~CAKE~
By day four, they stopped calling it luck.
By day six, they stopped betting against me.
By day seven, everyone wanted a shot.
Every fighter in Rome suddenly had something to prove.
And apparently, my face was the prize.
I trained in the mornings, fought in the evenings.
Ice baths. Painkillers. Repeat.
I barely slept.
It didn't matter, money kept pouring in. The crowds got louder every night.
They chanted my name like I’d been doing this for years instead of weeks. I won fast most nights.
Knockouts. Submissions. One girl tried to play dirty, so I poked her eye first, and bit her ear hard enough to draw blood. No regrets.
A win is a win.
By the end of the week, I’d made so much cash I was already calculating how close I was to paying Nico back completely.
So yeah.
Maybe
