The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 231

My breath caught in my throat as shock paralyzed me, watching the screams die on her lips as she stared up in shock. The sight of Bruce, his features twisted with a mix of horror and regret, sent a shiver down my spine.

“What have you done?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, my mind reeling from

the suddenness and brutality of the act.

Bruce stood there, aghast at his own actions, his hands shaking as he stared at Stella’s prone form on the ground. Guilt and remorse etched lines of anguish on his face, a stark contrast to the violence he had just committed.

The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The silence that

followed was punctuated only by the sound of ragged breaths and the distant wail of sirens.

I was frozen in shock and horror, my mind struggling to process the gruesome scene unfolding before me. It was getting to a point where I couldn’t stomach the violence.

Stella lay on the floor, her cries of pain piercing the silence, blood seeping from the wound that had torn through her.

“Help her, do something!” I pleaded, my voice cracking with urgency as I rested my gaze on Stella’s quivering form. The gash had been just inches from her protruding stomach, and I winced at the damage that could’ve been done to the child growing inside.

Bruce’s ego clashed with the urgency of the situation. His wounded pride seemed to cloud his judgment, his reluctance evident as he stood there, motionless.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bruce retorted sharply, still holding up a façade and trying to mask the panic that flickered in his eyes.

Stella’s cries reverberated through the room as she rolled across the ground and clutched her stomach. With trembling hands, she reached for the knife embedded in her abdomen.

“No, Stella, don’t!” I cried out in horror. “That could make it worse!”

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Regardless of my warnings, she attempted to tear the knife out, and I feared it would worsen the bleeding. Thankfully, she seemed to give up after a few tugs, already winded from the pain.

A sense of helplessness washed over me as Bruce, in a frenzied panic, abruptly shut off the camera and stage lights. The room plunged into darkness, the only sound being Stella’s agonized sobs echoing through the suffocating space.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I looked at Bruce, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “Bruce, please! You have to help her,” I implored, my voice quivering with desperation.

I grasped at straws, trying to evoke any emotional response from him. “She’s pregnant, Bruce. She’s carrying a baby,” I pleaded, hoping that the mention of an innocent life would stir some compassion

within him.

But my

on deaf ears, Bruce’s gaze cold and unyielding.

Stella was moving again. Still curled up, she had her phone

fingers raced across the screen and tears filled her

to prevent her from making the call. His actions were swift and impulsive, unaware

the screen displaying Timothy’s

senses. Timothy’s name flashed on the screen. I concealed my reaction, absorbing the information like a lifeline, a

interjected casually, masking the urgency in my voice, “you need to get help down here

basement. It doesn’t have to be a doctor, but someone needs to come and

tightened on Stella, his expression darkening as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. His panic and desperation were palpable, clouding his judgment as he

of exposure.

distress escalated as she struggled against Bruce’s hold, her cries echoing through

gravity of the moment weighing heavy on all of us.

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out, his

you, Evie. I can’t have

my spine. His cold,

seeping into my bones.

Bruce,” I retorted, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.

about this. I can

of uncertainty betraying the facade of resolve he tried to uphold. His expression wavered and he balled

room fell int

silence, the weight of

learning toward him. “Let someone help Stella. We can

out together.”

“Would you just shut up! I’m trying to

his warnings, I went on, prepared to crack the surface. “You have a soft side somewhere in there,”

his facade. That seemed to tug at something within him, a trace of empathy trying

more at a loss when his suddenly

eyes

on the ground, Timothy’s name written on the screen in bold. The timer for the call had reached five minutes, and Timothy had been. patient enough to hang onto every word. In a panic, Bruce abruptly seized Stella’s phone and

Timothy had grasped the situation and that my subtle hints would guide him somewhere. Even with him disconnected, my mention of Stella should

fixed upon Stella. My

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