~*~Oi, Toddler Years~*~
Bella pulled into the driveway of their new home, exhaling a long, contented breath as she leaned back against the seat. The day had been productive—Mattie and Alanah had helped her pick out some final touches for the house, small details that would make it feel more like theirs. But there was still plenty of work to be done. Moving in was one thing, but settling in? That was a whole other battle.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out, the crisp air filling her lungs as she walked up the front steps. The house, standing tall and proud just outside of the city, was everything she and Mal had dreamed of—a place with space, a place where they could breathe, and a place where their daughter could grow up surrounded by more than just the noise of New York City. There was a stable for the horses, a gym with room for a full wrestling ring, and enough space to finally feel like they weren’t stacked on top of each other. It was theirs.
Pushing open the front door, Bella stepped inside, setting her things down before making her way into the living room. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.
There, in the middle of the room, was Mal—her ever-loving, sometimes too-laid-back husband—dancing. And not just a casual sway, but full-on moving to whatever song was playing from the speaker. And right there with him, standing—yes, standing—on the coffee table, was their one-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Máire. She wobbled slightly as she giggled, her tiny hands flailing in excitement, her dirty blonde curls bouncing wildly. But Mal was right next to her, hands at the ready, encouraging her with that signature grin of his.
Bella’s heart leapt into her throat.
“Malachi Noah O’Connell!”
Her voice cut through the music, and Mal immediately froze, eyes going wide like a kid caught stealing cookies. Máire, however, clapped her hands, clearly enjoying herself far too much.
“Uh, hey, Bells,” Mal said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re home early.”
“I am home exactly when I was supposed to be!” Bella shot back, crossing her arms. “And what exactly are you doing letting our daughter dance on the damn coffee table?”
Mal glanced at Máire, who looked up at him with the biggest, most innocent smile. He let out a small chuckle. “Well, technically, she got up there herself. I just... supervised.”
Bella pinched the bridge of her nose. “Supervised? Mal, she’s not even two yet!”
“She’s got great balance,” Mal defended, lifting Máire off the table and setting her onto the couch instead. She immediately pouted, but a quick tickle from her father had her giggling again. “She’s a natural, mo ghrá. She’s fearless. I mean, look at her.”
Bella sighed, shaking her head as she stepped forward, gently brushing Máire’s wild curls back from her face. “I know she is,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “But she’s also our baby. And our baby does not need to be standing on furniture and giving her mother a heart attack.”
Mal smirked, wrapping an arm around Bella’s waist, pulling her in close. “Noted. But you gotta admit... she’s got moves.”
Bella rolled her eyes, but the fight was already lost. She leaned into him, sighing as Máire crawled into her lap, snuggling against her. “Yeah, yeah. Just... let’s keep the dancing on the ground from now on, okay?”
“Promise,” Mal said, holding up a hand in mock solemnity before pressing a quick kiss to her temple.
Bella shook her head again, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Chaos or not, this was home. And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
After settling Máire down with some of her toys, Bella wandered through the house, letting herself take it all in. Even with the moving boxes still scattered around, this place already felt like home. It was theirs.
Her footsteps took her to the room that was meant to be her office-slash-library, though right now, it was still a mess of sealed boxes and half-unpacked shelves. There was so much to do, but something caught her eye—the faint smell of sawdust, a few stray wood shavings on the floor, and tools neatly stacked in the corner. Someone had been in here earlier, working.
She stepped further into the room, her brows knitting together. Mal. It had to be him. But what exactly was he doing in here?
“Mal?” she called out, glancing over her shoulder. “What exactly have you been up to in here?”
A few seconds later, Mal leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Was wondering when you’d notice.”
Bella folded her arms. “Notice what?”
He nodded toward the far wall, and that’s when she saw it. A partially built wooden structure, sleek and sturdy, taking shape against the wall. It wasn’t just any shelving unit—it was a trophy case.
Her breath hitched as she took a few slow steps forward, reaching out to run her fingers along the smooth, unfinished wood. The edges were precise, the foundation solid. He had put real effort into this—more than just a quick project.
“Mal…” she breathed, turning back to look at him.
He pushed off the doorframe, stepping beside her, his hands slipping into his pockets. “You’re a two-time SCW Bombshell Internet Champion now, Bells. Figured it was time you had a proper place for everything you’ve earned. Not just the titles, but all of it—the plaques, the medals, the moments that matter.”
