Ethan did not have time to enjoy his victory over Marcus Steele. The mysterious message from Victor had turned his triumph into a moment, which was quickly replaced by an unsettling feeling. As Frank drove them back to the apartment, Ethan's mind was racing with all possible angles of Victor's next move. He could not wait for the attack; he had to attack first.
Frank finally spoke. "It's time to go to the next level. Hiding under the bushes will not cut it."
Ethan nodded. "Victor is getting personal. It is not only my career but also every thing."
Frank pulled into the apartment complex and parked. "Then we make it personal too. I have this guy who has been just itching to dig into Victor's operations. He's not cheap, but he is thorough. You ready to fight this battle on both fronts?"
Ethan tightened his fists. "Do it."
The following day, Frank presented the young man to the detective investigator, a crisp businessman called Garrett, with hard sharp eyes and an unspoken reserve. They met at an equally mundane café out of the sight and gaze of the press and of Victor's agents.
"Victor Kane," Garrett said, leaning back in his seat. "Corporate magnate, media manipulator, and a man with more skeletons in his closet than most cemeteries. You're not the first person he's tried to crush, but you might be the first to fight back."
Ethan leaned forward. "What can you find?"
Garrett smirked. "Everything. Financial fraud, blackmail, illegal dealings. The trick is finding the right thread to pull. Once it unravels, the whole tapestry comes apart. Give me a week."
"Make it fast," Ethan said. "He's already tried to kill me once."
Garrett's expression turned serious. "Then we'd better move quickly."
Meanwhile, Ethan threw himself into training. His next fight was against Ricardo Vargas, a young and ferocious up-and-comer with a penchant for lightning-fast strikes. Ricardo was being touted as the future of the sport, and the media was already hyping the match as a clash of titans.
Gym sessions started becoming long marathons. Frank pressed him further than ever, hammering home counters and stamina. "Ricardo is quick but careless," Frank mentioned between the two fighters. "You keep your cool; then you are sure to see holes. This one's for patience."
"Paciencel that isn't really my attribute," Ethan confessed as he bobbed out of range for a jab by his sparring partner.
"Then make it your strong suit," Frank shot back. "Victor's banking on you losing control. Prove him wrong."
As the fight approached, Garrett delivered his first report. They met in the same diner, where Garrett slid a manila folder across the table.
"Victor's empire isn't as solid as he wants people to believe," Garrett said. "He's bleeding money in a few areas, covering it up with shady loans. More importantly, he's got ties to some very dangerous people. Organized crime, offshore accounts, you name it. If this goes public, he's finished."
Ethan opened the folder, scanning the incriminating evidence. "This is good," he said. "But we need more. Something that hits harder."
"There's a ledger," Garrett said. "It's the Holy Grail. If we can get our hands on it, it'll prove everything. Problem is, it's locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I'll need more time."
"Take whatever you need," Ethan said. "Just get it.
On the night of the fight, the atmosphere in the arena was electric. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, and the energy was almost palpable. Ricardo Vargas entered the ring first, his confidence radiating as he played to the crowd. When Ethan followed, the cheers were deafening, a mix of support and skepticism.
It was a killer round. Ricardo ran just like everybody had advertised him, and poor Ethan just could not get going. He was getting smashed from pillar to post but refused to go down. "Patience," Frank's voice seemed to keep saying in his ears.
In the second round, Ethan began to feel the flow. He picked up on Ricardo's rhythms and countering them well with great accuracy, pounding in strong punches. The crowd erupted into a roar, and the cockiness that characterized Ricardo was now cracking.
By the fourth round, Ethan was in charge. Ricardo's strikes were becoming sloppy as frustration was starting to set in, and Ethan capitalized. He landed a devastating uppercut that sent Ricardo sprawling to the mat. The count by the referee felt like an eternity, but Ricardo did not get up.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Ethan raised his fists in victory. He had shut up the doubters once again, proving that he wasn't just a contender; he was a force to be reckoned with.
Ethan's backstage celebration was cut short by a call from Garrett.
"We have a problem," Garrett said. "Victor knows we're digging. He's cleaning house, and he's not being subtle about it. We need to move now.
Ethan's jaw set. "What do you need me to do?"
"Meet me at the warehouse on 5th Street," Garrett said. "Bring Frank. This ends tonight."
Ethan hung up and turned to Frank, who'd been listening. "You ready for this?"
Frank's grin was wolfish. "Let's go take Victor down.