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Sandro's entire body radiated a cold, seething energy, his gaze hard as stone, his jaw clenching tight. There was no mistaking it, he knew. Barry's smile faltered for a second, his confident façade cracking under the weight of that stare. A flicker of dread curled inside his gut like a snake awakening.
"No way..." Barry thought hastily, shoving the fear down. "No way he knows. I covered my tracks. He wouldn't go that far and investigate me for Alexa. It's impossible."
Barry forced a chuckle, trying to brush past Sandro casually. "Relax, man, tough night, huh? Go get some sleep or something."
Sandro didn't move an inch. He didn't step aside. He simply tilted his head slightly, his glare intensifying for one long, simmering heartbeat.
Barry unnerved, muttered something under his breath and squeezed past, his shoulder brushing Sandro's.
Sandro let him go.
Not because he couldn't do something right then and there. But because it wasn't time yet.
Not here. Not in a hallway where security cameras could catch everything, where the wrong kind of attention could turn a righteous confrontation into a backstage scandal that would hurt Alexa more than help her.
No, when it happened and it would happen, it would be on his terms.
Watching Barry's retreating back, Sandro's hands curled into fists inside his hoodie pockets. He burned the moment into his mind, feeding it to the fire growing inside him.
The drive home was a blur.
Sandro barely registered the city lights flickering past as he sped down the road, the hum of the engine a low growl underneath the pulsing adrenaline that still hadn't fully worn off.
He finally pulled into his apartment complex, killing the engine and sitting there for a few seconds in the dark silence of his car. The fatigue was starting to hit him harder now, creeping into his bones like a slow poison.
Dragging himself out of the car, he grabbed his duffel bag and his two titles and entered his apartment.
He dropped the duffel bag by the door with a heavy thud, then kicked off his shoes, put his titles on the sofa, and then made a beeline for the fridge. He grabbed a cold bottle of water, cracked it open, and chugged half of it in one go.
Only then did he allow himself to relax slightly.
Sinking down onto the couch, he went toward his desk and turned on his computer, and opened the email the investigator had sent him.
There it all was.
Screenshot pictures of Barry's texts, ordering and encouraging the harassment. Bank transfer records. Surveillance photos show Barry meeting with two of the hired harassers, with one of them caught Barry handing a wad of cash maybe as a bonus.
The evidence was ironclad.
Sandro scrolled through it all methodically, committing every detail to memory. His mind worked over the possibilities. He could expose Barry publicly, and utterly destroy his reputation and career in one fell swoop.
But would that help Alexa?
Or would it drag her through more pain, more attention, more questions she didn't want to answer?
This needed to be handled cleanly. Quietly. Permanently.
Sandro leaned back against his chair. His eyes traced the ceiling for a long moment, his mind sharpening into something razor focused.
First thing first, he had to let Alexa know, that their suspicion of Barry was correct.
He took his phone, opened his texts, and quickly fired off a simple message: "We need to talk. It's important. Call me when you're free."
He didn't mention Barry's name over text, he felt that it was better to inform Alexa through a call so that he could know her condition, from her voice tone and breath.
Sandro then took a quick shower and changed into a set of casual clothes, and that was when his phone buzzed.
It was Alexa. "Hey. Just saw your message. Can I call you now?"
Sandro immediately texted back, "Yeah. I'm ready."
Seconds later, the phone rang.
He answered it instantly. "Alexa."
"Hey, Sandro," her voice came through, small but steady. "What's going on? You sounded... serious."
Sandro closed his eyes for a second, gathering his thoughts.
"I found out who's been behind everything," he said, his voice low and careful.
There was a sharp inhale on the other end. "What?"
"It was Barry," Sandro said flatly. "Just like we suspected that it was him. He orchestrated everything. The calls. The texts. He even paid people to harass you."
Silence. For a long, agonizing moment, there was nothing but breathing on the line.
When Alexa finally spoke, her voice trembled slightly. "Are... are you sure?"
"I have proof," Sandro said firmly. "Screenshots. Bank records. Surveillance footage. It's solid."
Another silence.
Then a broken whisper, "How... How could he do that? Just because I rejected his advances, he would go to such length?"
Sandro's jaw clenched. "Because he's a man with low self esteem and a coward. He hated that you keep rejecting him and maybe the climax was when I called him out last Monday when I helped you. He doesn't dare to do anything to me, but he thought he could do anything to you as revenge."
A shaky breath from Alexa.
"I'm sorry," Sandro said, his voice softening. "I should've taught him a lesson right there and then, so the situation wouldn't go overboard like this."
"No," Alexa said, stronger this time. "It's not your fault. It's not."
There was a pause, and then she added, "What... what happens now?"
Sandro's eyes burned with calm anger. "Now? We take care of it. Quietly. You won't have to deal with him again. I promise you that."
Alexa was silent for a beat longer, then said in a small voice, "Thank you, Sandro. For everything, I'm very grateful to have you help me and look after me."
"No problem, just tell me if you need anything, and I will inform you if there is any follow up," he said.
