Chapter 5

From that night forward, the main mats lit up every night after ten.

I worked with Leo, sharpening his footwork, breaking down tape of his opponents until our shirts were soaked in sweat.

Our bodies were exhausted, but our spirits were rock-solid.

Chad's patience, on the other hand, was completely worn through.

A few days later, my phone rang. It was the landlord, Mr. Henderson. Because I had always handled the facility's operations, he had my number on speed dial.

"Cole, where is this month's rent?"

"You're three days past due! If that wire doesn't hit my account by tomorrow, I'm locking the doors and starting eviction proceedings!"

His tone was ruthless.

"Mr. Henderson, please, we hit a small administrative snag. I will personally sort it out within forty-eight hours."

I talked him down while my mind raced.

The second I hung up, I grabbed Max.

He confirmed my worst fear: Chad hadn't just stiffed the landlord; he hadn't paid the electric bill or the commercial water utilities either.

Every penny of cash flow had been poured into the bottomless pit of his margin trading account.

Worse, registration for the State Championship closed tomorrow afternoon, and the fighters' entry fees were still unpaid.

Chad was burning the ship down with all of us trapped inside.

Right on cue, Chloe came looking for me again.

This time, the smug arrogance was gone, replaced by frantic exhaustion.

"Cole, can you please tell the coaches to just sign the damn papers?"

"Chad is in talks with massive venture capital firms. As soon as the internal staff is locked down, millions of dollars are going to flood in."

I looked at her as if she were a total stranger.

"By 'investors,' do you mean Chad himself?"

Her face paled. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head.

"Go tell him this: if he wants signatures, fine."

"Tell him to pay the overdue rent, settle the utilities, and pay for the kids' tournament entries. Until then, there's nothing to talk about."

"You!" Chloe gasped, outraged. "Are you threatening me? Cole, don't you dare forget—this gym belongs to me!"

"Not for much longer," I said quietly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" she shrieked.

I didn't waste another second on her and turned to walk away.

Chloe wasn't wearing her trendy athleisure today. She was in a wrinkled blouse, with dark circles bruised under her eyes.

She stood frozen, twisting her purse strap nervously, rehearsing her words before running after me.

"Cole, wait!" She grabbed my forearm, her voice cracking into a desperate plea. "I'm begging you, okay? Just help me out this once."

Looking into her eyes, all I saw was a shallow obsession with the fantasy of high society.

In that instant, the very last trace of affection I had held for her vanished into dust.

I pulled my arm free, enunciating every word:

"You chose this path. Good luck walking it."

Back in my apartment, I fired up my laptop, printed out the financial statements and trading logs, and slipped them into the spine of an old coaching binder on my desk.

Tomorrow, it would strike the final blow.