Chapter 22: The Boxer
Years Later — Age Fifteen
Smith first saw Natasha at a national boxing tournament.
Without asking her permission, he took her away that night.
Why would he bring a girl home without her consent?
Because he had been watching her for years.
He remembered the first day he saw her — a thin girl standing near a dusty window outside a boxing class. The coach inside was training his students, shouting instructions. Natasha wasn't inside. She stood on a broken dustbin in the corner, quietly watching every movement, memorizing every punch.
She learned boxing from outside the window.
From that day, Smith followed her journey — how the girl who once watched from the shadows slowly stepped into the ring.
Her path was never easy.
She fought in tournament , but she always lost.
Not because she lacked skill.
But because the company she fought under didn't want her to win.
The higher-ups favored fighters with connections, wealth, and protection. In a battlefield ruled by influence and background, talent meant nothing.
And Natasha had none of those things.
She knew it.
Yet she ignored it, holding onto hope that one day her victory would come.
But that day never came.
Smith knew everything.
He knew she would never be allowed to win.
The tournament began.
Natasha gave everything she had — blood, sweat, strength.
But when the announcer shouted, "Winner—!"
Her name was not called.
The word defeat echoed mercilessly through the stadium.
Before she could lower her head in humiliation, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist.
Smith.
Without hesitation, he pulled her away — away from the noise, the whispers, and her shattered pride.
He took her home.
She tried to break free, her body trembling from exhaustion.
"Hey! Who are you?" she demanded, frustrated, breath uneven.
He looked at her calmly.
"Do you want to join us?"
"What?! I don't even know you! Join what?"
"Fighting. Real fighting."
He laughed softly.
"You didn't say no," he said politely. "I'll take that as a yes."
After a long argument…
She finally said yes.
They stepped inside the house.
Suddenly—
A voice echoed through the walls.
The lights flickered and went out.
The air turned heavy.
Red eyes glowed in the darkness.
Leo.
He had been looking for Smith — and now Smith had brought someone new without permission.
"Who is he?" Natasha whispered.
"Our boss," Smith muttered nervously.
Sweat rolled down his temple. He had taken Leo's car without permission and disappeared for hours.
Leo's gaze shifted to Natasha.
"Who's this?"
"U-uh… hello, sir," she stammered.
"I'll explain later," Smith said quickly. "Let's go."
From that day, their training became brutal.
Harder.
Sharper.
Merciless.
Until they became professionals.
But the day they feared most was still coming —
The beginning of their true, unwanted training.
At William's House
Meanwhile—
Uncle Enzo brought his wife, Lina, home.
When she arrived, Realiana did not come downstairs. She stayed in her room, pretending to wait patiently.
"Lina, welcome home," George greeted warmly.
After freshening up and small talk, Lina finally went upstairs.
Knock. Knock.
"Who's there?" Realiana asked dramatically.
"Uhmm… your delivery, ma'am. May I come in?"
They were both playing along.
"Yes," Realiana answered proudly. "Enter."
Lina stepped inside, her eyes shining with affection.
Realiana ran toward her and grabbed her hands, spinning happily.
"Aunty! I missed you so much! Did you bring what I asked?"
"Yes, ma'am," Lina said politely. "Your parcel."
She handed her a box.
Just then, Enzo entered.
"Ladies, sorry to interrupt—"
"Then join us!" Realiana cut him off, her eyes sparkling.
"Only five minutes," Enzo said. "We have work to do."
"You don't interrupt," Lina warned her husband, pointing a finger playfully.
lina gave Enzo a side-eye.
He raised his hands. "Sorry, ma'am."
She opened the box.
Inside were her favorite sugar-free cookies — made by Lina's mother.
They shared laughter, warmth, and cookies.
Then Lina and Enzo left.