Chapter 255: I Became Another Kain

Hearing that, knowing I actually had a chance to head back to Reid and Sarah, made a sudden, massive wave of relief wash straight through my chest. The heavy, suffocating weight that had been crushing my soul since I stepped through the gate finally dissolved.

"So," I said, taking a step closer to her chaotic desk, leaning my hands on the cluttered wood. "How does this work? Who do I become? And how soon can you send me back?"

The author tapped the gel pen against her chin, her eyes squinting at the glowing laptop screen as she clicked through character profiles.

"Okay, here’s the game plan," she said, her fingers back to tapping away at the keyboard, though much less frantically now. "I can’t just drop your soul into a random corpse; that’s creepy. But... I did write a side character a few arcs back. An omega named Kain who happens to be in a deep coma at a private clinic right outside Seattle. Wealthy family, tragic accident, brain-dead status... until now."

My eyes widened slightly. "A coma patient? With my exact name?"

"Hey, don’t judge; authors get lazy with side character names sometimes!" she defended quickly, waving her pen at me. "Besides, it makes it easier for you! Same name, similar age, good looks—I wouldn’t give my favorite Captain a downgrade. And the best part? His family always kept him completely isolated, so no one in the hockey world or the public even knows he exists yet."

"And Reid?" I asked, my voice dropping into a quiet, desperate line. "How long has it been for him? How is Sarah?"

The author’s expression softened, a rare flash of genuine sympathy cutting through her caffeine-fueled haze. She scrolled down the current draft, her eyes scanning the text.

"Right now, after you stepped through... It’s been almost eight months since you passed," she murmured softly. "Reid retired completely. He’s living at the beachside lodge with Brad and your family helping out. He doesn’t go to work—not yet, since he still isn’t over his grief. He’s... he’s raising Sarah. She has your eyes, Cap. He looks at her every single day and sees you."

A lump formed in my throat, a sharp sting behind my eyes as I swallowed down the rising emotion. Eight months. Eight months of Reid grieving alone, holding our daughter and wishing I was there.

"Send me back," I demanded, looking my ’god’ dead in the eye, my voice firm with the authority of a team captain who refused to lose. "Right now."

"Hold your horses, Big Guy, I’m writing the soul-transfer scene right now!" she said, her fingers becoming a blur over the keys once more. "Now, remember the rules: your new body is going to be weak at first. Muscle atrophy is a real thing. You’ll have to do physical therapy, and you can’t just march up to Reid’s front door day one shouting ’I’m back from the dead!’ He’d think he was losing his mind."

"I don’t care about the recovery," I said, a determined smirk tugging at the corner of my lips for the first time since I died. "I’ve recovered from broken bones, torn ligaments, and a ruined core. A little muscle weakness isn’t going to stop me from getting back to my family."

"That’s the spirit!" The author grinned wildly, hitting the Enter key with a loud, dramatic clack.

Instantly, the white void around us began to flicker. The stacks of paper, the empty coffee mugs, and the messy desk started dissolving into streaks of blinding light.

"Wait!" I called out over the sudden, rushing wind. "What about you? Will I ever see you again?"

"God forbid!" she yelled back over the noise, giving me a two-finger salute with her gel pen. "If I see you here again anytime soon, it means I failed my deadline! Now go get your Alpha and your baby! And tell Reid I said sorry for making him cry so much!"

The white space shattered.

The sound of frantic typing vanished, replaced instantly by the rhythmic, steady beep... beep... beep... of a heart monitor. The sterile smell of hospital disinfectant flooded my senses, and for the first time in eight agonizing months, air rushed sharply into my lungs.

I opened my eyes.

As I forced my eyes open, the dim, warm ambient lighting of a lavish private hospital suite slowly bled into view.

Silk sheets. Hand-carved mahogany panels. A wall of floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over a private estate garden.

This was definitely not a standard medical ward.

"Wait, wait, wait!" a manic whisper echoed directly inside my head, making my brow furrow. The author’s voice sounded like she was leaning right up against my eardrum through a static-filled headset. "Minor detail I forgot to mention while I was caffeine-crashing! Okay, so this Kain isn’t just wealthy—he’s the sole heir to a multi-billion-dollar shipping conglomerate, the Samson Corporation!"

I blinked at the ceiling, trying to move my tongue, which felt like sandpaper. ...A shipping empire?

"Yes!" she squeaked in my mind, the sound of frantic keyboard clicking clattering in the background. "His family is insanely powerful, fiercely protective, and they literally cherish him like a delicate glass prince. The reason he’s been hidden away in this private clinic for three years wasn’t just the coma—it was because his original body was gravely, incurably ill from birth!"

I tried to wiggle my toes. To my absolute shock, instead of the hollow, withered numbness I expected from three years of bedrest, a surge of warmth and strength rushed straight down my limbs.

"And thanks to a little... divine authorial magic," she added, her tone shifting into a proud, chest-puffing flex, "I rewritten his genetic code! No more incurable blood disease, no more frail lungs! You’re completely, 100% healthy now, Cap! Consider it your sign-on bonus for enduring my angsty plot twists."

I was still digesting the information when a soft gasp shattered the quiet room.

"K-Kain...?"

I turned my head toward the bedside. An impeccably dressed, elegant woman in a tailored silk dress dropped her designer handbag straight onto the floor. Her eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears as she stared at me in total, disbelieving shock.

"Doctor! Call the chief of medicine right now!" she sobbed, rushing forward to grab my hand with trembling, manicured fingers. "My baby is awake! The miracle happened!"

I looked down at our joined hands, then up at the lavish chandelier overhead. The contrast was absurd—I went from being a retired hockey captain who died during pregnancy to a cherished, silver haired billionaire glass prince who had just miraculously cheated death.

Not a bad upgrade, I thought, a small, amused smirk tugging at the corner of my lips as my heart hammered against my ribs.

Now, I just had to figure out how a resurrected billionaire heir was going to convince Reid McCoy that his long-lost husband was standing right in front of him.