Chapter 190: "What Matters Most To Me"

At that moment, Jordan finally lost the last thread of his patience. He stepped forward, fixing both Jeremiah and Lucilla with a furious stare.

"This is a ridiculous joke, both of you. Mistake or not, what I’m seeing is that you both benefited from this."

He turned toward Aren and took her hand, pulling her gently but urgently.

"Come on, Ariana. You don’t have to get yourself involved with either of these two. We can leave now. We can find a way to release you from this contract altogether, and sue them both."

Aren fell silent as she considered his words.

She knew she could simply walk away. She could follow Jordan out of the building, find a lawyer, and fight to sever herself from the Castellano contract before the situation became even more complicated.

But what would that accomplish?

The damage had already been done.

Everyone in that auditorium had seen the footage. They had seen Ariana Lombardi at her most humiliating, and no legal maneuver could force every witness to forget what had appeared on that enormous screen.

Even if she escaped the contract, the reputation attached to this body would follow her wherever she went.

’Come to think of it...’

Her thoughts gradually shifted from outrage toward something more practical.

’This incident could actually be beneficial for the Accardi contract.’

’All those strangers out there... they’ve already looked down on me because of Ariana’s past mistakes, no matter what I try to do or say.’

’If I face this instead of running from it, I could turn the situation to my advantage.’

’I could benefit both the Accardi contract and the Castellano contract, and make more money for Father.’

Something in her mind stalled.

She had just unconsciously called Gian Lombardi "Father," even in her own thoughts.

The realization felt strangely intimate, almost unsettling, but she didn’t want to dwell on it now. She turned back toward Jordan and met his worried gaze.

"Thank you, Jordan," she said with a small smile. "But I wish to stay and continue the press conference."

Jordan’s heart clenched at the sight of that gentle smile, so completely at odds with the gravity of the situation.

She had just been publicly humiliated in front of reporters, fans, and countless cameras, yet she was standing there calmly deciding to walk back onto the same stage.

Still, he knew what a scandal like this could do to someone. Something inside him refused to simply stand by and let her make such a decision, so he tried to protest.

"Ariana..."

"It’s fine, Jordan," Aren assured him. "I’m sure that everyone here already saw me in that light, even before they saw that footage. I can’t change what I’ve done in the past, but I know that I’ve changed a lot now."

She leaned closer to him, lowering her voice until only he could hear.

"What I truly care about is..." She hesitated, then looked directly into his eyes. "...Jordan, do you believe I’ve become a different person now?"

The question had been chosen carefully enough to sound almost ordinary, yet another, far more personal question lay beneath it.

Jordan’s gaze never left hers.

Her eyes were wide, clear, and unblinking, fixed on him with a yearning he had never seen before.

It made his throat tighten, as though the answer had suddenly become far more important than any words he’d prepared.

"...I’ve believed that since the first time we talked."

Aren’s face immediately brightened into a radiant smile.

"That’s what matters most to me."

Before Jordan could respond, hurried footsteps sounded from the stage. A member of the cleaning staff rushed down into the backstage area, breathing hard.

"Mister Castellano, Lady Lucilla, we’ve removed the screen. The stage is ready to continue whenever you are."

Lucilla seized upon the interruption instantly, as though she’d been waiting for precisely that opportunity.

"How wonderful! Great work!" she exclaimed, then turned toward Jeremiah. "I suppose we shouldn’t keep the guests waiting any longer. I’ll excuse myself and return to my duties."

She turned on her heel, already pointing in different directions as she began directing her staff.

With Lucilla gone, Aren finally turned toward Jeremiah. Her expression remained composed, and her voice was carefully measured, revealing none of the suspicion she had begun to harbor.

"I believe I must thank you again, Mister Castellano, for destroying the screen. That was indeed a great throw."

Jeremiah offered her a flawless smile.

"Oh, no need to thank me, my dear Ariana. I only did what was the best solution available at the time."

Aren nodded and slipped her hand around Jordan’s arm.

"Then I suppose I’ll see you up there, Mister Castellano. Let’s finish what we’ve started."

She turned away with Jordan, and together they headed toward the stage, ready to take their places at the table once more and continue the event.

Left behind, Jeremiah’s smile remained perfectly intact as he watched them go, his gaze following their backs until they disappeared up the stairs.

"Marco?" he called, flicking a hand to summon his ever-loyal manager.

Marco finally had a chance to speak, after standing in the background throughout the entire conversation.

"Yes, Young Boss?" he asked, approaching cautiously.

Jeremiah continued watching Aren’s back as she climbed the stairs.

"What does it take to make her smile like that..." He paused, his expression turning faintly thoughtful. "...but at me?"

Marco’s expression instantly became awkward.

He cleared his throat.

"Um... perhaps start by not making her wear a strip-club outfit, not calling her ’The Sex Bomb’ as a stage name, not being deliberately evasive about the contract terms, and perhaps — just perhaps — not threatening her openly by saying you intend to make ten times more money from her than the amount you invested."

Every word that left Marco’s mouth seemed to punch another tiny crack into Jeremiah’s flawless smile.

Regardless, Jeremiah pretended he hadn’t heard a single thing, simply changing the subject instead.

"Lucilla’s people dragged that technician and his team out through the west wing, didn’t they?"

Marco blinked at the abrupt change.

"Uh... yeah, Young Boss. But why are you asking?"

Jeremiah didn’t answer directly.

"Did our men happen to park at the west exit as well?"

Marco frowned.

"Yeah, Young Boss, but why do you—"

The words died in Marco’s throat as realization dawned across his face, and both his eyebrows shot upward.

"Don’t tell me you want to—"

Jeremiah’s smile widened once more. This time, mischief gleamed behind it, accompanied by something considerably more dangerous.

"Bring those morons back to my mansion, will you?" he said pleasantly. "I believe I could have a private conversation with them after this."