment.

Vaughan stood near the window, arms crossed. He looked at me with pity.

Harold Slade, my father was a man you didn’t question. Towering. Square shoulders. Hair peppered with grey but always neatly combed. His presence alone filled any room and shrank it around you. Every inch of him was polished, composed, powerful. A CEO. A strategist. A war general disguised as a father.

My mother, Eden, was the softness he pretended not to need. Warm olive skin, soft chestnut curls swept into a bun, always smelling faintly of lavender and patience. She was the reason our house ever felt like a home. Gentle, but never weak. Always holding back the storm.

Then there was Vaughan—my older brother by five years. Clean-cut, steady-eyed, jaw carved from granite. He got Dad’s height and ambition. I got the smirk and recklessness. We were both built like athletes—broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, the Slade trademark stare that could freeze someone mid-sentence.

My brother had always been the heir apparent, successfully running the family business alongside Dad. He had a knack for it, and I was happy to leave that world to him. My passion was hockey, until it was taken away from me.

Despite numerous attempts to groom me to take over the Slade empire, my heart was never in it. Sports, not suits, was my calling.

I was more than content to leave the family legacy in Vaughan’s capable hands. In fact, I'd willingly sign over my shares and any claim to power without hesitation, knowing it was where it belonged – with him.

Straightening out, “I mean this with all due respect,” I said to my father, my voice slow and dry, “but if you’d do less punching and more explaining why I deserved that, it would be helpful.”

My father let out a slow, heavy breath, his chest deflating as the air escaped his lungs. Then, he reached into his coat, pulled out his phone, and flung it at me.

“Ouch,” I muttered, catching it clumsily. “You know, most parents say ‘I’m glad you’re alive,’ not ‘Duck, here’s a concussion.’”

I looked down at the screen, expecting something dramatic. Instead, it was a lock screen photo. Him and Mum, probably ten years ago, on a beach. She was laughing. He was smirking, shirt half unbuttoned. They actually looked in love.

My brow furrowed. “I’m not exactly sure what you want me to see here. How cute you and Mum were when you weren’t trying to kill each other?”

He didn’t blink. “Search your name on Google.”

I paused. My stomach dipped. Part of me didn’t want to. Really didn’t want to. But something in his voice told me I had to.

So I obeyed.

And the moment I hit “Search,” my jaw nearly unhinged.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Headlines. Dozens of them.

“NHL Star Thane Slade Tests Positive for Performance Enhancing Drugs.”

“Freak Accident or Drug-Induced Blackout?”

...and a flood of others screaming the same thing.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Tell me it’s fake,” I croaked. “Tell me it’s a prank. This isn’t—this can’t—”

“You’re a disappointment.” My father’s voice cut through me like a scalpel. “I thought—just once—you’d grown up. That maybe having something you're passionate about will knock some sense into you. But no. You’ve managed to embarrass this family in ways I didn’t even think were possible.”

“Harold,” my mother called out, gently reaching for her hand, “he’s just waking up. He’s in pain. He hasn’t even had time to—”

“Don’t do that, Eden. Don’t coddle him. This is your fault. You babied him. Let him get away with everything. And now look. Look what he’s done," his voice rose.

She staggered back like he’d slapped her.

“Enough!" Vaughan exploded, stepping forward for the first time. “You want someone to blame? Look in a mirror, Dad. Thane’s not perfect, but he’s worked his ass off to get where he is. You think any of this makes sense? You think he’d throw his entire career away on drugs?”

His voice shaked at the end. He was angry and scared. Dad didn't been spoken back at.

I swallowed, but the lump in my throat stayed lodged.

I thought nothing could hurt worse than the pain in my shattered spine. Or watching the world move on without me.

But this?

This was worse.

Waking up to my name in pieces. My legacy trashed. And my own family believing I did it.

I might've done every other thing wrong but, one thing I'd never compromised was my integrity, especially when it came to my career. I'd earned every victory, every accolade, through hard work and dedication.

My mother walked over to my side, laying her hand on my shoulder. “They said… the accident happened because you were intoxicated." Her voice barely escaped. “You blacked out and lost control.”

I stared at her. I could barely see anymore. My vision was swimming. I tried to think, take my mind back to that day. I remembered that day with crystal clarity. The only thing I'd had was water. Nothing else.

"I've never used drugs," I voiced out, not caring who was listening. "Not once. This is a vicious lie." I paused, keeping my emotions in check. "I gave everything to my sport. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every sacrifice. I was the best because I worked tirelessly to be. And now... now they're telling me it was all for nothing? That I'm a liar? A cheat?"

My father's face twisted, his eyes bulging as he growled, "You should've thought twice before acting so recklessly. Now, your hockey career is in shambles." He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with anger, and snatched his phone from my hand.

"But I'll give you one last chance. Once you're out of this bed, you'll come work at the company. It's where you belong, not chasing some foolish dream on the ice," his voice rumbled

Vaughan intervened, "Dad, come on, don't you think you're being too harsh? Thane almost..."

My father's fury filled eyes stopped Vaughan as Dad spun around to meet Vaughan's gaze His anger boiled over, his face purpling.

A vein throbbed in his forehead. "How dare you!" he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. Vaughan maintained his stand. Dad's gaze snapped back to me, his eyes blazing with contempt.

"You’ll do as I say,” he spat. “You’re done being a disgrace. You’ll start over. At the company. As my son—not some fantasy hero.”

His chest heaved with rage. His fists trembled. But I didn’t flinch.

I just stared.

Realizing the truth I’d spent my whole life outrunning.

All I ever wanted was for my father to accept what I loved—hockey. Me.

Not the version in a suit. Not the one following his blueprint.

Every win. Every bruise. Every insane hour on the ice—I did it chasing a nod that would never come.

Because he never saw me.

Only what he could make from me.

And the worst part?

Now I was broken.

An invalid with nothing left to fight with.

I couldn’t even stand up to him, let alone prove him wrong.