CHAPTER 29
Jul 10, 2025
KAT’S POV
The text from Papa came early the next morning: “My office. 9 AM. We need to discuss your recent behavior.”
I stared at the message, my stomach clenching with familiar anxiety. There was no question mark, no “please” or “when you have time.” Just a command, delivered in the same tone he’d used when I was eight years old and had fallen during a competition.
I found myself standing outside the door to his temporary office at the athletic complex at exactly nine o’clock, my hand raised to knock. For a moment, I hesitated, remembering all the times I’d stood in similar doorways, waiting to be judged, evaluated, found wanting.
But this time felt different. This time, I wasn’t the scared little girl desperate for approval. This time, I had something to lose that was worth fighting for.
I knocked twice and entered without waiting for permission.
“Katya,” Papa said, not looking up from the papers on his desk. “Sit down.”
I remained standing. “What did you want to discuss?”
He finally looked up, and I could see the cold anger in his eyes that I’d learned to fear as a child. “Nathaniel came to see me yesterday evening.”
My blood turned to ice. “Did he?”
“Yes. He told me some very interesting things about your relationship with him.” Papa’s voice was clipped, professional. “He said that your entire relationship was fabricated. Is this true?”
I felt my throat go dry, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Papa’s voice rose with incredulity. “You lied to me? You allowed me to train that boy under false pretenses?”
“We needed—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Papa interrupted, standing up abruptly. His chair scraped against the floor with a harsh sound that made me flinch. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you understand the position you’ve put me in?”
“Papa, I can explain—”
“Explain?” He began pacing behind his desk, his hands clenched at his sides. “Explain how my daughter, who I raised to understand the importance of integrity and honesty, decided to manipulate me for months?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said, my voice growing smaller despite my efforts to remain strong.
“Wasn’t it?” Papa stopped pacing and fixed me with a stare that made me feel like I was eight years old again. “You created an elaborate lie, involved an innocent boy in your deception, and made me look like a fool to my colleagues. How exactly was it different?”
“We both needed something,” I said desperately. “I needed social protection at this school, and Nate needed—”
“Nate needed access to my training methods,” Papa finished coldly. “Yes, he told me everything. How he researched my coaching philosophy, how he used your fake relationship to get close to me, how you both played me like a violin.”
I felt tears starting to sting my eyes. “Papa, I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” His voice was like ice. “Katya, this is exactly the same pattern of behavior that got you expelled from Wintercrest Academy.”
The mention of my former school hit me like a physical blow. “That’s not fair. What happened at Wintercrest was completely different.”
“Was it?” Papa demanded, moving around his desk to face me directly. “Once again, you’ve found yourself at the center of a scandal involving inappropriate relationships and poor judgment. Once again, you’ve made choices that reflect poorly on our family name.”
“The situation with Coach Morrison wasn’t my fault,” I said, my voice shaking with anger and hurt. “He was the adult, he was the one in a position of power, and he was the one who acted inappropriately. I was the victim in that situation.”
“And yet, here you are again,” Papa said mercilessly. “Creating drama, involving yourself with boys who bring nothing but complications to your life, jeopardizing your athletic career for the sake of teenage relationships.”
“I’m not jeopardizing anything,” I protested. “My skating is still my priority—”
“Is it?” Papa challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re more interested in playing house with these Carter boys than you are in preparing for Olympic evaluation.”
“That’s not true,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure I believed them anymore.
“Isn’t it?” Papa’s voice grew sharper. “You’ve been distracted, unfocused, spending more time on romantic drama than on your training. Your technique has been sloppy, your commitment questionable.”
“My skating is fine,” I said defensively.
“Your skating is adequate,” Papa corrected. “And adequate won’t get you to the Olympics, Katya. The committee is looking for athletes who are completely dedicated, who put their sport above everything else. They don’t want distractions.”
“So you want me to give up any chance at a normal life? Any chance at love or friendship or happiness that doesn’t revolve around figure skating?”
“I want you to remember what your priorities should be,” Papa said firmly. “I want you to remember everything we’ve sacrificed to get you to this point. Do you think it was easy for me to uproot my life and move here to support your training? Do you think the financial cost of your coaching and equipment and travel expenses means nothing?”
