Chapter 3 - The Counter-Offensive
The Downtown Boxing Club was my sanctuary. Located in a converted brick warehouse, it smelled of sweat, leather, and old iron. It was the place where I had learned to channel my grief after my father passed away, transforming sorrow into discipline.
By 2:00 PM, the gym was buzzing with its usual afternoon crowd, but the atmosphere was tense. Marcus, my head coach—a burly man with a silver beard and a permanent scowl—walked over to me as I wrapped my hands by the ring.
"Maya, some suit-and-tie parasites were lurking around the entrance an hour ago," Marcus said, crossing his massive arms. " Handing out flyers to the parents of the kids in our youth program. Nasty stuff, girl. Claiming you're facing felony assault charges and that the gym isn't safe."
"Eleanor's moving fast," I muttered, tucking the end of the cloth wrap into my wrist. "She's trying to cut off my legs before I can step into the ring."
"You want me to handle them?" Marcus growled.
"No. We handle this legally and publicly," I said, jumping into the ring to shadowbox. "If we use force, we give them exactly what they want."
Before I could finish my first round of warm-ups, the heavy metal doors of the gym swung open. Ethan stepped inside, flanked by two men in expensive, dark gray suits. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses to hide what I suspected was a swelling black eye from his tumble against the bedframe the night before. He walked with a slight limp, but his posture was overflowing with unearned confidence.
"Look at this place," Ethan said loudly, his voice echoing over the sound of skipping ropes and heavy bags. "A playground for thugs. And to think, my wife prefers this dump to a proper home."
Marcus started to step forward, but I raised my hand, stopping him. I leaned against the ropes, looking down at Ethan. "You're violating your bail conditions just by being within a hundred feet of me, Ethan. I suggest you turn around before I call Officer Davis again."
Ethan took off his sunglasses, revealing a faint yellowing bruise along his cheekbone. He smirked. "The restraining order hasn't been finalized yet, Maya. And I'm just here as a representative of Vance Enterprises to deliver some paperwork."
One of the lawyers stepped forward, holding out a sleek leather folder. "Dr. Sterling, we have officially filed a petition with the probate court to freeze all accounts associated with the Sterling Estate pending a full investigation into your father’s mental competency at the time of the will's signing. You no longer have access to the capital required to fund this facility or your upcoming property developments."
I didn't take the folder. Instead, I grabbed my phone from the corner of the ring and unlocked it. A notification from Sarah Jenkins had just arrived. It contained a PDF document—the preliminary forensic audit of Vance Enterprises.
I skimmed through the pages, a slow smile spreading across my face.
"You guys really should have checked your own books before you came down here," I said, resting my elbows on the top rope. "According to the financial records my team just pulled from your publicly traded holdings, Vance Enterprises is currently leveraged to the absolute limit. You owe over twelve million dollars to a private offshore lending consortium, and the maturity date is... let's see... next Friday."
Ethan's smirk instantly vanished. The two lawyers shifted uncomfortably on their feet.
"You thought my father's waterfront property would be an easy flip to pay off your shadow debts," I continued, my voice sharp and clear so everyone in the gym could hear. "You didn't marry me because you loved me, Ethan. You married me because your family is functionally bankrupt. If those accounts are frozen, your creditors are going to find out that you have no way to pay them. The market will panic, your stock will crash, and Vance Enterprises will dissolve by Monday morning."
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"You don't know what you're talking about," Ethan hissed, his hands clenching into fists.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about," I said, stepping through the ropes and dropping down to the floor right in front of him. He instinctively took a step back, remembering the previous night. "Go back to your mother, Ethan. Tell her that her injunction just triggered an automatic audit clause in my father's trust. Every single transaction Vance Enterprises has made over the past year is now under a microscope. You wanted a war? You got one. But you're fighting out of your weight class."