They ended the call soon after, with Alexa feeling afraid that Barry would go to such lengths, but Sandro's protectiveness and care made her heart feel warmth.
After the call ended, Sandro set his phone down on the nightstand and sat there for a few moments, just breathing. The conversation had drained what little energy he had left. The adrenaline that had fueled him earlier had long since faded, leaving behind only the heavy pull of exhaustion in his muscles and mind.
He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling a slow, ragged breath. Then, without overthinking it, he crawled into bed, not even bothering to turn off the small lamp beside him. His body sank into the mattress like it was pulling him down into the earth. Sleep claimed him almost instantly.
Morning came far too quickly.
The sharp buzz of his alarm cut through the thick fog of sleep, and Sandro forced himself upright, grimacing as his sore muscles protested. He ran a hand through his messy hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Today was not going to be easy but it was necessary.
He moved with mechanical efficiency, showering, and getting dressed in simple dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a lightweight jacket.
He grabbed the USB drive from his desk, the one containing all of Barry's damning evidence, and slipped it carefully into his jacket pocket. His mind was sharp, clear.
The plan was simple which was to get this handled quietly, and decisively, and make sure Alexa never had to worry about it again.
No drama. No explosions. Just a clean cut.
Sandro headed out, the morning sun barely peeking through the clouds as he drove toward the FCW Headquarters.
The usual excitement he felt going there was absent today. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles whitening every time he thought about Barry's smug face.
Not today.
Today, justice would be served properly.
The drive passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was pulling into the familiar parking lot. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, steadying himself. Then he pocketed the USB, grabbed his phone, and headed inside.
The halls were quiet this early. Most of the roster was either still on the road or catching up on rest after last night's show. That was good, less chance of rumors starting. The fewer people who knew about this, the better it would be for Alexa's sake.
Sandro made his way up to Steve Keirn's office, his boots making soft thuds against the carpeted floor. Reaching the door, he raised a hand and knocked firmly.
"Come in," Steve's familiar voice called out.
Sandro pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Steve looked up from a stack of paperwork, his reading glasses perched low on his nose. When he saw who it was, he smiled faintly and gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sandro, good to see you. Sit down, kid."
Sandro nodded once and dropped into the chair, resting his hands loosely on his thighs. Steve noticed immediately how tense Sandro's posture was, the coiled readiness, the serious set to his jaw.
"What's going on?" Steve asked, setting his pen down. "Something tells me you didn't just come by for a chat."
Sandro exhaled slowly. "No, Steve. I'm here to report something. Something serious. Very serious. It concerns Alexa."
At the mention of Alexa's name, Steve's easygoing demeanor vanished. He sat up straighter, the faint smile wiped clean from his face.
"Alright," Steve said, his voice shifting into a much more serious register. "Tell me. What happened?"
Sandro took a breath, then launched into the full explanation.
He told Steve everything, how Alexa had been getting harassed for the past week, the anonymous calls and threatening texts, the way it had escalated until it had affected her ability to even come to work without fear.
He described how Barry, a man they had trusted to be part of the locker room, had orchestrated the entire thing out of petty vengeance for Alexa turning him down and that Sandro had called him out on the spot when he saw Barry harassing Alexa.
Steve's face paled as he listened. He didn't interrupt, didn't question, he just absorbed it all, the corners of his mouth tightening more and more with every word.
When Sandro finally finished, Steve didn't even ask to see the evidence. He simply picked up his work phone and punched in a number with urgency.
"Dusty, it's Steve," he said when the line connected. "I need you in my office right now. It's important. Very important."
There was a brief pause, and then Steve hung up, setting the receiver back down with a sharp click.
Sandro sat silently, feeling the heavy weight of the moment settle between them.
It wasn't long before heavy boots echoed down the hallway, and then the door swung open.
Dusty Rhodes stepped in, his broad frame filling the doorway. His usual jovial expression turned to confusion when he saw Sandro sitting there.
"What's goin' on, Steve?" Dusty asked, stepping further inside and closing the door behind him. "You sounded mighty serious on the phone."
Steve didn't waste time.
He gestured to Sandro. "Tell him."
Sandro nodded once, then repeated everything again for Dusty's benefit. He kept his voice steady and controlled, but there was no mistaking the heat underneath it.
By the time he finished, Dusty's ruddy face had gone pale, his lips pressed into a grim line.
"Son of a bitch," Dusty muttered, shaking his head. "That sorry excuse for a man..."
Sandro reached into his jacket and pulled out the USB.
"I have the proof here," he said quietly. "Screenshots, bank transfers, surveillance photos. It's all on this."
Steve grabbed the USB from him and plugged it into his computer without hesitation.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the office were the quiet clicking of the mouse and the low whir of the computer fan as Steve and Dusty reviewed the evidence.
The more they saw, the darker their expressions became. The texts were undeniable, crude, threatening, laced with jealousy and venom. The bank statements showed the money trail leading straight from Barry's account to the known harassers. The surveillance footage... well, that sealed it beyond any doubt.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 19 (2009)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style
Faction: Dragon Boom (Tag Team)
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion