Faking It With The Hockey Star

Justin’s POV

I couldn’t move. The medical report lay open on the hardwood floor where it had slipped from my trembling hands, its words burned permanently into my mind.

Evidence of prolonged toxic exposure...

My mother hadn’t simply gotten sick. Someone had done that to her. Someone who had sat right in this room with us.

My breathing became uneven and shallow. Everything around me blurred as voices faded into a distant hum, until all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my own heartbeat.

Then, a familiar warmth settled against my back. It was gentle, steady, and grounding.

Harper.

She didn’t speak. She simply rested her palm between my shoulder blades, rubbing slow, soothing circles as if she knew my entire world had just collapsed. Without even looking at her, I reached behind me until my fingers found hers. I held on tightly, like she was the only solid thing left in the universe.

"Thank you..." My voice barely existed, a raspy whisper in the quiet room. "Thank you for being here."

She laced her fingers tightly through mine. "I’m not going anywhere."

Something deep inside me cracked. If she hadn’t been here today, I honestly didn’t know how I would have survived this.

"I’m afraid..." Grandpa’s voice cut through the silence. "...we’re still not finished."

I slowly lifted my head. Grandpa was looking directly at my father.

"Richard."

Dad looked utterly exhausted, his posture slumping. "What now?"

Grandpa’s expression remained perfectly calm. "Have you been monitoring your health these past two weeks?"

Dad frowned in confusion. "My health?"

"Have you been getting headaches?"

"...Yes."

"Dizziness?"

"...Sometimes."

"Fatigue?"

Dad nodded slowly. "I thought it was stress."

Grandpa looked toward one of the detectives standing near the entryway. "The report."

The detective stepped forward and handed Grandpa another thick folder. Grandpa didn’t even open it. He handed it directly to my father.

"This one belongs to you."

Dad accepted it with shaky hands, flipping through the first page, then the second. His face slowly drained of every last trace of color.

"No..." he whispered, his hands trembling violently. "No..."

Grandpa spoke quietly. "Your personal chef became suspicious."

Dad looked up, his eyes wide. "Our chef?"

Grandpa nodded. "She noticed Diane insisted on serving your meals herself. She secretly kept samples, and we had them independently tested."

The room became deathly still.

Grandpa finished calmly, "Richard... you’ve been poisoned."

Dad stared at him in utter horror. "No... no... that’s impossible."

"I wish it were," Grandpa shook his head sadly, pointing toward the document in Dad’s hands. "The toxins were administered in extremely small doses. Just enough to slowly affect your judgment, your memory, and your health. If it had continued... you would have eventually been declared medically incompetent."

Dad looked over at Diane, then back at Grandpa. His lips trembled. "...Why?"

Grandpa answered before Diane could open her mouth. "Because once you were removed, the board would need someone to lead the company. You," he looked directly at Diane, "had already begun quietly contacting board members."

The detective stepped forward again, laying out photographs, financial records, emails, and meeting schedules on the table.

"We have evidence that Miss Diane approached several members of the board over the past month," the detective stated professionally. "She presented herself as the only stable candidate capable of running the company."

Dad looked at the photographs spread across the table. Then, very slowly, he turned toward Diane. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t shouting. He simply looked completely broken.

His voice was barely audible. "...Was any of it real?"

Diane stared back at him. For several long seconds, she said nothing. Then, something inside her snapped.

"Yes!" She shot to her feet, her face twisting. "I was tired! Tired of waiting! I gave you twenty years! Twenty years! I stood beside you and watched everyone treat me like I was nothing! I deserved that company! I deserved that life! I deserved everything your precious wife had!"

Dad staggered backward as though she had physically struck him. "No..." His voice cracked. "No... I loved you."

She laughed bitterly. "You loved having someone worship you. You loved having someone clean up after you. You never loved me."

Dad closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking. "I threw my family away... for this?"

Absolute silence returned to the room. I looked at the woman I had hated for years, unable to comprehend the sheer depth of her deceit.

The detective stepped forward, pulling out a set of handcuffs. "Miss Diane Collins, you are under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy to commit fraud, attempted murder, obstruction of justice, and several additional charges currently under investigation."

Two officers approached and firmly took hold of her arms. She struggled against their grip.

"Richard! You can’t let them do this! You love me!"

Dad didn’t move. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t even look at her. It was as if she no longer existed to him.

As the officers led her toward the front door, the detective turned to the rest of the room. "Ethan Brooks. Vanessa Collins."

Both of them looked up, startled.

"You are both under investigation for cyber harassment, criminal defamation, stalking, and unauthorized access to university computer systems."

Vanessa immediately burst into tears. "What? I didn’t—"

"You will be contacted formally," the detective replied neutrally. "You are not under arrest at this time."

Vanessa cried out as her mother was dragged out the front door. "M-Mom!"

Diane couldn’t answer. The heavy oak door closed behind her.

Grandma slowly turned toward Ethan, her voice filled with quiet disappointment rather than anger. "I knew your mother. I respected her. I never imagined her son would become someone who spent his days trying to destroy another person’s life."

Ethan lowered his head, devoid of any excuses, insults, or arrogance.

Grandpa nodded toward the officers. "Please escort them out."

Neither Ethan nor Vanessa resisted. They simply followed the officers outside in stunned silence.

One by one, everyone left: the detectives, the officers, my grandparents, and finally, my father. Before walking out, Dad stopped beside me. He looked like he had aged twenty years in a single afternoon.

"I’m sorry, son," his voice broke completely. "I failed you."

I couldn’t answer him. He nodded once, then walked out the door.

The front door closed, leaving the house painfully quiet. I sat exactly where I was, unable to move, think, or breathe. Everything I had believed about my family was gone. I stared at the empty living room, the scattered photographs, my mother’s diary, and the legal reports detailing twenty-three years of lies.

Then Harper stepped in front of me. She slowly knelt down until we were eye level, reaching for both of my hands. I let her take them, feeling her fingers interlock with mine.

My vision blurred with fresh tears. "I don’t know who I am anymore."

"Yes, you do," she said immediately, shaking her head. Her thumbs gently brushed across my knuckles. "You are nothing like them. You are kind. You are honest. You protect people, and you love with your whole heart." She offered a soft smile through her own tears. "You are your mother’s son."

That single sentence broke the dam inside me. A quiet sob escaped my chest before I could stop it.

I leaned forward, and she wrapped both arms around me without hesitation. For the first time since walking into this house, I let myself cry. Not because I was weak, but because in her arms, I finally felt safe enough to let go.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine.

Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at me, smiling softly. "Come on."

Her fingers intertwined firmly with mine. "Let’s go home."

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