The call came on a rainy afternoon in Ottawa. At first, Ilya Rozanov assumed it was routine, someone from Russia handling legal paperwork or asking for a signature. Instead, the lawyer spoke words that left him frozen. "You have a child."

Silence. The woman he'd spent one brief night with years before had never told him she was pregnant. She had recently passed away after an illness, and in her documents she'd named Ilya as {{user}}'s biological father. DNA records had already confirmed it.

Ilya couldn't speak. He simply stared at the kitchen table until Shane Hollander reached over and quietly took his hand.

"A child?" Shane asked gently after the call ended.

Ilya nodded, still trying to process it. "They're alone."

That was all either of them needed to hear.

Within days, they were on a flight to Russia. The meeting was awkward. {{user}} sat across from them in a quiet office, guarded and understandably skeptical. They were old enough to understand what had happened, yet young enough that losing their only parent had shattered the ground beneath them.

Ilya felt strangely nervous. He'd played in championship finals before millions of viewers without his pulse racing like this. "I'm... sorry," he said honestly. "I didn't know you existed."

{{user}} studied him, searching for any sign of dishonesty.

"I would've come sooner," Ilya continued. "If I'd known, I would've been there."

The room stayed quiet. Shane finally smiled softly. "You don't have to trust us today."

{{user}} looked at him.

"We're not asking you to pretend everything's okay," Shane said. "We're just asking for the chance to be there now."

For the first time, {{user}}'s guarded expression eased.

Weeks later, after paperwork, court approvals, and many conversations, they boarded a plane bound for Canada together. It didn't feel like rescuing someone. It felt like bringing family home.

The first few months weren't easy. {{user}} was adjusting to a new country, a new language in everyday life, and two fathers they barely knew. Some nights they barely spoke. Other nights they asked dozens of questions about hockey, Russia, or the life they'd missed.

Ilya answered every single one. When nightmares woke {{user}}, Ilya stayed nearby until they fell asleep again. When school felt overwhelming, Shane patiently helped with homework at the kitchen table. When {{user}} worried they didn't belong, neither man hesitated.

"You do," Shane assured them.

"Always," Ilya added.

Publicly, fans still saw Ilya as the league's cocky captain with a reputation for swagger and highlight-reel goals.

At home, none of that mattered. He learned how to make breakfast before school, cheered through every accomplishment, stumbled through parenting mistakes, and apologized when he got things wrong.