Ethan Sullivan's fingers traced the edge of his mask, his gaze settling on the slender figure in the arena.
Sophia Sullivan had actually come.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
Julian Roscente approached quickly, following his line of sight.
"You seem quite close with the Robinson heiress," Ethan remarked evenly.
Julian spread his hands helplessly.
"Don't tease me, Mr. Sullivan. You know how families push arranged meetings."
He paused, frustration creeping into his tone.
"I wasn't in good form last time and offended Miss Robinson. Went to apologize only to find myself blocked."
The corner of Ethan's mouth lifted.
"No wonder she stepped on you."
Julian choked on his reply.
The man always knew where to strike.
Only Sophia could temper that sharp tongue.
"Master Sullivan, you should keep your mask on," Julian sighed dramatically. "That smile of yours chills the blood."
Their banter came naturally.
"Speaking of which, aren't you acquainted with Miss Sullivan? When she was cornered earlier, why not intervene?"
Julian shook his head without waiting for an answer.
"Cold as ever. No wonder A-City's socialites avoid you."
Ethan's expression remained unchanged.
"Meddling invites trouble." He lifted his gaze lazily. "Wasn't that just demonstrated?"
Years of restraint had taught him to compete anonymously.
Even after revealing his recovered mobility, he kept cards close.
More importantly, he knew Sophia and Isabella Robinson's temperaments.
Neither would tolerate manipulation.
Julian smirked knowingly.
"Is that so? Yet someone secretly asked me to clear obstacles for Miss Sullivan." He raised a meaningful brow. "Seems fists may fly soon."
Some understandings needed no words.
The question remained—when would this iron tree blossom?
Tension crackled in the inner arena.
Sophia adjusted her protective gear with calm precision.
Her first competition in A-City.
Nearby, Liam Winston's glare burned into her, venomous and unrelenting.
Isabella scowled in irritation.
"That idiot won't stop staring. I'd like to gouge his eyes out."
"Don't dirty your hands." Sophia's voice stayed cool. "Attention only encourages him."
The irony wasn't lost on her.
Three years of marriage earned no glance from Liam.
Now divorce couldn't shake his shadow.
Being ignored stoked Liam's fury.
"Sophia, return the blood jade." His voice cut cold. "I dislike debts."
Even he couldn't tell—
Did the heirloom matter more, or the woman he'd once discarded?
Only knew her gaze alone could unravel him.
Pride like his had never tasted such humiliation.
Sophia laughed softly.
"If it's the Winston heirloom, I'll gladly return it."
Her eyes met his, sharp as blades.
"But Mr. Winston—are you fit to be its heir?"