<b>Book 2 </b>Bonus Chapter 2


    +25 Points


    Franklin took hisst breath at 6:47 AM, just as the morning sun fully illuminated the garden he’d spent forty years tending. Charlotte was sleeping in Emma’s arms, and baby Frankie had finally settled against Alek’s chest. The monitors stopped their steady beeping, reced by a silence so profound it seemed to echo through the entire mansion.


    Emma felt the exact moment her grandfather left them–not from the machines, but from the sudden emptiness in the room, as if all the warmth had been sucked away despite the morning sunshine streaming through the windows.


    “He’s


    gone,” she whispered, the words feeling impossible even as she spoke them.


    Alek reached across Franklin’s still form to squeeze her hand. “He waited for the sunrise. He wanted to see one more morning with them.”


    Dr. Singh appeared as if summoned, moving with quiet efficiency to turn off the monitors and begin the necessary procedures. But she paused first, cing a gentle hand on Franklin’s forehead.


    “He was a remarkable man,” she said softly. “In thirty years of medicine, I’ve rarely seen someone fight so hard to stay for the people they loved.”


    Emma couldn’t respond. Speech felt impossible when her entire world had just shifted on its axis. Franklin had been her anchor, her guide, her biggest supporter and fiercest critic. The idea of navigating life without his voice seemed iprehensible.


    “The babies,” she managed to say. “Should we move them?”


    “Let them stay a few more minutes,” Dr. Singh advised kindly. “Children understand more than we think. They should have time to say goodbye too.”


    As if sensing the change in the room’s energy, Charlotte opened her eyes and looked directly at Franklin’s peaceful face. She didn’t cry–instead, she reached out one tiny hand toward her great–grandfather, her expression unusually solemn for an infant.


    “She knows,” Alek observed, his own voice rough with unshed tears.


    Emma stood carefully, carrying Charlotte to Franklin’s bedside. “Say goodbye to Grandpa Franklin,


    sweetheart,” she whispered. “Tell him you’ll remember his stories.”


    Charlotte stared at Franklin’s face for a long moment, then made a soft cooing sound–the same happy noise she’d made whenever he sang to her. It was as if she was trying to sing back to him onest time.


    Baby Frankie stirred in Alek’s arms, and they brought him close as well. Unlike his sister’s solemn response, Frankie began to fuss, as if he could sense that something important was missing from their family circle.


    “He always got upset when Franklin stopped talking during visits,” Emma remembered. “Even at three


    Book 2 Bonus Chapter 2


    weeks old, he seemed to recognize his great–grandfather’s voice.”


    +25 Points


    Walter appeared in the doorway, his usuallyposed demeanor cracking as he saw Franklin’s still form. The elderly valet had served the Mitchell family for over thirty years, and losing Franklin was like losing a brother.


    “Sir Franklin would want you to know,” Walter said, his voice barely steady, “that all the arrangements have been made ording to his wishes. He nned everything so you wouldn’t have <i>to </i>worry about details during your grief.”


    Of course he had, Emma thought. Even in dying, Franklin was taking care of his family.


    “What did he arrange?” Alek asked gently, recognizing that Emma wasn’t ready to handle logistics.


    “Private service at St. Paul’s, where he married Mrs. Eleanor,” Walter replied. “Burial beside her in Mount Auburn Cemetery. Reception here at the house afterward. He wrote his own eulogy and asked that it be read instead of traditional service.”


    Emma finally found her voice. “He wrote his own eulogy?”


    Walter nodded, producing a sealed envelope from his jacket. “He said it would be easier for everyone if he spoke for himself onest time. His words, not our grief.”


    The next few hours passed in a blur of necessary tasks. The funeral home arrived to care for Franklin’s body. Natasha flew in from New York, her medical training helping her assist with arrangements while her personal grief remained carefully controlled. Phone calls were made to family friends, business associates, and team management.


    Through it all, Emma felt disconnected from her own actions, as if she was watching someone else handle her grandfather’s death. The babies provided the only anchor to reality–their needs for feeding, changing, andfort continued regardless of the family’s loss.