The guilt was familiar, heavy and suffocating. “I know you’ve sacrificed—”
“Then start acting like it,” Papa interrupted. “End this nonsense with the Carter boy immediately. Focus on your training. Prove to the Olympic committee that you’re serious about your career.”
“Which Carter boy?” I asked quietly.
Papa’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Katya. I know about your involvement with the older brother now. The whole school is talking about it.”
I felt something shift inside me at his dismissive tone. “His name is Liam.”
“I don’t care what his name is,” Papa said coldly. “I care that he’s another distraction, another poor decision in a growing pattern of poor decisions.”
“He’s not a distraction,” I said, my voice growing stronger. “He’s someone I care about.”
“Care about?” Papa’s voice was filled with disdain. “Katya, you barely know this boy. You’ve been infatuated with him for what, a few weeks? This isn’t love, it’s teenage foolishness.”
“You don’t know anything about what I feel for him,” I said, anger starting to replace the guilt and fear. “You’ve never bothered to ask what I want or how I feel about anything.”
“What you feel is irrelevant,” Papa said dismissively. “You’re eighteen years old. Your feelings are temporary, changeable, unimportant in the grand scheme of your life.”
“Unimportant?” I repeated, my voice rising. “My feelings are unimportant?”
“Compared to your Olympic potential? Yes, absolutely.” Papa’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if he was stating an obvious truth. “Personal relationships come and go, Katya. Olympic medals last forever.”
I stared at him, this man who had shaped every aspect of my life around his vision of success, and felt something break inside my chest.
“What if I don’t want an Olympic medal?” I said quietly.
Papa went completely still. “What did you say?”
“What if I don’t want to go to the Olympics?” I said, louder this time. “What if I want to skate because I love it, not because I have to prove something to a committee of strangers? What if I want to make my own choices about my life and my relationships?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Papa said, but I could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice.
“Am I?” I challenged. “Or am I finally being honest about what I actually want instead of what you’ve told me I should want?”
“Katya, you’re not thinking clearly—”
“I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years,” I interrupted. “Papa, I’m in love with Liam Carter.”
The words hung in the air between us, stark and honest and completely final.
“You think you’re in love,” Papa corrected coldly. “It’s infatuation, nothing more.”
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s love. Real, complicated, messy love. And yes, it’s distracting sometimes, and yes, it makes my life more complicated, but it also makes me happy in a way that skating never has.”
“Skating has brought you recognition, success, opportunities that most people can only dream of,” Papa said desperately.
“Skating has brought me pressure, expectations, and the constant fear that I’m never good enough,” I shot back. “When was the last time you asked me if I was happy, Papa? When was the last time my feelings mattered more than my scores?”
“Your feelings are a luxury we can’t afford,” Papa said, but his voice lacked its earlier conviction.
“They’re not a luxury,” I said. “They’re what make me human. And I’m tired of pretending they don’t exist just to make your vision of my life easier to manage.”
Papa stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him trying to process this version of his daughter – the one who was standing up to him, who was choosing her own path instead of following his carefully laid plans.
“If you continue down this path,” he said finally, his voice cold and controlled, “you will lose everything. The Olympic committee will pass you over for someone more dedicated. Your skating career will be over before it truly begins. And for what? For some boy who will probably leave you when he realizes the cost of being with you?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But that’s my choice to make.”
“You’re making a mistake, Katya. The biggest mistake of your life.”
“I’m making my own mistake,” I corrected. “For the first time in my life, I’m making a decision that’s entirely mine. And even if it’s wrong, even if I regret it, at least it will be my regret to carry.”
We stood there facing each other across his office, and I could see the exact moment when Papa realized he’d lost control of me. The moment when he understood that I wasn’t going to back down, wasn’t going to apologize, wasn’t going to beg for his forgiveness or approval.
“I’m not your project,” I said quietly, but my voice carried clearly in the silent room. “I never was. I’m your daughter, and I deserve to be loved for who I am, not for what I can achieve.”
I turned toward the door, my hand on the handle, when Papa’s voice stopped me.
“Kat, I’m sorry. You know I love you, don’t you?”
I paused, my hand still on the door handle, and for a moment I felt the familiar pull of tears threatening to spill. I turned around, rushed at him and embraced him tightly.
For the first time in my life, my Papa accepted defeat.
