He paused.

“Arthur helped her. After she died, he kept doing it.”

Derek looked back at the photograph.

The instructor continued.

“You know what Arthur could’ve done when you attacked him?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“He could have hurt you badly. And before you misunderstand me, I’m not saying that because I enjoy watching people get hurt.”

He pointed toward the training mats.

“I’m saying it because men with that kind of experience understand how quickly a fight can become something nobody intended.”

Derek remembered the old man’s warning.

You really don’t want to do this.

Then another.

Walk away.

And finally:

I told you to walk away.

For the first time, Derek understood.

Santa hadn’t been afraid of him.

He had been trying to protect him.

The instructor placed his hands on his hips.

“Arthur spent years teaching people that winning doesn’t always mean finishing the fight.”

Derek swallowed.

“Who are you?”

“Vincent Hall.”

Derek froze.

The attorney.

The same man his manager had warned him about.

Vincent noticed.

“Something wrong?”

Derek shook his head.

Vincent looked at him carefully.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Derek opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then finally spoke.

“My father knew who Arthur was.”

Vincent’s expression changed.

“What?”

“He knew before the event.”

Vincent stepped closer.

“How do you know?”

“He had a whole folder. Old championship photographs. Newspaper articles. Everything.”

The gym seemed suddenly very quiet.

Derek continued.

“He said Arthur would defend himself. He said that was the point.”

Vincent stared at him.

“Your father said that?”

Derek nodded.

Vincent looked toward the photographs on the wall.

Then back at Derek.

“Son, you need to understand something.”

“What?”

“This is no longer a question about a stupid video.”

He paused.

“Your father may have deliberately arranged a violent confrontation to trigger a commercial contract clause.”

Derek’s stomach dropped.

“What happens now?”

Vincent’s answer was simple.

“That depends on whether you’re prepared to tell the truth.”

Derek looked toward the young athletes training on the mats.

Some were only fourteen or fifteen.

He remembered being that age.

Remembered how badly he had wanted his father to be proud of him.