Chapter 159: "A Formal Apology"

Gian turned fully toward Jordan, surprise crossing his face, followed by quiet approval.

Eduardo’s expression changed as well.

Before he could respond, Jordan continued in the same firm tone.

"Earlier, you dismissed Ariana in front of everyone. You accused her of forcing Nazario to make that confession and of disrupting the competition."

His voice grew more resolute.

"But if it weren’t for everything she did, none of this would have come to light. I believe you owe her a formal apology in front of everyone here."

A fresh wave of murmurs swept through the warehouse. Several spectators nodded in agreement, while others exchanged thoughtful looks, apparently considering Jordan’s argument.

Among the Dons present, Gian was the first to respond.

"I’m afraid I agree with your son, Don Eduardo," he said calmly, though there was unmistakable firmness beneath his voice. "My daughter had her life endangered by your other son. I believe she deserves an apology just as much as Lady Natalia of House Porto."

Caio, standing beside him, wasted no time supporting the demand. He folded his arms across his chest and fixed Eduardo with an unwavering stare.

"I didn’t come here to watch my woman be dismissed as though she were of no importance, Don Eduardo. She is serving a contract for your House, and she has done more than enough to prove her worth today."

His expression hardened.

"An apology is the least you could offer."

Giovanni also considered the matter for a moment before finally nodding.

"Don Eduardo, my friend, I’m afraid I must agree with the two of them."

Being the subject of the debate, Aren was easily the most flustered person in the warehouse. Her gaze darted from one serious face to another as she tried to understand why everyone was making such a huge issue out of something that, to her, seemed so minor.

’Why does everyone have to make this so complicated?’

What made it worse was the sheer number of people now watching her. The attention made heat steadily creep into her cheeks.

Tentatively, she reached over and lightly tugged at Jordan’s arm, intending to tell him that there was really no need to make such a fuss over the matter. But before she could say anything, Eduardo had already reached his decision.

"You are all correct," he said from above the ring.

The warehouse quieted.

Every eye turned toward him.

The hard crease between Eduardo’s brows gradually disappeared, replaced by an expression of quiet resignation. Without another word, he descended the stairs from the ring and walked toward Aren.

When he stopped before her, his posture was formal, and his voice carried the full weight of the Marchetti Don’s authority.

"I owe you a formal apology, Lady Ariana. You must forgive me for my earlier hostility and my shortsighted judgment. I wrongfully accused you and diminished the effort you made to help our House and preserve the integrity of the competition."

Then, without warning, Eduardo lowered himself into a deep, ninety-degree bow.

"I ask you to forgive me for my mistake."

The entire warehouse seemed to freeze.

A stunned silence spread through the spectators.

A Don bowing like this was not something people witnessed often. In fact, many of those present couldn’t remember ever seeing Eduardo lower himself in such a manner before another person.

Not even before another Don.

Aren was horrified by the attention. Her eyes widened, and she immediately began waving both hands in frantic protest.

"Ah! You really don’t have to do that!"

She looked around helplessly.

"I’ve only done what I thought was right. I... I just didn’t want Jordan to suffer such an injustice..."

Her gaze finally found Jordan.

Her eyes practically begged him to rescue her from this unfamiliar social situation.

Jordan caught the look immediately, and a small smile appeared on his face. He stepped forward and gently helped his father straighten.

"Ariana wants to say that your apology is much appreciated, Father," he said, his tone warm with gratitude. "I personally appreciate it as well."

Eduardo looked directly at his son.

For a brief moment, something flickered through his eyes.

Respect.

And perhaps even a trace of that old hope he had once felt for Jordan, back when he had decided to name his eldest son as his heir.

"Then I must thank you, Lady Ariana," Eduardo said, his tone less severe now. "And I believe I must also thank you for..."

He paused.

His voice softened almost imperceptibly.

"...for helping my Sofia during the second round."

Aren blinked in quiet surprise, warmth spreading across her chest. Before the moment could linger, Eduardo turned toward the gathered soldiers and staff.

"Now, we cannot allow the Trials to be delayed any further. Let the final round continue with the two excellent finalists we have here."

At once, cheers erupted from the soldiers and staff.

"Yes! Let the fight continue!"

"It’s a duel now!"

"Young Boss! It’s your first duel! Don’t let us down!"

"Lady Ariana, I root for you! You’ve got to win this!"

"Yeah! You’ve got this, Lady Ariana! Young Boss stands absolutely zero chance against you!"

Jordan couldn’t help laughing.

"Jeez. Look at you guys. Do you really have so little confidence in me?"

The soldiers laughed in response.

The atmosphere, which had been weighed down by accusations and tension only moments earlier, suddenly came alive again.

Aren, meanwhile, had already fallen back into her familiar habit of bowing repeatedly toward everyone cheering for her.

"Thank you very much! I’ll try my best. Jordan is very strong! He’s very good at this. It’s going to be a valuable experience!"

Beside her, however, Oscar wasn’t sharing anyone’s enthusiasm. He pointed dramatically at himself, his face twisting into an exaggerated expression of suffering.

"Um, excuse me? I’m the severely injured one here. Does anybody care to give me some medical attention? My ribs are falling apart!"

Aren’s head instantly snapped toward him, only now remembering that he was injured.

"Ah! I’m sorry! I completely forgot!"

She spun around, frantically searching the crowd.

"Medics! Medics! Please come over and help!"

The warehouse quickly became busy again as the medical team hurried toward Oscar, who was wincing and clutching his ribs.

He continued his dramatic complaints while the medics examined him, apparently determined to make sure everyone appreciated the enormous sacrifice he had supposedly made.

The sight drew warm laughter from several of the surrounding soldiers. Gradually, the hum of anticipation spread through the crowd as everyone prepared to watch the final duel.

Everyone, that was, except Natalia.

She remained standing on the ring for several moments, her posture flawless and her serene smile still perfectly in place. But beneath that composed exterior, the sight before her was becoming increasingly unbearable.

The attention that had belonged to her only moments ago had completely shifted elsewhere...

And toward Aren entirely.

Aren kept moving between Jordan and Oscar with her flustered smile, as though she already belonged to the Marchetti family.

Even Eduardo couldn’t quite hide the amused look in his eyes as he stood and watched the Lombardi heiress from the side.

Natalia’s fingers slowly curled at her sides.

’Of course.’

’It always comes back to her.’

Without allowing any of her frustration to reach her face, Natalia turned away. She descended from the ring with measured grace, preparing to rejoin her father and return to her seat in the gallery.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Her heels clicked sharply against the concrete floor.

Every step carried her farther from the center of attention.

Every step felt like another deliberate stab driven into the girl with short platinum hair, who was still smiling brightly on the opposite side of the ring.