Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173

It all sounds like what it is: weak. Selfish. Excuses.

And for the first time in a long time. I don’t have anything to say.

She sees it. Of course she does. Her expression shifts – brittle and flat. Then she yanks the pamphlets and the pregnancy test box from my hands and turns her back.

“Get out.”

My breath catches. “Tess, I’m sorry-”

“You can take your stuff. Leave it here. I don’t care.” She gestures to the mess on the desk like it’s meaningless. “Do whatever you want. Just… go. I don’t want to see you right now.”

Her words hit harder than they should. I blink. “You’re… you’re kicking me out?”

—

She turns, and for the first time tonight, she actually looks like herself – but not the strong, distant version she’s been holding together. No, this is the real one. Cracked open. Raw.

“Let me ask you something,” she says. “You’ve already been snooping around enough to know everything, so let’s just stop pretending. I don’t have the energy to spell it all out.”

I freeze.

“But I’ll give you the dignity of turning it into a scenario. Just so it stings less.” She swallows. “Let’s say I’m pregnant. And all I want is to

get rid of it. No explanations. Would you support me then?”

“Yes,” I say.

But I say it a second too late.

The pause hangs like a slap in the air.

–

She nods — just once. “Exactly what I thought.”

She looks away, but her voice doesn’t soften. “Do you know the first thing I thought after buying that test? I thought, Emilia would never understand. Not really. She’d say the right words – because she’s good at that – but deep down, she’d be thinking, ‘the baby didn’t do anything wrong.

—

She presses a hand to her face, like she’s too tired to hold the rest in.

“She’d think I’m a monster. A murderer. She just wouldn’t say it out loud.”

My chest aches.

I want to deny it. I want to say, That’s not true, I don’t think that at all.

My stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

She still doesn’t turn around.

“I’m putting in my resignation,” she says, voice flat. “I’ll stay just long enough for them to find a replacement. Then…” A long pause. “I’m going back to Russia.”

DIANA

I don’t bother with a second glance.

The necklace is off in one tug the clasp snapping, the sound of metal hitting marble, I drop it onto the hotel floor. “I don’t wear counterfeits.”

Amanda, ever the picture of discretion, nods once. “It was just a sample, ma’am. Sent over by Vanderbilt Jewellery for your approval. The creative director is suggesting we go with a-” she checks the notes in her hand- “simpler design for the campaign.”

I take the proposal she offers me and skim exactly two lines before tossing it after the necklace.

“So by ‘simpler‘ he means cheaper,” I say flatly. “Remind him this is Vanderbilt Holdings, not some Etsy startup run by trust fund burnouts. Cancel the meeting. Scrap the concept. Either he comes back with diamonds or he doesn’t come back at all.”

“Yes, Ms. Vanderbilt.”

Amanda crouches to retrieve the necklace and papers, but I flick a hand. “Leave it. That’s what the cleaning staff are paid for.”

By the time we exit my hotel, my patience is already fraying. Amanda opens the car door with military precision, and I slide in without a word. She gets in the front and starts the engine.