Chapter 86: Family drama

Kieran’s POV

The heavy smell of medicine came first. Then came the hot pain. The left side of the body felt like fire, and the left leg was completely frozen under a heavy plaster cast. Moving the toes was impossible. A sharp beep from a heart monitor echoed in the room. Slowly opening the eyes revealed bright white lights on the ceiling. The glare made my head throb with a deep ache.

This was a hospital bed with tubes running into my arm, not the ice rink anymore.

Neither a doctor nor Aveline was inside.

Instead, Mr. Richard Hampton stood right at the foot of the bed. His face was twisted with absolute fury. Both hands were clenched into tight fists inside his expensive suit pockets.

The medical charts did not matter to him. The heavy cast on the shattered ankle and the tight bandages around the broken ribs did not matter either. His eyes burned with pure rage.

Amelia stood near the side of the bed. She has this worried look, her face was tight and extremely pale. She looked at my pale face in the bed, and then she watched her husband to anticipate his next move.

The moment my father saw my eyes open, he did not ask if things were okay. He did not ask about the pain. He took a fast, aggressive step toward the bed and slammed his fist down hard on the metal rolling table. The loud bang made the heart monitor beep rapidly.

“What the fuck were you thinking out there, Kieran?”

Mr. Richard roared, his voice shaking the quiet room.

“The championship match is ahead of us, and you throw your body onto the ice like a blind fool! You played like a total rookie in the qualifier!”

Swallowing was hard because the throat was completely dry. “Doing my job,” the words came out weak and rough. “The team won the match.”

“You call that a win?” my father spat back, his face turning a dark, ugly red. He leaned over the bed rails, getting right into my face. “You are the captain of this team! Your only job was to be the dominant player on that ice! Instead, you spent the entire match skating around like a clueless amateur!”

“Kieran helped the team get the winning assist,” my mother said. Her voice was full of worry as she stepped a little closer to protect me. “The team is in the finals because of him.”

Mr. Richard did not even look at her. His toxic glare stayed fixed on me.

“An assist?” my father shouted, his voice cracking with pure disgust. “You think anyone cares about a pathetic assist? They came to see a Hampton dominate the game! What have you reduced yourself to, Kieran? You cannot even score a single goal in a fucking match!”

He grabbed the edge of the hospital blanket and yanked it down violently, pointing his finger at the heavy leg cast.

“And now look at you!” my father yelled in my face. “You are completely broken! Your ankle is shattered, and your ribs are cracked. You might actually miss the actual championship match because of your stupidity! You are useless to the team now!”

Staring straight into his furious eyes, the physical pain in the body was nothing compared to the absolute disgust growing in the chest.

For years, this man had controlled every single breath. He had controlled workouts, food, and games. Staying silent was the only way to keep the peace in our house. Letting him treat me like a piece of property kept his anger away from my mother.

But looking at him right now, while I am laying here broken and bleeding, something inside snapped completely. The fear was entirely gone. Money and anger did not matter anymore.

“Is that all you care about?” the question was low, but it cut through his shouting like a sharp knife. “The championship? The goals?”

“It is the only thing that matters!” Mr. Richard snapped, straightening his expensive suit jacket. “Your success is the family's success! I built your entire hockey path!”

“No, you didn't,” the body forced itself to sit up slightly, ignoring the agony in the ribs. “You only care about your own pride, Richard. You are a completely selfish man. You spent your whole life chasing goals and money, but you couldn't even keep your own family together. Look at us. You don't have a family. You just have people you try to control.”

Mr. Richard froze. His eyes went wide with pure shock. He was not used to anyone speaking back to him like this. His face went from red to an even darker purple. He turned away from the bed and glared directly at my mother.

“Talk to your son, woman!” Mr. Richard barked at her, pointing an angry finger at my face. “Tell him to shut his mouth right now! Tell him who pays for his life!”

