Chapter 2: Masks, Lies, and Locker Room Secrets

I snuck into the boxing championship, hiding behind a mask and sunglasses. Bundled up like I was hiding from the world.

I pulled my old hoodie over my head, tugged a battered Yankees cap low, and wrapped a scarf around my face like I was dodging paparazzi. My hands jammed deep in my pockets. I slipped into the crowd, just another face in the sea of fans, my heart pounding.

"Congratulations! This year's championship belt once again goes to Mr. Carter Miles!"

The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers. Confetti rained down as Carter lifted the belt high. The crowd roared, but all I heard was the blood rushing in my ears. I felt like an outsider, invisible and unwanted, watching someone else live the life I used to dream about.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for your champion!" The announcer's voice cracked with excitement, echoing through the arena. I watched for a long time, remembering how the last championship also went to Carter. That time, I almost won, but right before victory, they found illegal substances in my locker room.

I could still see the look on the ref's face when he held up the little baggie, the way the crowd turned on me in an instant. That memory haunted me, replaying in my mind every time I closed my eyes. Carter had smiled that night, too.

Overnight, I went from a champion everyone admired to a public enemy everyone cursed and spat on. The fall was brutal.

My phone lit up with hate, my social media exploded with insults. Reporters camped outside our apartment, neighbors whispered in the hallway. I went from hero to villain before I could even defend myself. It was like waking up in someone else's nightmare.

My nose burned. I felt tears prick my eyes. At least I still had my wife by my side, always supporting me.

Her arms around me were the only thing that kept me from falling apart. She wiped away my tears, told me not to listen to the noise. Back then, I thought her love was the one thing I could count on. I never imagined it could be a lie, too.

I looked toward Carter and saw him staring hard at someone. I followed his line of sight—a reporter.

It took me a second to recognize her—Emily, notepad in hand, her hair pulled back in that way she did when she meant business. Carter's eyes lingered on her, hungry and possessive. My gut twisted. Something was wrong.

My wife. The word felt heavy, almost foreign. I watched as she smiled politely at Carter, her eyes darting away. It was a look I'd seen before—when she was hiding something.

My fingertips started to tremble. Almost without thinking, I pulled my baseball cap down lower. My pulse hammered in my ears.

I didn't want her to see me, didn't want anyone to see me. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped my phone. I stuffed them in my pockets, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. My chest tightened.

Emily told me she was getting ready for my birthday. So why was she here, at the championship? She'd left the house early, promising to make this year special. She'd even teased me about the surprise. So what was she doing here, watching Carter win again? My mind raced, searching for answers I didn't want to find.

After the match, I saw Carter head backstage. Soon after, Emily followed him. This was no coincidence. Emily always said she hated Carter. The two of them usually butted heads every time they met.

I watched her glance around, then slip through the side door after Carter. My heart thudded against my ribs. She was always so vocal about her dislike for him, never missing a chance to insult him at parties. So why was she following him now, alone?

Why would they be alone together? Alone. The word echoed in my head, sharp and stinging. My stomach twisted. What was I missing?

Thinking of Carter's look just now, my heart started pounding wildly. My palms went slick with sweat. I couldn't just stand there. I had to know what was going on.

I followed them.

I moved as quietly as I could, keeping to the shadows, my breath shallow. Every step felt like trespassing on my own life. I shouldn't be here. But I kept going.

"Hey, so, I heard Mason Cole's arm has been healing up, huh? Think he's still got his eye on the championship?" Carter's voice had that casual, taunting edge, like he was talking trash at a bar.

Hearing my name, I couldn't help but tense up. My shoulders stiffened, jaw clenched. I pressed closer, straining to hear.

"Don't worry about him. Even if his arm heals, he's not coming for the belt. He just wants to keep me safe."

Emily's voice was light, almost playful, but I could hear the pride in it. It sounded twisted, like she was bragging about having me on a leash. I barely recognized her tone.

"I won't let him compete. If I have to, I'll use the excuse that I'm worried he'll get hurt."

She said it like a promise. Her words were soft but sharp. I felt my stomach drop. She knew exactly how to keep me in line, and she was proud of it. My mouth went dry.

Hearing my wife say this, my heart sank to rock bottom. It felt like someone had yanked the ground out from under me. She didn't want me to fight—not for my sake, but for hers. It was a betrayal I hadn't seen coming.

If Emily didn't want me to compete, I really wouldn't. I didn't want her to worry, even if I still couldn't let go of that championship belt. I remembered all those nights I told her I'd give up anything for her. I meant it. But now, it felt like she was using that love against me. I felt small, powerless.

But that shouldn't be a reason for Emily to help Carter take me down. It didn't add up. Why would she go this far? My mind spun, searching for answers. The pieces didn't fit, but the truth was staring me in the face.

"I'm still not convinced. With his ability, that belt could still end up his. Maybe we should, I don't know, do something to make sure he can't compete—like slip him something. Just... ruin him for good?" It landed like a slap.

Carter's voice was cold. Then I heard him call Emily "baby" in a sickeningly intimate tone, followed by their heavy breathing. The sound made my skin crawl. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to be a bad dream. But the noises only got worse—whispers, laughter, the unmistakable sound of a kiss. My stomach churned.

My eyes widened. Pain exploded from deep inside, nearly knocking me off my feet. I staggered back, hitting the wall hard. The pain in my chest was worse than any blow I'd ever taken. I wanted to scream, to break something, but all I could do was stand there, shaking.

"For you, I'm willing..." Emily's voice was breathy, mixed with moans. The two of them started whispering filth in the locker room. I stumbled away in humiliation, my cheeks burning.

My feet moved on their own, carrying me out of the building. My vision blurred with tears. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard—what I'd just seen. It felt like the world was ending.

Even after running outside, I was gasping for air, feeling like I couldn't breathe. I leaned against a lamppost, sucking in deep breaths, trying not to throw up. The night air was sharp and cold, but it did nothing to clear my head. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the sting wouldn't go away.

Was all that just a hallucination? I pinched my arm, hard, hoping to wake up. But the pain was real. The world was real. There was no waking up from this.

No. It was real. Every word, every sound. My heart hammered in my chest. There was no denying it. I'd heard everything.

Emily really betrayed me, and with the man who set me up. Maybe she even helped Carter plant those drugs. The thought made me sick. I remembered how she comforted me after the scandal, how she swore she'd find the truth. All lies. She was in on it from the start.

So why did she always act so devoted? Was she just mocking me? I couldn't wrap my head around it. Was it all just a game to her? Did she enjoy watching me suffer? I felt stupid, used.

A chill crept up from my feet. All those years of warmth were nothing but a joke. I shivered, hugging myself against the cold. Every memory of us together now felt tainted, rotten. I wanted to tear them out of my mind.