Chapter 5 - The Champion's Record
I opened the front door to find a man in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, carrying a heavy leather briefcase. He had silver-streaked hair combed back with expensive pomade and the smug, predatory aura of a civil litigation shark. Standing three paces behind him on our porch was Richard Sterling—Serafina’s fiancé—looking pale, hungover, and visibly uncomfortable in a cashmere vest.
"Mrs. Vance?" the lawyer asked, not waiting for an answer. "My name is Arthur Pendelton, senior partner at Pendelton & Croft. I represent the Sterling and Vance families."
"You're trespassing, Mr. Pendelton," I said mildly, leaning against the doorframe.
"I am here to offer you a lifeline before your life is completely ruined," Pendelton said smoothly, pulling a manila folder from his briefcase. "My clients are prepared to file an emergency civil suit for battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and aggravated assault. Given your... unique background, the court will view your hands as deadly weapons."
Evander appeared behind me, his shoulder brushing mine. "Get off our property, Arthur. Serafina threw boiling soup at my wife."
"A tragic domestic mishap caused by slippery glassware," Pendelton countered smoothly. "Whereas your wife—an unregulated professional fighter—used lethal force against an unarmed, defenseless civilian. The media will eat this alive, Evander. 'Former cage fighter brutalizes socialite at Thanksgiving table.' Think about your business. Think about your reputation."
I couldn't help it. A dry, genuine laugh escaped my chest.
"What's funny, Mrs. Vance?" Pendelton’s eyes narrowed.
"You really haven't looked into my athletic commission record, have you, Arthur?" I asked.
Pendelton blinked, thrown off by my total lack of panic. "I am aware you competed in mixed martial arts."
"Then you should know that I retired four years ago with an undefeated record of 14-0," I said, stepping forward onto the porch mat. Pendelton instinctively took half a step back. "You should also know that my master's degree is in Sports Law, and I sit on the State Athletic Commission's disciplinary review board. I teach defensive tactics seminars to the very precinct that arrested your client last night."
Richard Sterling cleared his throat nervously from the driveway. "Arthur... maybe we should—"
"Quiet, Richard," Pendelton snapped, though a bead of sweat had formed at his temple. He turned back to me. "That doesn't change the fact that you retaliated with disproportionate force."
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"The camera mounted above the chandelier captured the entire twenty-four-second interaction at 4K resolution, sixty frames per second," I said, staring directly into his eyes. "It shows Serafina grabbing an eight-quart porcelain tureen of boiling soup and thrusting it forward at my head with two hands. It shows me slipping the strike. It shows her striking Evander. And it shows me executing a standard, open-palm collar-tie drag down to neutralize an active, violent assailant without throwing a single punch, kick, or elbow."
I smiled, cold and sharp. "Tell Delphine to save her retainer fee. She’s going to need it for Serafina’s bail bondsman."
