Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN ROMAN KNOWS ABOUTCole had always assumed the person Roman would use against him was Hannah.
He was wrong.
As Cole approached the curtain leading to the arena, Elena caught him.
“One second.”
Frank immediately looked concerned.
“What now?”
Elena held up a phone.
“We intercepted a communication involving your mother.”
Cole stopped.
“My mother?”
Lillian Maddox lived outside Phoenix.
Sixty-two.
Retired school receptionist.
She avoided boxing entirely.
“What happened?”
“She’s safe.”
Cole’s heart hammered.
“What communication?”
“Someone called her this afternoon.”
“Who?”
“Blocked number.”
“What did they say?”
Elena hesitated.
“That Cole should remember what boxing did to Jack.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“Did she tell anyone?”
“She called your sister. Your sister contacted Henderson police after the other threats. They passed it along.”
Frank said:
“Pull him.”
Cole raised a hand.
“No.”
Elena continued.
“Arizona authorities checked on your mother. She is safe.”
Cole stared down the tunnel.
Roman knew everybody.
Not because he had magical reach.
Because information was cheap.
Public records.
Social media.
Paid informants.
Fear made ordinary knowledge feel omnipotent.
Cole realized that mattered.
Roman wanted him to believe there was nowhere beyond Roman’s reach.
That belief itself was part of the weapon.
Cole asked:
“Can I talk to her?”
“Briefly.”
Lillian answered on the second ring.
“Cole.”
“Mom.”
“You’re fighting?”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Of course you are.”
Cole smiled faintly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did they scare you?”
“Not as much as your father used to.”
Cole went quiet.
She rarely talked about Jack.
“Mom, I found his things.”
Silence.
“The tape.”
Another silence.
“The notebook.”
Lillian whispered:
“I wondered when you would.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why keep it?”
“Because Jack couldn’t throw it away.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it ruined him.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“I thought boxing ruined him.”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“Shame did.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He knew that.”
“Then why shame?”
“Because the world believed Roman’s story.”
Cole leaned against the concrete wall.
Lillian continued:
“Your father spent years trying to prove something to people who had already decided what they wanted to believe.”
Cole listened.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t fight tonight because you need to rescue Jack’s name.”
Cole looked toward the arena.
“Then why fight?”
“Because you trained for it.”
Simple.
Not revenge.
Not legacy.
Not Roman.
Cole Maddox trained to fight Darius Mercer.
That was enough.
Lillian said:
“And Cole?”
“Yeah?”
“Your father loved you.”
His throat tightened.
“He just hated himself too much to show it well.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No. You’re only starting to.”
The arena coordinator gestured.
Thirty seconds.
Cole said:
“Mom, I have to go.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She paused.
“Hit him in the body.”
Cole laughed.
“You hate boxing.”
“I remember some things.”
He ended the call.
Frank looked at him.
“Better?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
“Body shots.”
Frank smiled.
“Smart woman.”
Cole moved toward the curtain.
Then stopped.
Roman had tried money.
Family.
History.
Fear.
None of it mattered when the bell rang.
Cole stepped into the light.
Twenty thousand people roared.
Cameras flashed.
Across the arena, Darius Mercer stood in the opposite corner.
Roman Drake sat ringside.
Dark suit.
Open collar.
Tattooed hands resting calmly against his knees.
Their eyes met.
Roman smiled.
Then raised six fingers.
Sixth round.
Cole smiled back.
And raised one.
Roman frowned.
Cole pointed at Darius.
One knockout.
Not a specific round.
Not Roman’s schedule.
His own promise.
The referee called both fighters center ring.
Darius leaned close.
“Clean?”
Cole nodded.
“Clean.”
They touched gloves.
May you like
The bell rang.
And the fight Roman believed he owned finally began.
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