Chapter 59: The Birthday Gala: My mother
Kayden
The room looked like it was built for power, and the absence of my own kind made the walls feel like they were closing in on me. For a second, it felt hard to breathe.
I felt like an imposter in my burgundy suit—a lamb being led into a room full of lions. I glanced at Rhys, hoping for a sign, a look, anything, but his "Ice Prince" mask was locked firmly in place.
He looked every bit the Calder heir, cold and untouchable, just like he had looked the first day I met him.
"Rhys! Kayden! Over here!"
I turned to see Coach Reddick standing with a group near the center of the hall.
Some of our teammates were there too, looking far more relaxed than I felt. We walked over to join them, and I let out a sigh of relief because at least there were familiar faces around me.
"This party is insane!" Jaxson said, laughing as he clutched the glass in his hand. He looked genuinely thrilled, his face flushed with excitement. "It’s actually fun. I just met my childhood hockey idol over by the bar. I think I forgot how to speak for a second!"
Theo nodded in agreement, adjusting his cufflinks with a grin. "It’s definitely the event of the season. The networking alone is worth the suit."
They were both buzzing with the energy of the room, but when I glanced at Rhys, he didn’t look even remotely impressed.
His face was a mask of bored indifference. He had his eyes fixed on something else in the room, as if he was looking for a threat. To Jaxson and Theo, this was a dream; to Rhys, it was probably a nightmare.
"This party is boring," Miller cut in, leaning back and letting out a loud, dramatic yawn. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth. "I should’ve just stayed home and slept."
Coach Reddick let out a sharp, warning cough, shooting Miller a look that could have curdled cream. "Watch your tongue, Miller. You’re lucky to be here, and you know it."
Miller just rolled his eyes, looking entirely unbothered by the reprimand.
"Besides," the Coach continued, his voice dropping a notch as he reminded him, "you aren’t even here because of Rhys’s invitation. You’re here because your father was an Avalanche legend, and the Calders don’t forget their own. Try to show some respect for the name."
My eyes widened in total shock. I turned to Miller, my mouth slightly agape. Miller? The guy who acted like everything was a joke and nothing mattered was the son of an Avalanche legend? I had been around the team for months, and I’d never heard a single word about his family history.
Well, I never even cared to ask, so it was fair that I didn’t know.
Miller just shrugged, his expression remaining perfectly flat as he took a sip of his drink. "Old news, Kayden. Don’t hurt your brain thinking about it." He then turned towards Rhys. "You have a stone face right now, Rhys," he pointed out.
He was right, because Rhys’s expression had not changed ever since we entered, and he hadn’t spoken a word to me.
Rhys didn’t reply, and when I tried to talk to him, I realized the murmurings in the room had suddenly died down.
The loud laughter of the guests faded into a tense, expectant hush.
The air in the hall grew heavy, charged with a sudden, suffocating pressure, and by my side, I felt Rhys’s body go completely rigid. I caught a faint scent of his pheromones.
I followed the collective gaze of the room toward the grand, sweeping staircase to see what had made Rhys act that way.
A man descended the steps first. He looked like an older, more hardened version of Rhys. They both had the same sharp, lethal jawline and icy blue eyes, but his face was set in a permanent stoic mask. He wore a black suit that looked as if it had been carved onto his frame, radiating a cold, calculated authority.
He was just as I had pictured him: a ruthless man.
Walking just behind him was another man. This one was much older, his hair silver-white, but his presence was even more terrifying. He moved slowly, leaning on a dark, polished cane that clicked rhythmically against the marble steps, but there was nothing weak about him. He towered up just like Rhys and had an overpowering aura around him. His gaze made me visibly gulp, even though he wasn’t looking at me. He radiated raw, unchecked power—the kind that demanded submission without saying a word.
No one needed to tell me who they were. I was looking at the architect of Rhys’s pain and the king of this gilded asylum.
Rhys’s father and grandfather had arrived.
But as I stared at them, someone else appeared behind them.
A boy came first, with brown curls and sharp brown eyes that scanned the room with an arrogant stare.
I knew him instantly—Raymond Calder, Rhys’s half-brother and the rookie everyone was talking about. Beside him, however, was a woman who made the breath completely leave my lungs.
She wore a sleeveless red dress that flowed like blood against the marble, and she was smiling down at Raymond with a warmth that felt out of place in this cold house.
It was the first time she had ever been seen at a social gathering like this with the Calder family, but that wasn’t what had my heart hammering against my ribs until it hurt.
It was the fact that I recognized her.
I knew that face. I knew those eyes. I had spent years looking at them in the old, wrinkled pictures my father always hugged to sleep.
The woman was my mother, who had abandoned me just after my birth.
My heart pounded wildly as I watched her, my vision blurring. She looked beautiful. She looked happy. And she was smiling at Raymond like he was the only son she had in the world.