Chapter 2

Chloe chimed in immediately. "Cole, Chad's vision is lightyears ahead of yours."

"He's hiring an elite international coaching staff. He's turning this place into a luxury athletic club."

"Your old-school, blue-collar methods should've been thrown out years ago."

"A luxury club?" I finally spoke, my voice as calm as still water.

"Fighting is about grit, sweat, and heart. It's not a playground for rich kids looking for an aesthetic."

"Stubborn dinosaur," Chad sneered.

"How much is your cheap sentimentality worth on the open market?"

"Hype and venture capital are king. Look at you—three years of grinding, and your peak achievement is a regional belt."

"Once I take over, I guarantee we'll have a National Champion walking out of here within six months."

He stood up, walked right into my space, and clapped a heavy, patronizing hand on my shoulder.

"Think bigger, kid. Go teach the toddlers. It'll tame that chip on your shoulder. Consider it a favor."

I didn't flinch. I let his hand rest there.

"And if I refuse?" I looked him dead in the eye.

Chad's smile vanished, his face hardening. "Refuse? Chloe is the legal owner, and she's given me full power of attorney."

"My word is law here. You either take the assignment, or you pack your locker and get the hell out."

Chloe backed him up instantly. "Cole, don't be an ungrateful fool."

"Without my seed money back then, you couldn't have even leased the mats."

"Fine," I said softly.

Both Chloe and Chad froze, clearly not expecting me to fold so easily.

Smug satisfaction flooded Chad's face.

"Smart boy. Report to Toddler Group A tomorrow morning."

With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed me.

Before leaving my office, I slid open the bottom drawer to grab an old coaching notebook. My fingers brushed against a cold piece of brass.

The backup key to the security control room. When I installed the cameras three years ago, I had an extra key made.

I slipped it between the pages of the notebook and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off the muffled whispers of the fighters outside.

The next morning, I showed up right on time for Toddler Group A.

Six- to eight-year-olds whose parents just wanted them to burn off energy.

Dressed in standard gym gear, I patiently taught them basic stances, jabs, and balance.

Through the glass wall, I watched the main mats. An imported coach was putting my varsity fighters through flashy, useless acrobatic drills.

That was Chad's "international team," supposedly brought in on an exorbitant hourly rate.

Leo, my six-foot-three heavyweight prodigy, was awkwardly attempting those delicate moves, his face twisted in utter frustration and rebellion.

A few veteran coaches gathered by my side, sighing heavily.

"Coach Cole, this is absolute bullshit!" Mack, the oldest trainer who'd been with me since day one, gritted his teeth. "That clown doesn't know the first thing about real combat! Those fancy poses are just target practice in the ring!"

"Leo's fighting in the State Qualifiers next month! Training like this will ruin him!"

I gestured for him to stay calm. "Chad's in charge right now. Just roll with it."

"I can't stand it!" Sam, a younger trainer, flushed red with rage. "Who does this guy think he is, shoving you down to the kids' room? Without you, this place would've gone under ten times over!"

I patted his shoulder and dropped my voice.

"Patience. Let him enjoy his little victory for a few days."

"Keep an eye on the team. Especially Leo. Don't let them pick fights with the new guy, and don't let anyone get injured."

"Got it," Mack nodded. He looked puzzled, but his trust in me was absolute.

"I heard Rex Vance over at Iron Bear MMA is poaching our roster again, throwing crazy money around."

"Yeah, Rex is a vulture with deep pockets. Always playing dirty."

My hands paused for a fraction of a second, but I didn't comment.

My eyes never left the main mats—and the second-floor office window.