The hockey star secret twins

[Sienna POV] My son adored the man I despised. Every morning, five-year-old Ryder woke up talking about Asher Knight as if he controlled the sun and personally arranged every star in the sky. Sadly for me, today was no exception, except instead of simply talking about his hero, Ryder had apparently decided to defend him with his fists. "He bit another kid, Ms. Carter," the elementary school principal said, rubbing his forehead. I stared at Principal Bennett from across his desk. Before I could say anything, Ryder sprang to his feet. "I did not bite him!" he argued. His dark hair stuck up in every direction, making him look like he had survived a tornado. "I checked him into the cubbies. It was a clean hit." "Ryder, enough," I said gently, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Principal Bennett, I am so sorry. Ryder is usually a very sweet boy. What started all this?" Principal Bennett released a long sigh. "A boy in his class told him Asher Knight was overrated and that the Chicago Wolves were going to lose the playoffs. Your son treated it like a declaration of war." I shut my eyes briefly as a headache formed. Being a single mother was already hard enough. Between unpaid bills, my mother's medical expenses, and raising twins on my own, the last thing I needed was my son fighting kindergarten battles because someone insulted the country's biggest hockey star. "I'm sorry," I said. "It won't happen again." "It better not," Principal Bennett replied. Ryder muttered something under his breath. I really didn't want to know what it was. I took Ryder’s sticky hand and led him out toward the parking lot. The drive home was mostly normal, except Ryder couldn't stop talking about his favorite hockey player and the incident from earlier. "He said Asher's slap shot is weak, Mom," Ryder complained from his car seat, crossing his little arms. "It's not weak. It's a hundred miles per hour. When I grow up, I'm gonna have a hundred-mile-per-hour shot too. I need the new Wolves jersey. The blue one. With the captain’s 'C' on it." "Ryder, we've already talked about this. No more hockey talk today," I said, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. "And no jerseys. We need to save money right now." "You always say that," he grumbled. Sitting beside him, his twin sister, Riley, never looked up from her drawing pad. She was only four minutes younger than Ryder, but somehow she acted eighteen years older. "Shut up, Ryder," she said calmly. "Mom looks tired. Besides, Asher Knight doesn't even know you exist. Why do you care if Lincoln thinks he's terrible?" "He isn't terrible! He's the Ice Lord!" Ryder shouted. "He's the best player in the world! One day I'm gonna meet him face to face, and he's gonna sign my hockey stick!" Every time Ryder said Asher’s name, something inside me twisted painfully. Old memories always followed. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly the fake leather creaked beneath my fingers. It felt like a cruel joke. Out of every sport in the world, my son chose hockey. Out of every player in hockey, he chose Asher. "Riley is right, Ry," I said, forcing my tone to stay neutral. "He's just a man on a television screen. Let's focus on your reading homework tonight instead." An hour later, the twins were settled in the living room. Riley quietly organized her crayons by color while Ryder sat on the rug, silently sulking. Watching her draw reminded me of my younger self. I had once loved art too. Reality had simply buried that dream. I walked into their small bedroom to pick up Ryder's discarded clothes and suddenly froze. Taped to the back of the bedroom door was a page torn from a sports magazine. I couldn't look away. The man staring back from the photograph was breathtakingly handsome. Dark stubble shadowed his strong jawline, while icy gray eyes seemed to pierce through the glossy paper itself. He wasn't smiling. The media called him the Ice Lord for a reason. He looked untouchable, wrapped in the expensive armor of the Chicago Wolves captain's uniform. Asher Knight stared back at me from that torn magazine page. Older. More successful than the boy I once loved. The memories returned instantly. Once upon a time, Asher Knight had been more than a hockey star. He had been the boy who shared one order of cheap diner burgers with me because we were both broke. He had been the man who held me through the darkness and promised that his future meant nothing if I wasn't part of it. He had been my entire world. Until he wasn't. Until one explosive argument tore us apart, and he chose a flight overseas, a glittering career, and a wealthy socialite over the girl from the wrong side of town. I forced myself to look away from the picture, swallowing the grief I had spent years trying to bury. I survived the heartbreak. I survived a high-risk pregnancy alone in my aunt’s spare bedroom while my abusive father hunted me down for money. I built a life from nothing. Asher Knight was a ghost. And ghosts couldn't hurt me anymore. Leaving the bedroom, I sat at the small kitchen table and pushed aside a pile of final-notice utility bills before opening my laptop. For the past three weeks, I had been aggressively applying for corporate PR and communications positions. I needed a real salary. I needed stability. A soft chime echoed through the quiet kitchen. New Email: Chicago Sports Entertainment Group – Application Status My heartbeat immediately accelerated. I clicked it open, my eyes racing through the message so quickly the words blurred together. Dear Ms. Carter, We were highly impressed by your portfolio and your extensive background in crisis management. We would like to fast-track you for an interview for the Senior PR Manager position. This role oversees player relations, media training, and brand protection for our primary franchise. The salary and comprehensive benefits package are attached below. A startled laugh escaped my lips. The salary listed in the attached PDF was more money than I had ever seen in my entire life. It was medical treatment for my mother. It was a safer neighborhood for my twins. It was the future I had been struggling to give them. "Yes," I whispered as tears filled my eyes. "Thank you, God. Yes." I scrolled down to open the attached onboarding outline. The smile disappeared from my face. At the very top of the document was a silver-and-blue logo. The Chicago Wolves. My pulse faltered. Slowly, I scrolled down. Past the management structure. Past the player profiles. Until I reached the team captain. Asher Knight. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Five years ago, I loved him with everything I had. He shattered my heart. He left me to raise his children alone. And now fate wanted me to work for him. "No." The word barely left my lips. Then my gaze shifted to the overdue bills scattered across my kitchen table. Electricity. Rent. Medical expenses. Reality hit hard. I couldn't turn down this opportunity. I closed my eyes. Whether I wanted to see Asher Knight again or not... I needed this job.