Callum did not confront Marcus immediately.
That surprised Vivienne.
“If that were me, I’d already be at his door.”
“That’s why I’m security and you’re a CEO.”
She gave him a look.
“You realize CEOs also investigate problems.”
“You investigate them with lawyers.”
“They’re scarier.”
Callum almost smiled.
Almost.
They were sitting inside a secure conference room at Calloway Vantage headquarters with Mercer and two members of Callum’s protection team.
The photograph of Marcus Webb and Owen Rourke lay in the center of the table.
Mercer tapped it.
“Taken outside the Hartwell Hotel in Las Vegas twenty-two days ago.”
“How long were they together?” Callum asked.
“Eleven minutes.”
“Any audio?”
“No.”
“Second meeting?”
“None we’ve found.”
Vivienne crossed her arms.
“So either Marcus is working with Rourke, or Rourke approached him.”
“Correct.”
“And we have no idea which.”
“Correct.”
Vivienne hated answers that created more questions.
Callum looked at Mercer.
“Where’s Marcus now?”
“Derek’s gym.”
Callum stood.
Vivienne stood too.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I’m coming.”
“This isn’t a board meeting.”
“Neither was my gala, apparently.”
“Vivienne.”
“If Marcus helped engineer a situation involving my company, my employee, and a threat against a child, I’m coming.”
Callum stared at her for several seconds.
Mercer cleared his throat.
“She’s going.”
Callum looked at him.
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
They found Marcus alone at the gym after training.
He looked from Callum to Vivienne and sighed.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Callum placed the photograph on a bench.
“Explain.”
Marcus stared at it.
“I didn’t know who he was.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“He called himself Owen Ross. Said he represented a group interested in Derek’s sponsorship.”
Vivienne stepped forward.
“What did he want?”
“Information about the gala. Security arrangements. Guest access.”
Callum’s expression hardened.
“You gave it to him?”
“No.”
Marcus looked offended.
“I’ve spent half my life around famous idiots. I know what suspicious questions sound like.”
“Then why meet him?”
“Because he offered two million dollars.”
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed.
“For what?”
“To make sure Derek challenged you.”
Silence.
Callum’s jaw flexed.
Marcus continued.
“I refused.”
“Then why did Derek challenge me?”
“Because Derek is Derek.”
That, unfortunately, sounded plausible.
Marcus sat on the edge of the training platform.
“Rourke knew your name before I did. Showed me a picture. Asked whether Derek could provoke you into an exhibition.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That he was insane.”
“Did you tell Derek?”
“No.”
Vivienne stared.
“Why not?”
Marcus rubbed his face.
“Because Derek has spent the last two years doing the opposite of whatever I tell him.”
Callum understood that too.
“If you had told him there was a mysterious man desperate to get me into a cage,” he said, “Derek would’ve challenged me faster.”
“Exactly.”
Vivienne exhaled.
“So you stayed quiet.”
“I thought the guy was some gambling fixer. Then I saw Callum move at the gala.”
Marcus looked at Callum.
“And I remembered the footage.”
“You could have told us then.”
“I should have.”
Callum’s voice cooled.
“Yes.”
Marcus accepted it.
“I screwed up.”
“Where is Rourke?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he contact you again?”
Marcus hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“When?” Callum asked.
“This morning.”
“What did he say?”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
One message.
MAKE SURE THE FIGHT HAPPENS.
Callum read it.
Vivienne’s stomach tightened.
“What does he gain?”
Callum already knew.
“Visibility.”
Everyone looked at him.
“If he wanted me dead, there are easier ways. If he wanted Emma, he wouldn’t warn me first.”
“Then what?”
“He wants me humiliated.”
Marcus frowned.
“By Derek?”
“Maybe.”
Callum stared at the empty cage.
“Rourke blamed me for destroying his life. He always cared about reputation. He thought he was untouchable. When I exposed him, people learned he had sold out his own teams.”
Vivienne understood.
“He doesn’t just want revenge.”
“No.”
“He wants to destroy what you became.”
Callum nodded.
A father.
A protector.
A man trusted with other people’s lives.
Rourke wanted the world to see him fail.
That evening, Derek found out about the meeting.
He stormed into Marcus’s office.
“You met Reyes behind my back?”
“I met with him because somebody is manipulating this.”
“You think I’m being manipulated?”
“Yes.”
Derek laughed.
Marcus didn’t.
“You think everything is about whether people respect you,” Marcus said. “That makes you easy to control.”
Derek’s face darkened.
“You work for me.”
“No. I coach you.”
“Same thing.”
Marcus stood.
“No, son. It isn’t.”
Derek flinched at the word.
Marcus had been more of a father to him than Derek’s actual father, who had vanished before his tenth birthday.
That history made what came next hurt more.
“You’ve got people telling you you’re invincible,” Marcus said. “Managers, promoters, women, sponsors. Everybody gets paid when Derek Voss believes Derek Voss is the center of the universe.”
Derek stared at him.
“I made you rich.”
“You made yourself a champion. I helped.”
“Then act like it.”
“I am.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Cancel the exhibition.”
Derek laughed once.
“No.”
“This isn’t about fighting anymore.”
“It was always about fighting.”
“No. It’s about you needing to prove something to a man who never challenged you.”
Derek’s eyes went cold.