    “I need to call the NHL board,” Alek said quietly that afternoon as Emma nursed Frankie in Franklin’s study. “To let them know about the funeral timing.”


    Emma nodded absently, then a thought struck her. “What about the Commissioner position? Will Franklin’s death affect your start date?”


    “They’ll understand if we need to dy,” Alek assured her. “Familyes first.”


    But Emma could see the worry in his eyes. The NHL was a business, even in times of personal loss. <fn8257> Content originallyes from F?nd-Novel</fn8257>


    Dying his start couldplicate an alreadyplex transition.


    “No,” she decided firmly. “Franklin would be furious if his death derailed your opportunity. He nned the service quickly for a reason.”


    “Emma, you don’t have to-<b>” </b>


    “Yes, I do,” she interrupted. “Grandpa spent hisst weeks restructuring his business so we could move to


    New York. He would haunt us both if we let his death undo that work.”


    Book a Bonus Chapter 2


    +25 Point


    Katie arrived that evening with dinner for the household and gentlepétence that Emma hade to depend on. She took charge of the babies‘ evening routine while Emma and Alek focused on funeral


    preparations.


    “How are you really doing?” Katie asked when she found Emma standing in Franklin’s empty bedroom, staring at his reading chair.


    “I keep expecting him to startining about something,” Emma admitted. “The hospital bed blocking


    his view of the garden, or the nurses fussing too much. The silence feels wrong”


    Katie nodded understandingly. “When my father died, I used to call his phone just to hear his voicemail


    message. Grief makes us look for the person in all the ces they used to be.”


    “Did it get easier?” Emma asked.


    “Different,” Katie replied honestly. “Not easier, but different. The sharp pain bes a gentle ache, and


    eventually, the ache bes a warm feeling when you remember good times.”


    That night, as Emma and Aleky in bed with both babies sleeping between them–a arrangement that had


    be theirfort during Franklin’s final weeks–Emma finally allowed herself to truly feel the


    magnitude of her loss.


    “I don’t know how to be a Mitchell without him,” she confessed into the darkness.


    Alek’s hand found hers across the babies. “You don’t have to be the same kind of Mitchell he was. You just


    have to be the kind of Mitchell these babies need.”


    “What if I make mistakes? What if I forget important family stories or traditions?”


    “Then we’ll make new stories and traditions,” Alek replied firmly. “Franklin didn’t want you to be him,


    Emma. He wanted you to be you–just with the foundation he provided.”


    Emma thought about this, feeling some of the panic ease. Franklin had spent hisst weeks giving her


    tools, not expectations. His restructured businesses, his letters of guidance, his stories about family


    history–all of it was meant to support her choices, not limit them.


    “The babies won’t remember him,” she said sadly.


    “They’ll know him through your stories,” Alek countered. “Through the values you teach them, the strength


    you show them, the love you give them. Franklin will live in every decision you make as their mother.”


    As if proving his point, Charlotte stirred in her sleep and instinctively reached toward Emma, her tiny hand


    finding her mother’s face. Even in dreams, she sought thefort and security that would carry Franklin’s legacy forward.


    Emma pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead, then reached to stroke baby Frankie’s dark hair. Tomorrow would bring the funeral, the formal goodbye, the beginning of life without Franklin’s physical


    presence.


    But tonight, surrounded by the family he’d helped them create, Emma began to understand what Franklin


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    had tried to tell her in his final days. The Mitchell legacy wasn’t a burden to carry–it was a foundation to


    build upon.


    And she would build something extraordinary, exactly as he’d always believed she would.


    The empty in hockey urs when a team pulls their goalie for an extra attacker, leaving their goal undefended in a desperate attempt to score. It’s a moment of maximum vulnerability and maximum possibility.


    That’s how Emma felt now–undefended without Franklin’s guidance, but with infinite possibility stretching ahead for her children and their children after them.


    The game wasn’t over. It was just entering a new phase, with different yers but the same fundamental goal: to love, to protect, and to build somethingsting for the next generation.


    Franklin had taught her how to y. Now it was her turn to coach.