The Truth
A week passed. A week of hell the endless calls, the visits to the station, the hiding from the world .
I couldn’t walk the streets without swiveling my head to avoid faces. My phone had been taken by my agency. I wasn’t allowed online. No news, no social feeds because they were afraid of the backlash.
On the seventh day they told me to get ready. “We’re visiting the usual places,” they said. I dressed in black ,a sleeveless top, dark shades, and my biggest weapon those days a mask. My hands trembled as I pulled on the clothes. My chest thudded so loud I felt sure people could hear it
We drove to the station and walked through doors that smelled of disinfectant and paper. The deceased’s family and Selena’s agency were already there, faces set like stone. Two men in suits representing the Athletic Commission sat beside them.
My knees nearly gave me away when we entered the senior officer’s office. He broke the silence, opened a brown envelope, and read aloud.
“It is concluded that Selena Moreau died of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” he said. “A condition in which the heart muscle thickens, making it harder to pump blood. The autopsy confirms no external trauma consistent with fatal injury. Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest triggered by high-intensity exertion.”
The words ricocheted around the room. Oddly, a surge of relief warmed my chest. My feet stumbled forward without me thinking, and I hugged my manager like she was the only solid thing left. Someone near meSelena’s mother, I think collapsed into tears. Their grief was raw. I should have been only grief, too, but a part of me felt a sick sense of relief, like a heavy weight lifting off me.
Then the officer kept speaking, and my relief wrenched into something else.
“Our investigation shows Selena had been diagnosed months ago but kept it secret even from her agency,” he said. “Doctors recommended a septal myectomy. She refused, insisting she’d do it after the tournament. She was taking beta-blockers Metoprolol. The meds were found in her bag.”
She knew. She had hidden it. She’d chosen the ring over surgery, and she’d lied to the people who trusted her. For a moment I thought she’d almost used her illness to ruin me.
After that, the rest fell on my deaf ears . I don’t remember how they concluded it since I already heard what I wanted to hear a tears of joy streamed down my eyes as we rode back to the hotel.