Roxy POV
I stood near the stone balustrade, looking out over the glittering city skyline.
Below us, the muted hum of the orchestra and the distant laughter of the gala felt miles away.
Richard Montgomery didn’t turn to face me right away.
He stood at the edge, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, his broad back stiff and rigid.
When he finally turned around, his grey eyes—the exact same shade as Jaxon’s, but entirely devoid of life—locked onto mine.
“You’re an intelligent girl, Miss Brooks,” Richard began, his voice dropping into a smooth, icy tone that sent a chill straight down my spine.
“You come from a background where every dollar is fought for. That breeds a certain… desperate ambition. I understand why you jumped at the chance to sink your teeth into my son.”
My jaw clenched tightly, my fingers digging into the stone railing behind me.
“I didn’t jump at anything, Mr. Montgomery. I am Jaxon’s tutor. Nothing more.”
“Do not insult my intelligence,” Richard replied smoothly, taking a slow step toward me.
The authority radiating off him made the air feel thin.
“You are a temporary distraction. A tool Jaxon is using to throw a temper tantrum because he dislikes my authority. But games have consequences, Roxy. Tomorrow morning, the university board meets to review your financial aid file. A single word from me, and your mother’s debt becomes immediately due, your scholarship vanishes, and your name is blacklisted from every academic institution in this state.”
My breath hitched in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal.
He wasn’t yelling.
He was stating facts as if he were discussing the weather.
“Why do you treat your son this way?” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay strong.
“He isn’t your property.”
Richard let out a soft, humorless chuckle.
“He is my investment. And I do not allow my investments to fail.”
“Step away from her, dad.”
A harsh, gravelly voice sliced through the freezing night air.
Jaxon stood in the doorway, his shoulders broad against the night sky, his face pale as sheets.
He took three long strides onto the balcony, his grey eyes wild with a dark rage as he stepped directly between his father and me, shielding my body with his own.
“I told you to leave her out of this,” Jaxon growled, his fists balled so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned bloodless white.
I waited for Jaxon to snap at his father.
I waited for the arrogant, untouchable hockey prince who had hoisted me over the glass wall and fought half the student body to put his father in his place.
Instead, something horrifying happened.
Richard didn’t flinch.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He simply took a slow sip of his drink and looked at Jaxon the way a master looks at a defective piece of machinery.
“You’re late, Jaxon,” Richard said flatly, his tone dripping with quiet authority.
“And your posture is sloppy. Put your shoulders back.”
I watched in utter shock as the terrifying, invincible Jaxon Montgomery froze.
The fire in Jaxon’s eyes didn’t vanish—it was forcibly crushed underneath his father’s dominance.
His jaw worked silently.
His chest heaved wildly under his dark suit as if he were choking on the cold air, but he didn’t step forward.
His shoulders stiffened, falling into a rigid, robotic stance.
He didn’t yell.
He didn’t fight back.
He just stood there, taking it in rigid, pale silence.
“You think that foolish stunt on the ice made you a man?” Richard continued, taking another slow step toward his son.
“You think pulling a scholarship girl onto national television makes you independent? You are a twenty-one-year-old child playing a game with rubber pucks. The only reason your name is on that pro draft board is because I fund the sports programs that keep you relevant.”
Jaxon’s throat worked silently, his fists trembling at his sides.
“I earned my draft spot,” Jaxon rasped, his voice barely a broken whisper, stripped of its usual arrogant bite.
“I worked for every single goal.”
“I have already outlined your entry-level contract with the league executives. You will play four years of professional hockey to satisfy your childish urge, and by your twenty-fifth birthday, you will announce your retirement and step into the corporate firm as vice president. You will marry Cassandra, you will secure the Belmont merger, and you will stop embarrassing this family.”
A wave of profound realization washed over me as I watched them.
The reckless driving.
The reckless fights on the ice.
The wild party reputation.
The arrogant, untouchable armor he wore like a shield every single day.
None of it was because Jaxon was a spoiled billionaire’s son who thought he owned the world.
It was a desperate cry for control.
Jaxon was trapped in a beautiful prison, his entire future mapped out, signed, and sealed by a man who treated his life like a business transaction.
Hockey wasn’t just a sport to Jaxon—it was the only place on earth where his father couldn’t control his every move.
And pulling me onto that ice wasn’t just a PR stunt, it was the only way he knew how to scream to the world that he was still alive.
My heart ached with a sharp pain that had nothing to do with my scholarship and everything to do with the broken boy standing in front of me.
Richard stepped closer, his cold grey eyes drifting away from Jaxon to fix on the white bandage covering the jagged cut on Jaxon’s cheek from the previous game.
“Look at you,” Richard spat, his voice filled with pure, cold disgust.
“Bleeding like a street thug in front of national reporters. You are one mistake away from ruining everything I have built for you.”
Jaxon swallowed hard, his head bowing by an inch, his voice dead.
“It was just a scratch.”
“It was a humiliation,” Richard corrected coldly.
Richard turned his gaze back to me, his face twisting into a sharp, cruel smile that promised destruction.
He reached out with a polished finger, pointing directly at my face, before turning his final word back to his silent, trembling son.
“One more reckless stunt, Jaxon,” Richard warned, his voice flat, and laced with promise.
“And I will dissolve her scholarship before the weekend ends.”