Bella swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Mal shrugged, ever the nonchalant one, but she could see the pride in his expression, the way his eyes softened as he looked at her. “Yeah, I did. You’ve busted your ass for everything you’ve got. You deserve a place to see it all, to remind yourself who the hell you are when you need it.”
Bella let out a shaky breath before stepping closer, pressing herself against him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered against his chest, her voice thick with emotion.
“Only for you,” he murmured back, his arms securing around her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself just exist in this moment, in his warmth, in the weight of what this meant. She thought about the journey—every setback, every victory, every time she’d doubted herself, wondering if she was good enough, if she was meant for this life.
And now here she was. A champion. Again.
She took a small step back, looking at the case once more. It wasn’t just about the titles. It was about everything she’d fought for—her name, her legacy, her ability to stand tall in a business that never made anything easy.
“I want this to be more than just for titles,” she said quietly, running her fingers along the wood again. “I want this to be for everything that’s made me who I am. Every match that changed me. Every moment that reminded me why I do this.”
Mal nodded, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Then that’s exactly what it’ll be.”
“And I want your titles in there too.” Bella stated matter-of-factly, “We are a team after all.”
“Really?” Mal said and she just nodded with a smile, “Well I was just going to put my stuff up out in the new workout area but...Ok then, I’ll make sure to add space.”
Bella took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Good,” she said, her voice firm, resolute. “Because I’ve got so much more to add to it.”
Mal smirked, looping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close once more. “Damn right you do.”
And with that, Bella felt it—an unshakable certainty, a fire burning deep inside her. This was only the beginning.
~*~The Fire That Never Dies~*~
Bella sat on the back enclosed deck at her mother’s home, her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea as she watched a late winter, slightly warm wind whipping around the loose leaves that somehow missed the clean up before winter had fully hit. The night was quiet, save for the rustling leaves and the occasional distant howl of something wild. She had always found solace in the stillness, but tonight, her thoughts refused to settle.
Across from her, Laura "Phoenix" Madison sat with her own cup, her sharp blue eyes scanning her daughter's face, reading her like an open book. Decades in the business had taught her to recognize the storm brewing inside a fighter before they even spoke a word.
Bella sighed, staring into the liquid in her mug like it held the answers she was looking for. “I don’t get it, Mom. I worked my ass off. I fought tooth and nail to win that title, and just like that—it was gone. I lost it before I even had the chance to build something with it. I mean at least I got it back but...” She shook her head. “Where did I go wrong?”
Laura took a long sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her chest, before leaning back in her chair with a knowing smirk. “You’re asking the wrong question, kid.”
Bella frowned, glancing up. “What do you mean?”
Laura exhaled slowly, her mind drifting back—way back—to a time when she was in Bella’s shoes. When she was young, hungry, and questioning herself in the wake of a loss.
“Let me tell you something,” she began, her voice low but steady. “When I first stepped into PWSWF, I wasn’t some big name. I wasn’t handed a damn thing. But then I got my hands on the X-Division Championship.” A small chuckle escaped her lips. “That damn title changed hands more times than I could count, and every time I lost it, I fought like hell to get it back. Five times, to be exact. Five times, I fell. Five times, I clawed my way back.”
Bella sat up a little straighter, listening intently.
“And then, one day, I stopped losing it. I held onto it so damn long that the company couldn’t ignore me anymore. They saw me for what I was. Not just a champion—but the champion. The one who set the damn standard. I built my name on that title, made it mean more than even some of the so-called main eventers. They couldn’t touch me, not in that ring, not in reputation.” Laura’s fingers tapped against her mug, her gaze distant as memories flickered through her mind. “I stood toe to toe with the elite, Bella. I was almost burned alive for it, and you know what I did?”
Bella’s brow furrowed. “You got back up.”
Laura’s lips curled into a proud smile. “Damn right, I did. And I came back even harder.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s easy to sit in doubt, to let yourself question everything. The world wants you to do that. They want you to believe you aren’t good enough, that you can’t hang, that you’re just another name in the shuffle. But you?” She pointed at Bella. “You have built a world where you survive on the idea of pissing those naysayers off. So do it. No hesitation. No fear.”
Bella swallowed hard, feeling the heat in her mother’s words.
“You don’t wait for them to ask ‘How did she do it?’ You don’t let them breathe long enough to doubt you. You go out there, and before they even have a chance to whisper your name, you prove it. You live with the audacity and gumption that the Gods themselves gave you.”
