The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 241

Inside the boxing gym, the sharp whistling of gloves cutting through the air was deafening.

Wyatt's strikes were far more vicious than last time, moving so fast they were practically a blur. Three heavy blows landed solidly on Kingsley, and blood quickly seeped from the corner of Kingsley's mouth, staining his jawline.

Standing by the ring with a bottle of water in his hand, Shane watched in sheer confusion. Kingsley clearly had the room to dodge and counter, yet he was leaving himself completely unguarded. Was he playing the sympathy card again?

Miss Lynwood wasn't necessarily going to soften up for that.

Up in the ring, Wyatt stared at his opponent's refusal to fight back. It felt like he was shadowboxing a ghost, and it frustrated the hell out of him.

He abruptly raised a hand to call a halt and strode over to Kingsley, his tone dripping with anger. "What are you doing? Are you holding back on purpose to insult me?"

Wyatt tugged at the straps of his gloves, his gaze bright and stubborn. "I don't need you to let me win. Show me what you've got. I don't want your pity. I want to beat you fair and square."

Kingsley took the towel Shane handed him and slowly wiped the blood from his mouth. His voice was flat. "You've already won. The power and speed behind every punch this time was a massive improvement."

With that, he tossed the blood-stained towel back.

Wyatt ripped off his boxing gloves and threw them to the edge of the ring. His face twisted with undisguised disdain.

"Save it. Show me your real strength. I want to beat you into the ground—that's the only proof of my progress I'll accept, not your empty words."

Leaning against the ropes, Kingsley reached up to touch his bleeding lip and offered a tight, humorless smile. "Fine."

When the twenty-minute rest period was over, they stepped back into the center of the ring.

This time, Kingsley didn't hold back, but the dynamic between them had already quietly shifted. Kingsley hadn't trained in a long time, while Wyatt had been grinding away at the gym every single day. The gap became glaringly obvious with every exchange of blows, and Kingsley soon found himself on the losing end.

Below the ring, Shane was pacing like a cat on a hot tin roof, his palms slick with sweat.

If this kept up, Mr. Sherwood might not get beaten to death, but a hospital stay was definitely in his future.

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