Chapter 3 - The Morality Clause
My championship contract was 186 pages.
I had read maybe thirty.
Elise had read all of them.
At her Manhattan office the next morning, she opened Section 42.
Conduct and Event Protection.
If I engaged in conduct creating a substantial risk to licensing, broadcast distribution, or venue approval, the promoter could postpone the title defense.
If the postponement resulted from my willful misconduct, certain guarantees could be reduced.
Lucas Shaw’s promotion company, Apex Crown Boxing, had added that provision after a fighter was arrested weeks before a major card four years earlier.
I stared at Elise.
“If I had hit Daley?”
“Depends how it happened.”
“He slapped me.”
“Self-defense matters.”
“Then why set it up?”
“Because video changes perception faster than law.”
Exactly.
Imagine the clip.
World champion Imani Carter beating a middle-aged businessman in first class.
No fourteen minutes.
No spilled water.
No racial comments.
No slap.
Just the part after.
Broadcast networks panic first.
Investigations later.
Marcus paced.
“I would never jeopardize the event.”
Elise looked at him.
“Who benefits from postponement?”
Sofia’s promoter?
Apex Crown?
Insurers?
Sponsors?
Betting interests?
My own management company?
We made a list.
Then Elise asked:
“What happens financially if Imani cannot fight?”
Marcus stopped.
“Management loses.”
“How much?”
“Our percentage of purse.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
She stared.
“Marcus.”
He looked away.
My stomach tightened.
“What did you do?”
Silence.
“Marcus.”
He sat.
“Carter Sports borrowed money.”
I felt cold.
“How much?”
“Three-point-six million.”
Darnell stared.
“For what?”
Marcus spoke quietly.
“Carter Athletic Center.”
The gym project.
My mother’s name was supposed to be on it.
We had purchased an abandoned warehouse in Baltimore eighteen months earlier.
Plan:
Boxing gym.
Youth education center.
Community health clinic.
A dream we had discussed since Mom died.
Marcus told me private investors funded most of it.
Apparently not.
“Who loaned you three-point-six?”
“Northstar Capital.”
Elise’s expression changed.
She knew the firm.
“Terms?”
Marcus looked miserable.
“The title-defense purse was part of projected repayment.”
“What does that mean?”
“If the fight happens, management revenue services the debt.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Northstar can exercise conversion rights.”
“Into what?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Carter Sports.”
My management company.
My licensing income.
My name.
I stood.
“You pledged my career?”
“No.”
“Sounds like it.”
“I pledged company assets.”
“A company that exists because of me.”
“Yes.”
He whispered it.
At least honest.
Elise leaned forward.
“Who owns Northstar?”
“Private fund.”
“Partners?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“You borrowed three-point-six million and don’t know who controls the fund?”
Marcus snapped:
“They’re institutional investors.”
Elise opened her laptop.
Five minutes later:
Northstar Capital’s managing partner was Graham Vale.
I knew the name.
Former Apex Crown executive.
Fired after an accounting dispute.
And longtime enemy of Lucas Shaw’s father.
This was getting uglier.
Then Darnell asked:
“If the fight is postponed, Northstar takes Carter Sports?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Not immediately.”
“What happens?”
“A covenant breach gives them rights to appoint a board observer and accelerate part of the debt.”
“Who becomes observer?”
Marcus did not know.
Elise searched the loan file.
She found it.
Northstar representative: Caleb Ross.
Same Caleb Ross who allegedly ordered Beacon Strategies to create the incident.
Nobody spoke.
Marcus stared at the page.
“Oh God.”
The company my brother borrowed from had placed a man inside the reputation firm that engineered my provocation.
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This was not random.
And Marcus had built the door they walked through.
