Chapter 56. Aftermath (1)

It smelled like steel and bleach that morning. The gym was still half under construction—scaffolding crowded one wall and the distant thrum of drills echoed from the stairwell. A banner stretched across the far side:

PHOENIX FOUNDATION—Reopening Spring.

Its letters weren’t perfect; the paint bled slightly at the edges, a flaw she preferred.

Lia’s bare feet pressed into the mats, leaving momentary indentations that vanished behind her. The rubber yielded and pushed back with each step, sun-warmed patches alternating with cooler shadows where scaffolding blocked the light. She inhaled—sawdust tickled her nose, mingled with the tang of someone’s dried sweat and fresh paint.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket: another reporter, another request. She let it ring. The bruise on her knuckle had faded from purple to yellow, healing faster than the rest of her.

The news cycle had moved faster than grief, faster than clarity.

VALE FIGHTER EXPOSÉ SPA