Blake POV:
I sat in the leather armchair, my face a mask of indifference as the clinic director, a man named Wallace, stammered through his explanation. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
My thumb mindlessly swiped across my phone screen, displaying the team's training schedule from my agent, Sean. I couldn't focus on a single word.
A week ago, my lawyer received an urgent notice from this clinic. A sperm sample I'd frozen here five years ago-a precaution for my career-had been used in an IVF procedure for a female client due to an "unprecedented human error."
I was in Toronto for an away game when I got the news. I'd nearly crushed the water bottle in my hand.
"So," I cut through Wallace's rambling apology, my voice cold. "You're telling me there's a woman I don't know, pregnant with my child?"
Wallace's face went from pale to ghostly white. "Yes, Mr. Underwood. We take full responsibility. We are prepared to offer compensation in any form."
A humorless laugh escaped my lips. "Compensation? You think my bloodline has a price tag?"
My family, the Underwoods, built a sports empire. Our name does not tolerate blemishes. An illegitimate child from an unknown woman? My father, Donovan, would have my head.
I stood and walked to the massive window, looking down at the Chicago streets. My public image was the NHL's "bad boy," but that was a calculated brand. My private life was meticulously controlled.
"Who is the woman?" I asked without turning around.
Wallace scrambled to hand me a file. "Her name is Alyse Dawson. This is her profile. We aren't supposed to share this, but given the circumstances..."
I took the folder and opened it. The first page was a passport-style photo. The woman had a gentle face, long brown hair, and hazel eyes that held a hint of exhaustion.
The file stated she was twenty-four, married to a Jase Hobbs. Occupation: Bakery owner.
Married? My brow furrowed. A married woman undergoing IVF used another man's sample?
"Does she know about the sample?" I asked.
Wallace shook his head. "Not yet. We only informed her the IVF was successful. Dr. Evans tried calling her several times today, but she didn't answer. Her phone is off now."
I closed the file. "I don't want a fifth person knowing about this," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
"Of course, of course." Wallace nodded frantically.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my agent. "Sean, I need you to run a check on someone. Alyse Dawson. And her husband, Jase Hobbs. I want everything you can find on them, fast."
Hanging up, I tossed the file back onto the desk. "Handle the fallout, Wallace. My lawyer will be in touch."
I walked out of the clinic without another glance.
Inside my Bentley, I rubbed my temples in frustration. A child. A married mother. A colossal mess.
My phone rang. An unwelcome number. Mrs. Montgomery.
I declined the call. It rang again. I finally answered.
"Blake, darling, are you avoiding me?" Mrs. Montgomery's voice was sickeningly sweet.
I cut her off. "Mrs. Montgomery, I thought we were clear last time. I have no interest in your daughter Claire, and the Underwood family doesn't need to secure its position through marriage."
There was a brief silence, then a cold reply. "You'll regret this, Blake."
I hung up. One problem after another.
I started the car, merging into traffic. My mind was stuck on the face of that woman, Alyse Dawson. A married woman using another man's sample. Was it for money? Or some other scheme?
Sean's call came through. "Blake, initial check is done. The husband, Jase Hobbs, is an AHL player. Career's going nowhere. They've been married three years, live in a standard apartment out west. Nothing special on the surface."
The AHL. The minor leagues. It fit the picture of a man desperate for a payday.
"Keep digging," I ordered. "I want to know why they'd use someone else's sample for IVF. Check their financials."
After hanging up, the woman's face flashed in my mind again. Gentle, tired. Was she a greedy scammer or just a desperate wife?
Either way, she was carrying my child. And I, Blake Underwood, would never allow my blood to be raised by strangers, nor would I let it become someone's bargaining chip.
