The day my ex-boyfriend, Spencer Drayton, became the world boxing champion was the same day I, Madeleine Ford, got my terminal diagnosis. During the live broadcast interview, the host asked Spencer who’d been his rock during the hardest times. He called my number. “Back then, you dumped me because you thought I was a nobody, got rid of our kid, and ran off with someone else. Any regrets now?” I glanced at the date the doctors predicted I’d die and laughed, a wild, almost freeing sound. “Maybe we should just get back together. I get a champion boxer boyfriend. You get a five-year-old son. Win-win.” He hung up instantly. On the broadcast, Spencer’s laugh was ice-cold. “Thanks to my ex for giving me this humiliation. It’s what drove me to where I am today.” I smiled through my tears, wiping them away. He had no idea. If I hadn’t walked away, he would have died in that ring. A friend request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was of my ex, Spencer. After a moment’s hesitation, I hit accept. Instantly, a fifty-thousand-dollar transfer notification followed. The message attached: [I want to see the child.] It took me a long moment to process what he meant. A knot of complicated feelings tightened in my chest. I accepted the money, then typed back: [Okay. Where are you?] He dropped a pin, a private, members-only club. I transferred the funds straight to my adopted son Theo Ford’s account, pulled myself together, grabbed my purse, and headed for the club. As I approached the private room, a familiar voice drifted out. Peeking through the door crack, I saw Spencer standing tall and straight. Seven years had passed. He looked more mature, more grounded, though his features were fundamentally unchanged. But the woman beside him wasn’t me anymore. From the way he was dressed, it was clear he’d just finished a livestream and rushed straight here. His new girlfriend, Tessa Sutton, had thrown him a victory party here, celebrating him becoming the youngest champion ever. Spencer cradled Tessa’s face, brushing a tender kiss across her forehead. I snapped my head away, a sharp pain lancing through my heart. All I wanted was to leave right then and there. Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Startled, I looked up. Spencer stood there, his face a mask of indifference. His cold gaze swept over me, head to toe, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “After all this time, not even a hello before leaving? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” I stared at him, a thousand unspoken words catching in my throat. I swallowed them down. What came out was, “You wanted to see the child, right? Can you come with me now?” Spencer froze. Then raw fury ignited in his icy eyes. He slammed me against the wall, his hands digging into my shoulders as he growled, his voice low and furious, “Seven years ago, you vanished without a word, and now this is the first thing you say to me?” A sharp, throbbing ache radiated from where his fingers pressed into a bruise on my shoulder. I gasped against the pain but showed a brittle laugh. “Mr. Drayton, are you afraid Ms. Sutton might get jealous? I’m sure she would be delighted to hear I have a child, wouldn’t she?” I aimed the last words at Tessa, who had followed him out and now stood possessively in the doorway. Shock registered on both their faces. Pain flickered in Spencer’s eyes, mixed with something unreadable. Before he could speak, Tessa glided to his side, looping her arm through his, staking her claim. She shot me a sharp look, her voice dripping with mockery and pity. “Darling, I heard Ms. Ford has been all alone, you know. “Raising a child by herself all these years… it must have been terribly difficult. Perhaps the poor boy’s never even met his father. Her asking… She’s probably just trying to keep the child happy, don’t you think? “After all, she’s not like me. I have a man to take care of me, time for shopping, trips… living life to the fullest. “Which reminds me. I suppose I owe Ms. Ford a thank you for being so cruel back then. If she hadn’t been, I never would have met such a wonderful man, would I?” Faced with Tessa’s smug display, I said nothing and offered no defense. My mind flashed back seven years. Spencer was just a hungry young fighter then, fresh off a win, heading into the finals. And me, on the eve of his biggest fight, leaving him with nothing but a note and a medical report from my abortion. He was crushed, lost the finals, and spiraled into a year of self-doubt. He almost got kicked out of the gym.
