An Iron-Body Fighter Told Single Mom "Your Punches Are Useless" — She Was Down, 6 Seconds Later He Regretted!
Chapter 22
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Callie unlocks the door with hands that have gone suddenly cold. Inside, the donation jar sits on the front counter exactly where it always does—half-full of crumpled bills and loose change, same as it's looked for weeks. She doesn't touch it; she just stares at it, understanding slowly exactly what's happening, and exactly who's behind it.By noon, the rumor has grown legs of its own. A few regulars who usually greet her warmly seem stiffer today, quieter, avoiding her eyes at the front desk. Dot Sherman, of all people—the woman who calls gossip staying informed—pulls Callie aside with an unusually serious expression."Somebody left an anonymous note at the community center office," Dot says. "Said you'd been seen taking money out of the jar after hours. Said maybe it explains why you're so eager to keep this place from selling—financial motive, they called it.""That's not true, Dot.""I know that." Dot squeezes her hand. "But you know how this town works: a rumor doesn't need to be true to do its damage—it just needs a few days to sit before Friday, when everybody's already emotional and looking for someone to be upset with."Callie doesn't have to guess who planted the note; she can picture Gordon Aldridge's careful smile perfectly, imagining exactly how satisfied he'd look pulling off something this quiet and this effective.During her lunch break, still furious, she drives to the small rented office above the bank where Gordon's been conducting his business all week. She finds him at his desk, sleeves rolled up, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who spends most of his time threatening other people's livelihoods."You've got some nerve showing up here," Gordon says, not bothering to stand."Somebody's spreading lies about me stealing from a memorial fund," Callie says. "You want to tell me how that happened?""I have no idea what you're talking about.""I think you have a very good idea."Gordon leans back in his chair, unbothered, studying her the way a man studies a problem he's already solved. "I can't help what people in this town choose to gossip about, Miss Doyle. Small towns talk—that's simply the nature of the place.""You're the one who wants this gym gone by Friday. Funny how a rumor like this shows up right on schedule.""Coincidences happen." He almost smiles. "Though I'll admit it does seem to be working in my favor, doesn't it? Perhaps you should consider that a lesson: reputations in a town this size are fragile things—easy to lose, much harder to rebuild.""You sound like a man who's done this before."Something flickers across Gordon's face, there and gone too fast to name. "My father taught me a great many things about how towns like this one actually work," he says, his voice dropping slightly. "People don't need proof to turn on someone—they only need permission. I'd think carefully about who you're picking a fight with, Miss Doyle. It rarely ends the way you'd hope."She leaves his office more certain than ever that Silas's suspicions about the Aldridge name run exactly as deep as the old files suggest. She doesn't say another word to him; there's nothing left to say that he'd actually hear.