Blake frowned.
"I know."
"Then do it."
They continued.
After several rounds, Blake became impatient.
He began throwing harder.
Diego stepped back.
"Control."
Blake ignored him.
He threw a wide hook.
Diego moved outside the punch and tapped Blake's ribs.
"Stop."
Blake turned.
"What?"
"You're losing your balance."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
Blake threw another combination.
Diego blocked the first punch and moved away from the second.
Blake chased him.
His feet crossed.
He stumbled.
Diego caught his shoulder before he fell.
The movement was controlled, but the room went quiet.
Blake pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
Diego lowered his hands.
"Then stop falling into me."
Blake's face reddened.
Marcus stepped onto the mat.
"That's enough."
Blake threw his gloves down.
"Everybody keeps treating me like I'm useless."
Marcus looked at him.
"No one said that."
"You're always correcting me."
"Because you're still learning."
"I've been training longer than Owen."
"Training longer doesn't mean training better."
Blake looked toward Owen.
Owen lowered his eyes.
Marcus continued.
"You have strength. You have speed. You have resources that most fighters would be grateful to have. But you keep confusing those things with skill."
Blake's jaw tightened.
"You're saying I'm not good enough."
"I'm saying you're not finished."
Blake looked around the room.
Then his eyes found Arthur.
The maintenance worker was standing near the edge of the training area with a stack of clean towels.
Blake pointed.
"Maybe I should take lessons from him."
Marcus sighed.
"Blake."
"No, seriously. Maybe he can teach me how to move."
Arthur placed the towels on a bench.
"You're already being taught."
Blake turned toward him.
"Then show me."
Arthur looked at him.
"Show you what?"
"How to fight."
Marcus stepped forward.
"That's enough."
Blake ignored him.
"One round. That's all."
Arthur looked at the cage.
Then at Blake.
"No."
Blake laughed.
"Of course."
Arthur continued.
"You're angry. You're frustrated. You want an audience. That's not a reason to fight."
The room became quiet.
Blake stared at him.
"You think you know me?"
"I know what I can see."
"Then look at me."
Arthur did.
Blake spread his arms.
"Tell me what you see."
Arthur studied him.
He looked at Blake's shoulders, his stance, his hands, and the tension in his jaw.
"I see someone who wants to prove he isn't afraid of being ordinary."
The words struck Blake harder than any correction had.
His expression changed.
"Don't talk about me."
Arthur's voice remained quiet.
"Then don't ask."
Blake stepped forward.
Marcus moved between them.
"Blake, leave the mat."
Blake looked at Marcus.
Then at Arthur.
"One day, you'll have to stop hiding behind that uniform."
Arthur glanced down at his blue work shirt.
"I've never hidden behind it."
Blake walked away.
This time, nobody laughed.
At lunchtime, Victoria called Grant Harrington.
She explained what had happened.
Grant listened without interruption.
When she finished, he said:
"Blake tells me the staff is humiliating him."
"That's not what happened."
"Then why does he feel that way?"
Victoria took a breath.
"Because he's being corrected."
"He's paying for professional training."
"And he's receiving it."
"Then why is Marcus constantly criticizing him?"
"Because Marcus is his coach."
Grant sighed.
"Victoria, I don't want to have this conversation again."
"Neither do I."
"Then make sure it doesn't happen."
Victoria looked at the office wall.
"Grant, I need you to understand something. Blake is not being mistreated. He's being held to the same standards as every other athlete."
Grant's voice became colder.
"Perhaps you should consider whether those standards are appropriate for someone at his level."
Victoria closed her eyes.
"What level?"
There was a pause.
Grant answered:
"The level his investment deserves."
Victoria looked through the office glass.
On the training floor, Arthur was collecting used towels.
She suddenly understood the danger.
If she allowed money to determine who received proper coaching, Apex would eventually become a place where wealthy members were protected from the very lessons they had paid to learn.
And the people who worked hardest would be left behind.
"I'll speak with Blake," she said.
Grant ended the call.
Victoria sat quietly.
Then she picked up the phone again.
This time, she called Marcus.
That evening, Marcus found Arthur in the equipment room.
"Blake's father is putting pressure on Victoria."
Arthur continued arranging resistance bands.
"That sounds difficult."
"He's trying to get Blake into the advanced group."
"Is Blake ready?"
"No."
"Then don't put him there."
Marcus laughed once.
"You make it sound simple."
"It is simple."
"Not when money is involved."
Arthur looked at him.
"Then maybe the problem isn't money."
Marcus considered that.
Arthur continued.
"Maybe the problem is that people have started believing money can change the consequences of a bad decision."
Marcus nodded slowly.