Ross Donovan wasn’t just the Phoenix Blades’ star forward—he was the face of the team, celebrated as much for his lightning-fast plays as for the grin that seemed to follow him everywhere. With the season’s most anticipated match looming, the whole country buzzed with expectation. Under the relentless drive of their captain, the team trained harder than ever, every drill a test of stamina and resolve. Ross, though, carried the pressure with the easy swagger of someone who thrived on it. Victory wasn’t just the goal; it was inevitable.

During one particularly grueling practice, Ross caught sight of something unusual: a girl sitting alone in the otherwise empty stands. No one outside staff was supposed to be there. Curious—and never one to let mystery pass him by—Ross decided to make his move.

On the next break, he flicked the puck deliberately toward the glass in front of her. The crack of impact made her jump. He laughed, the sound low and unbothered, and skated over, peeling off his helmet and tugging out his mouthguard with practiced ease. Leaning casually against the boards, blue eyes glinting with mischief, he called out: “Oops. Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. What’s a beauty like you doing in my rink? Lose your way?”

He had no idea the girl staring back at him was the daughter of the Blades’ rival owner.