Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 18

BRAYDON’S POV

First thing I do after leaving the locker room is check Katy’s schedule. She’s packed again with four classes back–to–back, then debate practice. Seriously, does she know the meaning of fun? Or breaks? Or literally anything besides stressing herself out?

I swear, I don’t even know how many credits she’s taking, but it’s enough to make me tired just looking at it.

I sling my backpack higher on my shoulder, weaving through the crowd of students spilling across campus. Everyone’s heading in different directions, some with coffee cups glued to their hands, and others laughing way too loud for this early in the day. I’m just about to head to my own class when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, and my frown shows up instantly as my old man’s name flashes across the screen. Perfect. Just what I need before a 10 a.m. lecture.

I shove the phone back in my pocket, deciding he can wait. But before I even take four steps across the quad, it starts buzzing again. Goddamn it. He’s still persistent as always. A long sigh escapes me, fogging the cool morning air, before I finally answer.

“Hello?”

“Were you intentionally ignoring me?” He snaps, and I can picture him sitting in his study, his glasses perched low, and leaning back in that leather chair he treats like a throne.

“No,” I say flatly. “You do realize people have lives, right?”

There’s a pause, the kind where he probably counts to three so he doesn’t explode. Then a slow, deep breath filters through the line like he’s holding himself back.

“Have you checked your sss recently?”

“Which one?” I shoot back, already knowing I’m not going to like the answer.

“The company’s sss,” he says, his tone carrying that clipped impatience he saves just for me. “Why would I be concerned if you have others?”

And there it is…the father of the year award, shining bright. Sometimes I seriously wonder what my mom ever saw in him because this can’t possibly be the man she thought she’d spend her life with. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, pushing through the double doors of business admin building. “If you were even a little interested in my life, you’d know the hockey season is on.”

“There’s a transfer authorization you need to sign. One million. I need you to do it today.” He cuts in.

I stop dead in the middle of the hall.

A couple of students bump into me, tossing weird glances before sliding past and my grip on the phone tightens. “What did you just say? A million?”

“It’s for Margaret,” he answers. “She needs it. Do I need to explain further?”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “You’re asking me to pull a million out of Mom’s company for your second wife?”

Silence stretches on the other end. My jaw clenches, and the longer it drags, the more I want to reach through the phone and punch him. He really thinks I’ll authorize this transfer? That I’m some pushover? And for what, Margaret? Did she put him up to this? She probably did and it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s for Bryan too.

“You’re not the only one in charge of that company,” he finally responds. “I was-”

“But mum trusted me with it,” I cut him off. “I’m not signing off a million just so Margaret can pad her lifestyle.”

His voice drops. “Watch yourself. Refusing me isn’t just disobedience, it’s disrespect.”

I inhale slowly, forcing my shoulders down. “Then take it as both. I’m not signing. You’ve already tried enough schemes to rip this company out from under me, and we had a deal. If I pass my courses, I become the CEO and you back off. If I don’t, I let go. So until I graduate, I’m not authorizing a damn thing.”

I wait for his response, but there’s nothing but static for a beat, then a sharp click as he hangs up.

I lower the phone, staring at the dark screen before scoffing under my breath. The nerve of that old man. And Margaret? She’d better watch herself because I know she’s the demon pulling his strings.

Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I start toward the lecture hall. My head is still buzzing with anger, but I’m trying to shove it down because the last thing I need is to drag my father’s mess into class.

Just as I’m about to push open the door, a familiar voice grates on my nerves.

“Well, if it isn’t golden boy.”

I pause. Of course, it has to be Bryan because clearly, the universe isn’t done screwing with me today.

He steps into my path, smirking and my irritation spikes, my grip tightening around the strap of my backpack. First my father calls about a million–dollar transfer for his trophy wife, and now this guy?

I glance upward for half a second, wondering if God, fate, or whoever’s running the show is just screwing with me for fun.

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