But my mother did not flinch this time. She did not sink back into the shadows. Instead, she stepped right into the space between my father and the bed. She stood tall, her eyes locking onto his.

“No, Richard,” my mother said, her voice surprisingly strong and steady. “I am not telling him to do anything. He is exactly right about you.”

“Amelia, shut up!” my father screamed, stepping toward her aggressively.

“Do not scream at me anymore!” my mother fought back, her voice rising to meet his anger. She pointed her finger directly at his chest. “I am warning you, Richard.

Stay the hell away from my son. You are not going to stand over his hospital bed and abuse him after he didnt just broke his bones on that ice. You are done talking to him like this. Get away from him right now.”

“I am his father!” Mr. Richard yelled, his chest heaving with rage. “I own his career! He does what I say!”

“You don't own him!” my mother shouted back, refusing to step away. “You have spent years treating us like garbage, but I am not letting you do it while he is hurt. Leave him alone!”

The two of them began arguing loudly in the center of the room. Their voices were shouting over each other, creating a chaotic wall of noise.

Looking at my mother's face showed the fierce determination in her eyes. For the first time ever, she was standing up to him. She was actually fighting back to protect her son. A strange, powerful feeling of happiness washed over the chest despite the blinding pain.

Listening to his voice was too much. This nightmare had to end completely.

I Reached down with the one good arm, the hand gripped the plastic IV lines that were taped tightly to the skin. With a hard, violent yank, the tubes came straight out.

Dark red blood started to spill out fast, splashing onto the clean white hospital sheets. The heart monitor immediately began to let out a loud, continuous, high-pitched alarm sound because the wires moved and the pulse was racing too fast.

“Kieran!” my mother gasped, turning around in horror as she saw the blood hitting the floor.

The heavy wooden door of the hospital room burst open instantly. The head doctor and two nurses rushed into the room, their faces pale as they heard the loud machine alarms.

“What is going on in here?” the doctor shouted, looking at the blood on the bed and then at the shouting parents.

“Get these people out of here,” the voice rasped out, the head leaning back against the pillow as a wave of dizziness hit the brain.

The doctor did not waste a single second. He stepped between my mother and father, pushing his arms out to guide them toward the exit.

“Both of you need to leave this room immediately!” the doctor ordered, his voice authoritative and angry.

“This is a recovery room, not a battleground. Your son has severe internal injuries, broken ribs, and a shattered ankle. His blood pressure is spiking dangerously because of this shouting. Out! Right now!”

“Do you know who I am?” Mr. Richard sneered, trying to push past the doctor. “I pay for this entire facility!”

“I do not care who you are, sir,” the doctor snapped back, gesturing for the security guard in the hallway to step inside. “If you do not walk out that door right now, security will physically remove you from the hospital premises. Leave.”

My father realized he was losing control of the room. He looked at the doctor, then at my mother, and finally at the bed. His eyes were cold and dead. He straightened his tie, turned around on his expensive leather shoes, and marched out into the hallway without saying another word.

My mother looked back one last time. Her face was still full of deep worry, but she gave a small, firm nod to show things were okay. She turned around and followed him out so the medical staff could work on the arm.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang.

The room became quiet again, except for the busy sounds of the nurses pressing buttons on the heart monitor to stop the annoying alarm. One nurse quickly grabbed a piece of fresh medical gauze and pressed it down hard on the bleeding hand to stop the flow.

“You need to stay perfectly still, young man,” the doctor said, his voice softening as he checked the pulse. “You are lucky you didn't cause more internal bleeding.”

Answering the doctor was not necessary. Closing the eyes and letting out a long, slow breath felt better. The lungs were burning, and the shattered ankle was throbbing with extreme, sharp agony under the heavy plaster.

But as i lay there in the quiet room, a real smile crept onto the face. The pain did not matter anymore. For the first time in years, my mother had stood up for herself against my father's toxic control. The puppet strings were finally breaking. Pure happiness was the only thing left.