Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 93: Chapter 93

BECCA
“Everything is perfect,” Darcy, my wedding planner, chirps through the speaker. I’ve got the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear as I wrestle with the key card to the suite. It takes three tries before the light finally turns green.
The moment I get the door open, I wave Tonia off with a tired smile — bless her, she’s been glued to my side all day — and kick the door shut behind me, letting the exhaustion finally settle in.
“I do apologise again for the delay with the flowers,” Darcy continues. “But everything’s in place now. The camera crew arrived about an hour ago. They did a few test shots and everything’s working perfectly.”
“That’s a relief, Darcy. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” I rub at the knot in my shoulder, biting back a sigh. The suite is silent, empty. Zane’s probably still out drinking with his friends.
And for once, that’s not the part bothering me.
Stone’s abrupt disappearance felt like the first clean breath I’ve had in weeks. With any luck, his absence from the wedding will extend into the rest of our marriage.
Filming for episode two of the reality series wrapped yesterday, but I haven’t stopped since. I’ve been running myself ragged — coordinating the shoot, triple-checking every last wedding detail, juggling Lolo’s daily video calls like clockwork.
Episode three films in three days. The finale? Scheduled for next week — during the wedding itself. The thought makes me laugh, dry and bitter.
Darcy’s voice pulls me back. “Which reminds me — I wanted to ask about the ring bearer. That should’ve been decided by now. I’m afraid we’re cutting it too close to find someone suitable.”
A fresh headache pulses behind my eyes. “It’s such a minor detail, I keep pushing it off. I’ll handle it. Thank you again, Darcy.” I hang up before she can say anything else and let myself collapse onto the bed.
As if on cue, Zane walks into the suite. I lift my head. He’s more sober than I expected.
“Babe?” I say, casually. “I was just thinking about looking for you.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. I don’t even flinch. I’ve grown used to his detachment since we boarded this cruise — his quiet absence, his shrinking patience. He grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, takes a long pull, and finally turns to face me.
There’s that look again. The one that used to be warm, now dulled by irritation.
“What do you want?”
I sit up slowly. There’s no easy way to say it, so I just rip the bandage off. “We don’t have a ring bearer.”
He blinks. “A what?”
“A ring bearer,” I repeat, too tired to sugarcoat anything. “For the wedding. We don’t have one.”
He drags a hand through his hair and scowls. “How the fuck is that my problem?”
My jaw tightens. It’s your wedding, too, I almost snap. Not a party someone else planned where you just show up and drink. But instead, I bite down hard on the response and ask, “So you don’t care what I decide?”
“Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Great.” I lie back against the pillows, pulling the blanket over my shoulders. “I already got Lolo a dress just in case.”
He freezes.
“You will do no such thing,” he says, his voice suddenly ice.
I glance at him, slow and lazy. “Why not? I thought you didn’t care. Lorelei is our daughter — who better to carry the rings?”
“I said no.” His voice cracks sharp like a whip. “Damn it, Becca. I said NO.”
That’s it. My patience finally gives. It was never bottomless.
I sit up straighter, eyes locked on his, and let the heat rise. “How long are you planning to keep her a secret, Zane?”
“As long as I fucking want.”
“No,” I snap. “It doesn’t work like that. I’m not letting our daughter be your dirty little secret. Either you get your shit together and show up for her, or—”
“Or what?” he cuts in with a sneer. “You’ll leave me? Take Lorelei and run off? Go ahead. I don’t give a flying fuck. We both know who’d regret it in the end — and it won’t be me.”
The words hit like a slap.
My hands fist the sheets. I wonder how Lolo would feel hearing that. Hearing her father flat-out admit he doesn’t care. But leaving isn’t an option. Not yet. I need this wedding as much as she needs a father. I need the optics. The exposure. The power of his name next to mine.
Marrying Zane will give me everything I’ve been clawing toward, everything my hiatus took away from me — money, status, security. All I have to do is smile through the ceremony, survive a year of marriage, and then? File the papers. Secure full custody. Drain every last cent in child support to build the life Lorelei and I actually deserve.
That’s the deal I made with myself. If I can’t make him love us, I’ll make him useful.
Let him rot where he stands. I’ll bleed him dry.
“Fine,” I say, voice cold as stone. “Say whatever you want. But Lolo will be our ring bearer. She will be at the wedding. And with millions of people watching, right there on that aisle, you're going to claim her as your daughter. I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you how this is going to go.”
His face twists. “How dare you?”
He storms toward me. I don’t move.
The second I’m on my feet, he lashes out. One hand wraps around my throat, pinning me back. My breath chokes off instantly.
His face is inches from mine, voice low and furious. “Apologise. Is that how you talk to your future husband?”
Even with my lungs burning, I meet his gaze and spit the words out. “Go… f-fuck yourself.”
He laughs, cold and ugly. “Why should I? That’s your job. That’s all you’ll ever be. A body to warm my bed. Don’t forget it.”
His other hand clamps over my mouth. “The second you do, I’ll toss you and that kid like you never existed. Do you hear me, wife?”
I sink my teeth into his hand. Hard.
He yells and shoves me. I slam into the wall, pain cracking through my back like lightning. My vision blurs for a second.
He snarls, “Are you fucking insane?”
I drag in a breath, raw and ragged, my throat burning. “Insane?” I glare at him, unflinching. “Oh, baby. You haven’t seen insane yet.”
It only takes a second to yank the thick brown envelope from my bag. I hurl it straight at him. It hits him dead in the face.
Zane stumbles, more stunned than hurt, and drops to his knees to pick it up. I stay standing, hand pressed to my bruised throat, watching him.
When he pulls out the contents — photos, printed messages, screen grabs — his face drains of colour. He flips through the pile, faster now, desperate and panicked.
I smile. Cruel. Cold. Satisfied.
“Let’s see,” I say lightly. “Stalking. Attempted murder. Aiding and abetting sexual assault. Possession of videos documenting it. Want me to keep going? It only gets darker.”
He stares at the pages in his hands like they’re burning him.
I take a step forward. “You think no one’s watching you, but I’ve been watching for years. And guess what? I’m better at it.”
His eyes shoot up to mine, wild. “How did you—?”
“Does it matter?” I cut him off. “All that matters is what I do with it.”
I crouch down just enough to meet his gaze head-on, voice sharp and calm. “Now you’re going to be a good little groom. You’re going to marry me. You’re going to acknowledge Lorelei as your daughter in front of every camera, every reporter, every single person that tunes into this wedding.”
I lean in, just enough for him to see I mean every word. “And if you ever — ever — threaten me or my daughter again, I will destroy you.”