“You scared I’ll lose?”
Marcus answered carefully.
“I’m scared you’ll win and still become a smaller man.”
Derek walked out.
Saturday arrived.
The arena held nineteen thousand people.
The exhibition had become bigger than anyone expected.
Callum hated every inch of it.
He stood in a private locker room wearing black shorts and hand wraps while Mercer checked communications.
Emma was not there.
That had been nonnegotiable.
She and Elena were at a secure location guarded by a team Callum personally selected.
Vivienne, however, refused to leave.
She stood near the door in a white pantsuit.
Callum looked at her.
“You’re overdressed.”
“I have a company logo on half the arena.”
“Still overdressed.”
“You’re underdressed.”
He looked down at himself.
“Occupational requirement.”
She smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“Callum.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She walked closer.
“I need you to come back through that door.”
“It’s an exhibition.”
“I’m not talking about Derek.”
He understood.
Rourke.
Callum reached out.
For one moment, professional boundaries disappeared.
He took her hand.
“I’m coming back.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’ll try.”
“That’s a terrible promise.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
Her fingers tightened around his.
A staff member knocked.
“Two minutes.”
Vivienne looked at Callum.
“Don’t make me regret letting you do this.”
“You didn’t let me.”
“Now is not the time.”
He smiled.
That was when she realized he wasn’t afraid.
Not because he believed himself invincible.
Because he had already accepted fear.
That made him different from Derek.
The arena erupted when Derek entered.
Music.
Lights.
Fireworks.
The undefeated champion raised his fists.
Callum’s entrance was almost embarrassingly simple.
No music.
No performance.
He walked beside Mercer toward the cage.
At first, the crowd booed.
Then a section began chanting.
DAD! DAD! DAD!
Callum closed his eyes.
“This is humiliating.”
Mercer grinned.
“Emma’s going to love it.”
Across the cage, Derek bounced on his toes.
Callum entered.
Marcus stood behind Derek.
Their eyes met.
Marcus gave Callum the smallest nod.
The referee explained the rules.
“One five-minute round. Controlled exhibition. Protect yourselves at all times. I will stop this if either of you stops intelligently defending.”
Derek offered his glove.
Callum touched it.
“Still time to quit,” Derek said.
“Probably.”
Derek frowned.
The bell rang.
Derek attacked immediately.
Fast jab.
Low kick.
Right hand.
Callum moved.
Not dramatically.
Not beautifully.
Efficiently.
The first punch missed by an inch.
The second by less.
The kick touched Callum’s thigh but didn’t land cleanly.
The crowd changed.
They had expected a stunt.
This wasn’t one.
Derek attacked again.
Callum blocked.
Moved.
Reset.
He did not throw a strike.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
One minute.
Derek’s frustration grew.
“Fight me!”
Callum said nothing.
Another combination.
Callum slipped.
Derek swung harder.
Marcus saw it happening.
Derek was abandoning discipline.
“Settle down!” he shouted.
Derek ignored him.
He rushed.
Callum caught the arm, turned his hips, and suddenly the undefeated champion was on the canvas.
The arena exploded.
Callum released him immediately and stepped away.
Derek sprang up, furious.
“You think that’s funny?”
“No.”
“Then fight!”
Derek charged.
This time his right hand clipped Callum’s cheek.
Vivienne gasped.
Callum tasted blood.
Something old awakened.
Not rage.
Memory.
Angles.
Distance.
Breathing.
Every detail sharpened.
Derek saw the change.
So did Marcus.
“Oh, no,” Marcus whispered.
Derek threw a left hook.
Callum ducked.
Body lock.
Trip.
Derek hit the canvas again.
Callum followed.
Controlled the wrist.
Passed the guard.
Mounted.
Derek tried to buck him off.
Couldn’t.
Callum had an opening.
One elbow would change everything.
He didn’t throw it.
Instead he stood.
The crowd roared.
Derek stared up at him.
For the first time in his professional life, someone had placed him in a helpless position and simply walked away.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Derek rose.
“Stop treating me like a child!”
Callum’s expression changed.
“Then stop acting like one.”
The crowd heard it.
So did the microphones.
Derek charged.
Marcus shouted.
“Derek, no!”
Callum moved.
Three seconds later, Derek was against the cage with his arm controlled and Callum behind him.
The champion struggled.
Nothing happened.
Callum spoke quietly beside his ear.
“This is where you decide what kind of man you are.”
Derek froze.
The bell sounded.
Five minutes.
Over.
The arena erupted.
No winner.
No loser.
Officially.
Callum released him.
Then every light in the arena went out.
Darkness swallowed nineteen thousand people.
Vivienne heard screaming.
Callum’s head snapped toward her section.
Emergency lights flickered red.
A voice came through his earpiece.
“Security breach. West corridor.”
Callum ran.
Not toward the locker room.
Not toward safety.
Toward Vivienne.
He reached her as the first emergency lights came on.
“Move.”
She knew that tone.
She ran.
Behind them, someone shouted Callum’s name.
He turned.
At the end of the corridor stood Owen Rourke.
Older.
Smiling.
And holding a phone displaying a live video feed.
Emma.
Callum stopped dead.
Rourke lifted the phone.
“You became a father,” he said.
Then he smiled wider.
“That was the mistake I was waiting for.”