Chapter 2 - Four Pages Missing
For a moment, I heard nothing but the electric hum of the clock.
Price slid the paper closer.
“You voluntarily waived your ownership interest, Mr. Mercer.”
“No, I signed an exhibition agreement.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Your signature says otherwise.”
Claire wouldn't meet my eyes.
I reached for the paper, but Price pulled it back.
“Your attorney can request a copy through the proper channels.”
I looked at the bottom-right corner.
Page five of five.
The clipboard Claire had given me contained one sheet.
I remembered the slight drag of the pen against the paper, the way she had held her thumb over the top margin.
A signature page.
Now attached to four pages I'd never seen.
“You swapped the pages.”
Claire's mouth opened.
Price answered for her.
“That's a serious allegation.”
“So is forging a property transfer.”
Derek staggered toward us, his face red with humiliation.
“Get him out of here.”
The employee by the water cooler spoke.
“Derek, he lasted five minutes.”
“Shut up, Maya.”
She lowered her head, but not before I saw her phone camera pointed toward us.
Price collected his folder.
“Your marriage is over, Mr. Mercer.”
“Then we agree on one thing.”
I walked outside before Derek could make another scene.
The parking lot smelled of wet asphalt and motor oil.
My knee shook as I lowered myself into the driver's seat.
I called the only attorney I knew well enough to trust at midnight.
Nora Bennett had helped my HVAC company recover payment from a contractor who thought veterans were easy marks.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Cole, somebody better be dying.”
“Not tonight.”
I told her everything, leaving out nothing, including my failure to read the paper.
She went quiet when I described the document title.
“Do not sign anything else.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“And don't assume that paper transferred anything legally.”
She explained that a forged or misrepresented agreement could be challenged, and that property rights couldn't simply be erased by a spectacle in a gym.
“Come to my office first thing.”
I hung up and started the engine.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number contained a twelve-second video.
Derek's fist connected with my face.
I heard the crowd cheer.
The clip stopped before I moved, before the clock finished, before anyone could see who actually remained standing.
Under it was a caption.
LOCAL VETERAN ATTACKS GYM OWNER AFTER DIVORCE DISPUTE.
A second message arrived.
You should have stayed boring.
I looked toward the gym doors.
Claire and Price were standing under the awning, talking quietly.
She glanced directly at my truck, then put her phone away.
I saved both messages and drove toward the motel.
Halfway there, the manager of our largest HVAC account called.
“Cole, did something happen at a martial arts gym?”
“Why?”
“Because our corporate office just got a video calling you violent.”
His voice turned uneasy.
“And somebody sent them a copy of your military discharge papers.”
I pulled into an empty gas station.
The discharge papers were locked in a filing cabinet at home.
Only two people had the key.
May you like
I was one of them.
