Chapter 100: What Matters Most

Amelia’s POV

The morning sun filled the bedroom, but the mood in the house was still very quiet. A private doctor, Dr Evans, had arrived at dawn. He was a trusted friend of my father, and I knew he would keep our secrets. Right now, a clear IV drip was connected to Kieran’s arm, flushing the bad chemicals out of his system.

Kieran lay perfectly still in the bed. He looked very weak. His skin was pale, and his hands were shaking from the drug withdrawal. Every few minutes, he would twitch or groan in his sleep as his nerves started to wake up.

I sat in a chair right next to his bed. I had not slept all night. kept changing the damp cloth on his forehead to keep his fever down.

Suddenly, Kieran opened his eyes. He looked around the room in a panic, his breathing getting very fast. He tried to sit up, but the IV line pulled tight.

"Calm down, sweetheart. You are okay," I said softly, leaning over him. I gently pressed my hand against his shoulder to keep him still. "You are safe. It is just me."

Kieran looked at me, and his eyes filled with tears. He covered his face with his shaking hands and started to sob. The crying was deep and heavy, shaking his whole chest.

"I am so sorry, Mom," Kieran choked out through his tears. "I am so, so sorry. I lied to you. I hid everything."

"Shh, do not cry, Kieran," I said, taking his hands away from his face. I wiped his tears with my thumb. "You do not need to apologise to me."

"No, I do," Kieran said, his voice cracking. "I knew the drugs Dad was giving me were wrong. I knew it wasn't normal medicine. But I kept taking them anyway. I wanted the pain in my ankle to stop, but I also wanted to make myself happy and not be like him. I lied to you when you asked me if I was okay. I told you I was just tired."

"Kieran, look at me," I said firmly, cupping his face in my hands. He looked into my eyes, his face wet with tears. "You were a child trapped by a manipulative man. Your father used your dreams to control you. He scared you, and he isolated you. I do not blame you for anything. I forgive you completely."

Kieran shook his head, looking down at the blanket. "I was just so desperate, Mom. I thought that if I did not play in the championship game, I was worthless. Dad told me every single day that the Hampton name depended on me. He said if I failed on the ice, I would ruin the family and disappoint you. I didn't want to be a disappointment."

Hearing his words broke my heart. I climbed onto the edge of the bed and pulled him into a tight hug. I let him weep against my shoulder, holding him as close as I could.

"Listen to me very carefully, Kieran," I whispered fiercely into his ear. "That championship trophy is just a piece of gold metal. It means absolutely nothing to me.

Your hockey career means nothing to me without your life. I do not care about the draft, or the scouts, or the Hampton brand. I would burn every single ice rink in this country to the ground just to keep you safe and breathing."

Kieran gripped the back of my shirt, crying harder.

"Really? You aren't mad that I might never play again? My leg feels so weak, Mom. I don't think I can even skate."

"I am not mad at all," I said, kissing the top of his head. "I am happy you are alive. Your father used my father's money to build his company, and then he used that money to buy poison for you. That ends now. Your only job right now is to heal."

We stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other. For the first time in years, the wall between us was gone. Richard was not there to twist our words or make us doubt each other.

A few days passed in the quiet house.

The doctor visited every day to check Kieran’s blood. Slowly, the physical tremors from the drug withdrawal started to disappear.

The dark circles under Kieran's eyes faded, and a healthy colour returned to his face.

On the fifth morning, Kieran felt strong enough to get out of bed. His ankle was still wrapped in a heavy brace, but he could walk slowly with a pair of crutches. I helped him walk out onto the sunny terrace attached to his room.

The air was warm. Kieran took a deep, clear breath of fresh air. For weeks, his lungs had felt tight from the stress and the drugs. Now, his chest felt light.

There was a sports magazine sitting on the glass table on the terrace. The cover showed a picture of the upcoming championship tournament. The date was only a few days away.

Kieran looked down at the magazine. I watched him closely, worried that he would feel sad or anxious.

Instead, Kieran just smiled a small, peaceful smile. He reached out, picked up the magazine, and flipped it over so the cover faced down. He didn't need to look at it anymore.

"How do you feel?" I asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I feel good, Mom," Kieran said, looking out over the green yard. "My brain doesn't feel foggy. The room isn't spinning."

"And your ankle?"

"It hurts," Kieran admitted honestly. "But it's a real pain. It's not that numb, creepy feeling from the drug. I can actually feel my own body again."

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder. He was right. He was finally waking up from the nightmare his father had put him in.

Kieran reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He had a few hundred missed calls and texts from coaches, but he ignored them all. Instead, he clicked on a text message from Asher Carter.

Asher had written: Hey man, just wanted to check in. I hope you are okay. Don't worry about the team. Just get better.

Kieran showed me the screen. "Asher saved my life, didn't he? If he hadn't called you, I would still be in that room."

"He did," I said. "He is a good friend. When you are stronger, we will invite him over for dinner."

Kieran nodded and typed a quick reply to Asher: I am safe. Thank you.

He put the phone away and looked back out at the sun. The pressure to win was completely gone. He did not have to prove anything to Richard anymore. His father wanted him to win a trophy on the ice, but Kieran was winning a much bigger battle right here. He was getting his mind, his body, and his mother back.

He took another deep breath, completely free from his father's shadow. He was finally healing