< Book 2 Dyed Game
Book 2 Dyed Game
The specialist entered Emma’s bedroom, setting down her medical bag. “I’m Dr. Chen, the maternal stress management therapist Mr. Mitchell arranged.”
Emma smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry you came all this way, but I didn’t request a therapist.”
“Your grandfather was quite insistent,” Dr. Chen replied, unperturbed. “Something about ‘managing Mitchell stubbornness before it affects the baby.”
Despite her initial resistance, Emma found herself engaging with Dr. Chen’s practical approach. The session focused on concrete stress–reduction techniques she could implement from bed rest–breathing exercises, modified meditation, even specialized visualization for high–achieving patients who found traditional rxation methods frustrating.
“It’s not about stopping work,” Dr. Chen exined, sensing Emma’s primary concern. “It’s about creating mental boundaries around stressors you can’t eliminate.”
By the end of the hour, Emma had to admit she felt calmer. The constant background tension of managing team operations while growing a high–risk pregnancy had eased slightly.
“Same time Thursday?” Dr. Chen suggested, packing her materials.
“Actually, yes,” Emma decided. “Thank you.”
After the therapist left, Emma realized her grandfather’s “line change” was already in progress. <i>Beyond </i>Dr. Chen, she’d noticed other subtle shifts–additional administrative staff appearing to manage household logistics, a dedicated assistant handling Franklin’s medical scheduling separately from his business matters, even meal preparation reorganized to reduce kitchen traffic during rest hours.
All changes reducing Alek’s daily burden without directly suggesting he needed help.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Katie: Feeling much better today! Tim’s mother arrived to help with the kids. Your grandfather sent FLOWERS to my house? How did he even get my address?
Emmaughed, typing back: Franklin Mitchell has mysterious ways. Best not to question them. d you’re feeling better!
Katie replied immediately: You have a remarkable family. Also, is Alek OK? He seemed exhausted yesterday.
The observation confirmed Emma’s concerns. If even Katie, in her own medical distress, had
< Book 2 Dyed Game
noticed Alek’s fatigue, the situation was worse than he was admitting.
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Emma called Lisa, implementing her own contribution to Franklin’s line change strategy. “I need your help with something.”
“Name it,” Lisa replied immediately.
“Alek’s taking on too much. I need you to reassign some of his immediate responsibilities- quietly, without making it obvious we’re lightening his load.”
“Already on it,” Lisa surprised her. “Your grandfather called yesterday. We’ve redistributed next week’s meetings and postponed the Montreal trip.”
Emma smiled, shaking her head at Franklin’s efficiency. “Of course he did.”
“Should I tell Alek the changes came from you?” Lisa asked.
“No,” Emma decided. “Let him think it’s standard reorganization.”
That evening, Emma finally convinced Alek to take a night off from his
hospital–CEO–caretaker rotation. They settled in bed watching old hockey games, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest.
“Katie looked better today,” he mentioned, fingers absently stroking Emma’s hair. “Color back
in her cheeks.”
“Mmm,” Emma agreed. “She mentioned you seemed tired, though.”
Alek tensed slightly. “I’m fine.”
“You always say that,” Emma pointed out. “Even when you’re running on empty.”
“Someone needs <i>to </i>keep everything moving,” he replied, echoing his earlier sentiment.
Emma sat up, facing him. “That someone doesn’t always have to be you. We have team executives, household staff, medical professionals–all capable people who can help carry
the load.”
“It’s my responsibility,” Alek insisted. “You’re on bed rest. Franklin’s health is precarious. The team is mid–season. Someone has to-”
<i>“</i>Someone has to recognize when they’re reaching their limits,” Emma interrupted gently. “Before they crashpletely.”
Alek fell silent, the truth of her words settling between them. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Perhaps I have been pushing too hard.”
< Book 2 Dyed Game
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“Perhaps?” Emma raised an eyebrow. “Alek, you’re working full–time while managing two medical situations and a household staff of twelve. You’re not superhuman.”
“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted. “For the baby.”
Emma ced her hand on his cheek. “What this baby needs most is a father who’s present and healthy, not exhausted from trying to control everything.”
The conversation seemed to reach him, and that night Alek slept deeply for the first time in weeks, Emma curled protectively beside him.
Which made it all the more shocking when, during his press conference the following afternoon, he copsed mid–sentence on live television.
Emma was on a video call with the leaguemissioner when Franklin’s day nurse burst into her room. “Mr. Volkov has copsed at the arena! They’re taking him to Mass General!”
The world seemed to tilt sideways as Emma ended her call without exnation, hands shaking as she called Lisa.
“I’m already on my way to the hospital,” Lisa confirmed. “Security caught him before he hit the ground. Early reports suggest exhaustion and dehydration, nothing more serious.”
“I need to be there,” Emma insisted, already trying to get out of bed.
“Absolutely not,” Franklin’s voice came from the doorway, his expression unusually stern. “You will remain exactly where you are. Walter is driving me to the hospital now. I will personally oversee Aleksander’s care and keep you updated every fifteen minutes.”
“Grandpa, I can’t just—<b>” </b>
“You can and you will,” Franklin interrupted firmly. “Your job right now is to remain calm and protect that baby. My job is to make sure your stubborn husband receives proper care. Division of responsibilities, Emma. Basic management principle.”
Despite her frustration, Emma recognized the wisdom in his words. Her blood pressure had already spiked with the news–she could feel the pounding in her temples.
“Every fifteen minutes,” she insisted. “And video calls once he’s conscious.”
“Agreed.” Franklin’s expression softened slightly. “He’s going to be fine, Emmy. Men like Aleksander don’t fall easily.”
After they left, Emma found herself in the strange position of organizing resources from her bed. She called team management to arrange coverage for Alek’s responsibilities<b>, </b>contacted their doctors to coordinate care rmendations, even arranged for Katie to bring clothes
<Book 2 Dyed Game
and personal items to the hospital since she lived nearby.
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By evening, the crisis had stabilized. Alek had indeed copsed from severe exhaustion and dehydration, exacerbated by skipping meals and minimal sleep over several weeks. The doctors were keeping him overnight for observation but expected full recovery with proper
rest.
“You scared me half to death,” Emma told him during their video call, his face pale against the hospital pillows.
“I scared myself,” Alek admitted, humbled by the experience. “One moment I was answering questions about roster changes, the next, darkness.”
“This is exactly what I’ve been worried about,” Emma said. “You can’t keep going like this.”
“Message received,” Alek replied ruefully. “Your grandfather has already informed me I’m on mandatory reduced duties for two weeks, by order of the majority shareholder.”
Emma smiled despite her concern. “And you’re actually going toply?”
“After today? Yes.” Alek’s expression turned serious. “Emma, I’m sorry. I was so focused on taking care of everyone that I neglected my own health. That doesn’t help anyone.”
“No,” Emma agreed. “It doesn’t. So from now on, we do this together. Delegating, epting help, recognizing our limits. All of it.”
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“Together,” Alek promised. “No more solo heroics.”
The irony wasn’t lost <i>on </i>either of them–that it had taken his copse to finally convince Alek of what Emma had been saying for weeks. Sometimes the game had to be dyed before yers recognized they needed rest.
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