Chapter 2 The Aftermath

Valerie Point Of View

The heater inside Sofia’s old gray sedan blew out warm air, but I could not stop shaking.

Sofia drove us down the empty city streets. Neither of us said a word for ten long minutes. I stared down at my hands, resting in my lap. The white tape on my knuckles was soaked with dirty rainwater, peeling away at the edges. Red smears of dried blood from the match were still visible under the white cloth.

"Don't pull at it," Sofia said softly, her eyes fixed on the wet road ahead. "You'll tear the skin."

I let my hands drop back onto the warm wool blanket she had wrapped around my shoulders. "How did Dad react when he saw the news on television?"

Sofia gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, her knuckles turning pale against the black leather cover. "He didn't say anything, Val. He just stood up from his chair, turned off the screen, and walked into his office. He’s been in there all night with the lights off."

A knot twisted in my stomach. Disappointing the fans was bad, but knowing I had brought shame to my father killed me inside. Hector Ruiz had spent thirty years earning a clean, respected name in the wrestling community. He was a man who built everything with his own sweat. In less than one hour, Roxanne Blake had smashed his legacy to pieces using my name.

Ten minutes later, the car pulled up in front of Ruiz Combat Gym.

The old brick building looked small, dark, and lonely under the yellow streetlights. The painted white letters on the front window...RUIZ COMBAT GYM: HOME OF CHAMPIONS were faded and peeling. This gym was our home. It was where Sofia and I took our first steps, where we learned how to tie up our boots, and where our father spent every hour of his life teaching us how to fight with honor.

Sofia parked near the curb and turned off the engine. She grabbed her wooden walking cane from the floor and opened her door. She winced in pain as her back brace caught against the side of the seat, a small gasp escaping her lips.

"Let me help you," I said, reaching over.

"I can do it, Val," Sofia gritted out, forcing her feet onto the wet pavement.

She stood up slowly, using the cane to support her right side. She never liked showing weakness, not even to me. I hurried around the car and stayed close to her elbow as we walked up the concrete steps together.

The front door was unlocked. We stepped inside, shutting the wooden door behind.

The main floor was pitch black. The giant training ring in the center of the room sat empty under the dim night lights. Heavy leather punching bags hung like shadows from the ceiling rafters. The familiar smell of leather, rubber floor mats, and old sweat filled my nose, but tonight it felt cold, empty, and abandoned.

A single bar of yellow light shone from under the door of the back corner office. Sofia looked at me in the dim light and gave a quiet nod toward the back room. "Go talk to him, Val. He needs to hear your voice."

I took a deep breath, walked across the soft rubber floor mats, and pushed the wooden office door open.

My father sat behind his messy wooden desk. His reading glasses were at the tip of his nose, and his thick silver-black hair was wildly messy, like he had been running his fingers through it for hours. Stacks of white paper, legal envelopes, and official letters covered the entire wooden surface.

"Dad," I whispered, stepping into the room.

Hector looked up slowly. His dark eyes were red and heavy with deep tiredness. He looked ten years older than he did when I left the gym this morning with my gear bag. He did not yell at me. He did not scream or demand an explanation. He just looked at me with a soft, broken expression that hurt more than any punch to the face.

He quickly reached out with a trembling hand to cover a bright yellow piece of paper on top of his desk, but I was already standing right in front of him. Before he could slide it away, I saw the bold red letters stamped across the top line: NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Hector let out a long, raspy sigh. He pulled off his reading glasses and dropped them onto the desk. "It's nothing for you to worry about right now, Valerie. You need to go wash off the mud, take a hot shower, and put ice on your bruised knees."

"Dad, don't lie to me," I said, leaning over the wooden desk to read the numbers printed at the bottom of the form. "Is the bank taking our gym?"

"Harrison Sterling bought our debt from the bank two weeks ago," Hector said, his voice flat, dry, and completely empty. "He bought up all our private loans. He gave us thirty days to pay off the remaining mortgage and back taxes, or he takes the legal deed to this building. The total amount is eighty thousand dollars."

Eighty thousand dollars!?! My heart dropped straight into my stomach like a stone.

"Eighty thousand?" I repeated, my breath catching in my throat. "We don't have that kind of money! We don't even have eight hundred dollars in our savings account! But... but my championship bonus check! The official fight contract promised fifty thousand dollars to the winner of the main event tonight! I won that fight!"

"Sterling’s lawyers canceled the bonus check ten minutes after you were suspended," Sofia’s voice came from the doorway.

She walked slowly into the small office, leaning heavily on her wooden cane, and stopped right beside my chair. "Sterling owns the promotion company, he owns the main championship belt, and now he owns our family debt. He set you up with Roxanne so he wouldn't have to pay you a single dollar of that prize money. He wants this gym ruined so he can buy the land for cheap and turn it into a parking lot."

"I'll go back to the athletic board tomorrow!" I said, my fists tightening until my knuckles turned bright white. "I'll demand a second blood test! I'll tell them Roxanne gave me the sealed water bottle in the locker room! I'll make them check the security cameras!"

"They won't listen to us, mija," Hector said softly, reaching across the desk to place his rough, calloused hand over mine. "Harrison Sterling controls the athletic commission. He pays the news reporters. He owns the board members. To the rest of the world, you are just a dirty cheat who got caught red-handed. No official promoter in this country will ever let you step inside a ring again."

The small room went completely quiet as the cruel reality settled over us like suffocating dust. My wrestling career was dead. Our debt was crushing us. And our family gym, the only thing my father had left in this world was just four short weeks away from being erased forever!