My thoughts snapped back to the present as Spencer leaned down to kiss Tessa’s forehead again. His eyes swam with unmistakable affection. “Honestly? I’m glad she was so heartless back then. Otherwise, I never would have found my life’s greatest fortune. “That couture gown you wanted? It’s hanging in your closet. Stop trying to save my money.” He released me and laced his fingers through hers. Finally free from his grip, I felt the room tilt. I stood there, staring at their intertwined fingers, a tightness forming in my chest. A wave of dizziness made my vision blur, and I felt like I was suffocating. I had zero interest in witnessing their perfect love story. I turned to leave, stumbled, and pitched forward, hitting the carpet hard. My purse flew open, scattering pill bottles everywhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tessa’s red stiletto quickly disappear beneath the hem of her dress. “Oh, goodness, Madeleine! Are you alright? Clumsy me, I didn’t see you turning and must have tripped you! I am so sorry.” Her tone held zero actual apology. Spencer started to reach for me, but Tessa’s sharp gasp stopped him. He pulled his hand back. “My God, Madeleine! You’re dying? No way! You seem perfectly healthy!” Spencer snatched up the medical notice that had fallen out, his eyes landing on the words Critically Ill. Fury contorted his features. “Madeleine, have you no shame? Stooping this low just to get my sympathy! “After all these years, you haven’t changed a bit! Still full of cheap tricks!” I struggled upright, looking at Spencer’s powerful, healthy body with a stab of envy. I yanked the notice from his grasp, plastering a smile on my face as I slowly gathered the pills, my voice soft and sweet. “Oops, you caught me. So, Spencer… feeling generous enough to spare some charity for a poor, pathetic woman like me?” Tessa dabbed at crocodile tears, leaning dramatically into Spencer’s chest. But the look she shot down at me was pure spite. “Darling, Madeleine must be telling the truth. “Think about it. If she hadn’t left you, she wouldn’t be facing this karma now. We should help her. She’s so terribly pitiful.” Every word was a poisoned dart, reminding Spencer how I’d supposedly ditched him when he had nothing. The fire in Spencer’s eyes turned to ice. “I don’t waste my kindness on just anybody.” He wrapped an arm around Tessa’s shoulders and turned away. She made a show of pleading my case until he silenced her with a kiss. She shot me a final, triumphant glance over his shoulder. I picked up the last flattened pill box and tucked it into my purse, then pushed myself to my feet, leaning heavily on my throbbing knee. As their figures vanished into the elevator, I pressed a hand to my violently trembling chest, gulping for air. Systemic lupus erythematosus… My organs were shutting down, one by one. Infections were spreading. My clock was running out. And he was perfectly healthy. This stable, healthy life he had, I’d sacrificed everything for it back then. And he still had no idea.
Back then, Spencer was boxing’s rising star, an undefeated dark horse tearing through the ranks straight to the championship final. The betting odds against him hit an insane 170:1. Someone powerful got nervous. They cornered Spencer with threats, bribes for the whole nine yards. They ordered him to take a dive in the final round. The carrot, a ten-million-dollar check, would be his the moment he agreed. Spencer took the check. Then he walked straight to the authorities with the check and a recording of the conversation, blowing the whistle on them. That was Spencer then, pure integrity, disgusted by the corruption of fixed fights. Even though the money involved was huge, because no actual deal was finalized, the authorities only issued a stern warning, no real punishment. But Spencer had made powerful enemies. They didn’t come after him directly. Instead, they went for his coach, Cole Locke, the gym owner. I never learned the specifics of their conversation, but from that day on, Cole started working on Spencer. Trying to persuade him, manipulate him. He even stooped to using me. I was a month pregnant by then. Spencer refused Cole point-blank. “Cole, I get it. I really do. But my kid’s about to be born. I don’t want him growing up hearing whispers, carrying the shame of a father who threw fights.” “If we keep it a secret, who’s gonna know? Besides, think about the money, not just your rep! Look how thin Madeleine’s gotten! She needs proper food now she’s pregnant, and babies cost a fortune! You want them stuck in that crappy little apartment forever?” Spencer’s eyes blazed. “If I win the championship, the prize money will fix everything!” Cole threw his hands up. “Get real, kid! You’re a rookie! How are you gonna beat a champ with ten years under his belt? You’re gonna lose anyway! Since it ends the same, why not take the cash and lose?” Spencer wouldn’t budge. The conversation ended badly. Meanwhile, I was tied up in some empty room, watching my fiancé’s determined face on a grainy monitor. He wasn’t wrong, not for a second. My heart swelled with pride for him. But then they brought him in, the champion Spencer was supposed to fight, and showed him to me. A chilling wave of dread washed over me. As Spencer’s partner, I’d done my homework. While he trained, I studied his potential opponents. The boxer about to face Spencer in the ring nicknamed the Death Truck, was known for his explosive power, which he used to violently knock his opponents down. His opponents rarely walked away. Most ended up crippled. Some didn’t end up at all. Spencer couldn’t beat him, not like this. I knew it with chilling certainty. He didn’t have that killer instinct, that utter disregard for another human life. If they met in the finals, Spencer wouldn’t just lose. He’d likely be maimed or, worse, die. So, I made a choice. I would take the fall, wear the shame. My baby needed money. I needed money. He had to lose, but not like that, not broken and bleeding. He had to walk away healthy, with a future. So, I took their money and agreed to their terms. The day before the fight, I left the note and the clinic receipt. He trusted me, believed I loved him unconditionally, and I would never leave. That betrayal hit him exactly as hard as I knew it would. As I had expected, he was still sluggish when he stepped into the ring and was easily knocked down. The opponent kept his promise, leaving him with only a few light injuries to ensure that his future career wouldn’t be affected. Otherwise, according to their original plan, they would have completely sidelined Spencer. I was quite satisfied with this deal. But later, whenever I saw him on screen or on the field, sweating and full of energy, I couldn’t help but feel a subtle, dull pain in my heart. Yet, at the same time, I was happy. After all, he was finally shining in the world he loved. My phone buzzed. Caller ID showed a law firm. A man identifying himself as a lawyer informed me that the fifty thousand Spencer had sent was technically company funds, co-owned with Tessa.
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