Chapter 20 - HE WAS SUPPOSED TO FALLRoman watched the title fight from federal custody.
Cole learned that from Marvin.
“Why do I need to know this?”
“You don’t.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because it’s funny.”
Cole laughed.
Maybe a little.
Roman’s sentencing did not end his appeals.
His lawyers filed motions.
Challenges.
Expected.
Cole stopped tracking.
Then federal investigators contacted him about a civil forfeiture proceeding involving Roman’s assets.
Several properties.
Accounts.
Funds linked to illegal gambling activity.
Cole might qualify for restitution related to extortion.
He asked his lawyer:
“How much?”
“Potentially substantial.”
Cole thought about the first briefcase.
“Take it?”
His lawyer stared.
“It’s lawful restitution.”
Cole smiled.
“I know.”
He accepted whatever courts determined properly.
Then donated part to the fighter legal-aid fund.
Frank said:
“You’re turning Roman’s money into lawyers for boxers.”
“Seems poetic.”
“Now who’s poetic?”
Cole grinned.
The world title changed everything.
Media.
Endorsements.
More money.
More people suddenly claiming old friendship.
Cole became wary.
Not paranoid.
Selective.
He hired professionals.
Separated friendship from business.
No trainer handling investments.
No manager lending money.
No promoter paying personal bills.
Boundaries.
Darius Mercer became mandatory challenger.
The rematch scheduled eight months later.
Fans called it:
The Fight Roman Couldn’t Fix.
Cole hated the title.
Darius hated it more.
They issued a joint statement requesting promotion focus on boxing.
The promoter reluctantly agreed.
Not completely.
Scandal sold.
Still, both men insisted.
Darius told Cole:
“I’m beating you this time.”
“Good.”
“I mean it.”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise.”
Their rematch became a symbol despite efforts not to make it one.
Two fighters previously manipulated by people around them now fighting under transparent oversight.
Betting monitoring.
Independent corners.
Clean contracts.
No Leo.
No Roman.
Cole understood symbols had value if not allowed to consume the people inside them.
Meanwhile, Marvin’s reporting triggered a wider commission review of historical bouts.
Some fighters admitted taking money.
Others denied.
A few careers received new scrutiny.
Cole refused interviews about every case.
He was not boxing’s moral judge.
One former fighter named Eddie Cruz called him privately.
“I took money once.”
Cole did not know him.
“Why tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
Cole waited.
“My kid needed surgery.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“Did you fix a fight?”
“Yes.”
“Was the surgery why?”
“Yes.”
“Does that make it okay?”
“No.”
Cole respected that answer.
Eddie continued:
“I hated Jack Maddox because people used him as the clean guy.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why call?”
“Because I wanted one person to know I wasn’t proud.”
Cole said:
“I know now.”
They hung up.
The conversation stayed private.
Cole realized moral courage looked different when people had options.
Jack had very few and still said no.
Eddie had very few and said yes.
Roman built systems where desperate people chose badly.
Responsibility remained.
So did context.
Cole’s foundation expanded emergency grants precisely to give fighters one more option.
Not because every compromised fight could be prevented.
But fewer people should face surgery bills versus integrity alone.
Hannah teased:
“You sound like a nonprofit brochure.”
Cole groaned.
“Never say that again.”
Lillian loved it.
Jack’s integrity award hung in her hallway.
Not Cole’s house.
He wanted separation.
His championship belt sat in his gym office for a week.
Then he moved it home.
Frank asked why.
“Kids at the gym keep touching it.”
“Let them.”
“They have sticky hands.”
Frank laughed.
Cole visited a youth class once.
A twelve-year-old asked:
“Did you beat Roman?”
Cole shook his head.
“I never fought Roman.”
“But you won.”
Cole thought.
“Different kind of thing.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes.”
The kid looked shocked.
“Champions get scared?”
Cole smiled.
“All the time.”
“What do you do?”
“Make sure fear isn’t the only person making the decision.”
The child frowned.
“That sounds weird.”
“It is.”
Cole left laughing.
Roman once asked:
You still want to win tomorrow?
First, make it to the ring.
Cole had.
Many times now.
May you like
The phrase no longer sounded like a threat.
It sounded like a challenge he had already answered.
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