Remembered all the times Graham told him that winning was the only thing that mattered.

Then Derek looked at Vincent.

“I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter 10: The Meeting That Was Supposed to Destroy Santa

The emergency meeting began at ten the following morning.

Outside Northbridge Mall’s administrative offices, television crews crowded the entrance.

Reporters stood beneath falling snow.

Shoppers gathered behind temporary barriers.

The original video had not yet been made public.

Most people still believed Santa had attacked a professional MMA fighter.

And Graham Sloan intended to keep it that way.

He arrived wearing a charcoal-gray suit and an expression of practiced confidence.

Two attorneys followed him.

Miles Trent walked several steps behind, carrying a leather briefcase.

Derek arrived separately.

No entourage.

No championship belt.

No cameras.

Just a black jacket and a face that looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

His father noticed immediately.

“Where have you been?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“Your manager’s been calling you.”

“I know.”

Graham studied him.

“Don’t make today more difficult than it already is.”

Derek looked directly at his father.

“Funny. I was going to say the same thing.”

Graham’s eyes narrowed.

Before he could respond, the meeting-room doors opened.

Arthur Bell entered beside Vincent and Nora.

He wasn’t wearing the Santa suit.

He wore dark trousers, a plain blue shirt, and a brown winter coat.

He walked with a slight limp.

Several people turned to stare.

Whispers spread through the room.

“That’s Santa.”

“That’s the guy from the video.”

“He looks so ordinary.”

Arthur heard them.

He had spent his entire adult life looking ordinary outside a training hall.

He preferred it that way.

Graham watched him take a seat.

Then he smiled.

“Mr. Bell.”

Arthur looked up.

“Mr. Sloan.”

“I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Better than your son, apparently.”

The smile vanished.

Derek lowered his eyes.

Graham took his seat.

The meeting began.

Northbridge’s board chair, Renee Archer, was a woman in her late fifties who had spent most of her professional life managing commercial properties.

She wasn’t easily impressed by expensive suits.

And she had little patience for public scandals.