A shiver ran down Bella’s spine—not from the cold, but from the fire in her mother’s words.
Laura smirked, leaning back again, her job done. “So stop asking where you went wrong. You didn’t go wrong, Bells. You just hadn’t finished the job yet. Now you got it back, now you don’t give them the fucking chance to do it again.”
Bella exhaled, a slow, steady breath. The weight in her chest wasn’t gone—but it had shifted. It no longer felt like failure. It felt like fuel.
And she was ready to burn.
~*~Rules of Engagement: The Queen Stands Her Ground~*~
Bella Madison sat forward, her SCW Bombshells Internet Championship draped over her shoulder like a badge of honor—no, like a warning sign to anyone daring to take it from her. The glow of the camera lights reflected off the gold plate, but it wasn’t the title shining the brightest in this moment. It was her. The fire in her eyes. The sheer determination etched across her face. The undeniable presence of a woman who wasn’t about to let anything be taken from her.
"Alright, Harper. Let’s talk."
Her voice was steady, unshaken. But there was something behind it—a quiet, brewing storm waiting to unleash itself the moment that bell rang.
"When I became SCW Bombshells Internet Champion, I didn’t just take a title—I took a responsibility. A responsibility to stand my ground, to prove that I’m not some transitional champion, not some flash-in-the-pan success story that fades before her name is even carved into history. I dared this locker room to step up. I put out the challenge to every single woman back there who thought she had it in her to take me down. And you? You answered the call."
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was one of anticipation.
"That means something, Harper. That means you’re not afraid to fight. It means you want to stand in this ring and prove you deserve to be here just as much as I do. And you know what? I respect that. I respect you. But respect?"
She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head.
"Respect doesn’t mean I’m about to let you take this from me."
She leaned forward, her grip tightening on the championship, fingers tapping against the gold plate as she measured her next words carefully—words that would burn their way into Harper Mason’s mind long before the fight even started.
"Do you know what it feels like to lose something just as fast as you gained it? To fight, to claw for something, only to have it slip through your fingers before you even have the chance to breathe it in? I do. And I refuse—absolutely refuse—to let it happen again. I am not just hungry for gold, Harper. I am starving to keep it. And that? That makes me more dangerous than I have ever been."
Her smirk faded. Now, there was only cold, calculated truth.
"You stepping up isn’t a challenge to me—it’s a confirmation. It confirms what I already knew: I’m the one running this division. I am the standard. I am the one standing at the top of this damn mountain, and I dared the best to come and fight me. And you did. So congratulations, Harper—you get the honor of trying. But that’s all it’s going to be. A damn attempt. Because let me tell you something right now—you are not taking this from me. Not now. Not ever."
Bella tilted her head, the fire behind her eyes burning even hotter.
"I don’t care how much heart you have. I don’t care how much fight you bring. I don’t care if you’re coming at me like a bat out of hell, looking to light this whole damn ring up like it’s the Fourth of July. Because the only fireworks that are going to matter when it’s all over? Are the ones celebrating me still standing here as your SCW Bombshells Internet Champion."
She adjusted the title, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing.
"You can try, Harper. You can come at me with everything you’ve got, and I hope you do. I want the fight. I want the challenge. I want you to push me, to make me dig deeper, to test every ounce of skill, strength, and willpower I have. But at the end of the night, when you’re staring up at those bright arena lights, gasping for breath, you’re going to realize what I already know."
Bella stood up, holding the championship in front of the camera, making sure the entire world saw what she was fighting for.
"You don’t get to hold this. Not yet. Not while I’m still breathing, fighting, standing. You can get close. You can give me everything you have. But you will not break me. You will not take this from me. Because I have fought to be here. I have bled for this. And I will be damned if I let this slip away without one hell of a war."
She placed the title back over her shoulder, running a hand over the plate as if reaffirming her claim.
"So bring it, Harper. Bring everything. Make me fight like hell to keep this. Because that’s exactly what I plan on doing. And when the dust settles, and the match is over, and you’re left wondering where it all went wrong… you’ll understand that you never stood a chance to begin with."
She exhaled, stepping back from the camera, the weight of her words heavier than ever.
"See you at Climax Control, Harper. And trust me—you're going to wish you never answered my call."
And with that, Bella turned and walked off, leaving nothing but her words, her fire, and her undeniable dominance behind her.
