"Morgan Edge, you've gone too far."
A solemn, aged voice rang out, calm yet firm.
As the voice echoed, everyone instinctively turned their heads toward its source, their expressions shifting to surprise.
An old man, dressed in a well-tailored tuxedo with silver trim, stepped forward. His thin fra, gray hair, lined face, and serious gaze exuded an air of grace and elegance. Despite his aged appearance, there was an undeniable dignity in his bearing.
With each asured step, he tapped his cane against the ground, the sound crisp in the silence.
The mont they recognized him, the previously vocal mbers of the elite, those who had been pressing Bardi to apologize, fell silent. Their expressions stiffened, and they quickly shut their mouths.
This man was the patriarch of the Colvin family, a lineage that had stood firm in tropolis since the city's inception. His reputation was well-established, known for his rigid aristocratic manner, his seriousness, and his unsmiling yet dignified presence. He embodied the very essence of old-world nobility.
He was also a mber of the Family.
Morgan Edge felt an unexpected tension rise within him. He couldn't quite understand why the Colvin patriarch had chosen this mont to reprimand him. After all, he and several other traditional aristocrats had previously opposed Bardi's inclusion in the Family. And now, suddenly, he was being called out for overstepping?
Thoughts raced through his mind as he weighed his next move. Though he was the head of his own family, even he had to tread carefully around this man. The influence of the old nobility was deeply rooted, and maintaining his family's prestige required their tacit support. The Colvin patriarch, in particular, was soone best left unprovoked.
Unlike Morgan Edge, whose family had risen to prominence only in recent generations, the Colvin family had been entrenched in tropolis since 1542. Their legacy stretched far beyond his own, and their deep-rooted connections within the city's elite far exceeded his influence.
In an instant, Morgan Edge's expression shifted. A fleeting look of apology crossed his face as he slightly inclined his head toward the Colvin patriarch.
"My apologies, Mr. Colvin," he said smoothly. "I invited soone I shouldn't have, and it has made the evening… uncomfortable."
Morgan's calculated mind worked quickly. He could tell that the Colvin patriarch had taken offense at his attempt to publicly humiliate Bardi. Such behavior lacked the dignity expected of true nobility.
It was understandable, using a handful of troublemaking elites to pressure Bardi into an apology had been a deliberate move on Morgan's part. But evidently, the Colvin patriarch found it distasteful.
His apology was polished and graceful, leaving no room for anyone to accuse him of rudeness.
The Colvin patriarch paused, his grip firm on his black lacquered cane, its silver inlays glinting under the lights. His sharp gaze locked onto Morgan Edge.
"You should be apologizing to Mr. Bardi, not to ," he said bluntly. "Set aside your vanity, Morgan Edge."
His words were cutting—harsh, even. And worst of all, he had said them in front of everyone, offering Morgan no chance to save face.
Morgan Edge's expression montarily froze. A flicker of irritation passed through his eyes, though he quickly suppressed it, his breathing steadying within seconds.
The weight of those words hung heavily in the room.
People around them narrowed their eyes, absorbing the scene with quiet astonishnt. A real noble had just scolded Morgan Edge—publicly, and without the slightest concern for his reputation. He had called him vain. And with that one word, spoken in front of tropolis's elite, the damage was done.
Going forward, whenever Morgan Edge's na was ntioned, whispers of his vanity would inevitably follow.
And coming from the Colvin patriarch, a man whose aristocratic bearing and discipline were universally recognized, such an assessnt was almost impossible to shake off.
The Colvin patriarch did not linger. In keeping with his noble etiquette, he made sure to acknowledge Morgan Edge directly before continuing forward, his walking stick tapping lightly against the floor as he moved toward Bardi.
Once he reached him, he inclined his head slightly in apology.
"Mr. Tratescu, I apologize for the disturbance."
It was then that the surrounding guests realized, Bardi's last na was Tratescu. An unusual na, one that many found unfamiliar.
Yet no one was surprised by the Colvin patriarch's behavior. His disciplined adherence to aristocratic decorum was well known. If an apology was warranted, he would give it, because that was what true nobility did.
Not like Morgan Edge, who seed to believe that wealth alone equated to nobility.
True aristocracy was sothing cultivated over generations. It could not be bought.
"It's fine, just call Bardi," he replied with a light smile. "It's nothing. I don't mind."
With that, Bardi lifted a glass of champagne and casually handed it to the Colvin patriarch, sharing a toast with him.
His composure was effortless, his deanor perfectly at ease.
The sight sent a ripple of unease through the room.
It was rare, almost unheard of for anyone to interact so naturally with the Colvin patriarch. The old nobleman did not impose an overt pressure, but his presence alone was often enough to make others tense and self-conscious. Even the most accomplished individuals found themselves struggling to maintain their poise in his presence.
Yet Bardi?
Completely unruffled.
It had been this way from the very start of the banquet.
And that made people wonder.
anwhile, among the younger elite, those who had previously called for Bardi to apologize, resentnt simred.
They had been so eager to put Bardi in his place earlier. But now? Now, they couldn't even speak up. The Colvin patriarch's presence made sure of that.
They glared at Bardi, their expressions sour.
"Has Lex found you?"
After Bardi and Colvin clinked glasses, Bardi took a sip and asked.
The Colvin patriarch's eyes brightened slightly, the deep lines on his face seeming to ease just a little. He nodded.
"Yes, Lex is truly a genius. I agreed."
The banquet remained eerily quiet, with everyone attentively listening to the conversation between Bardi and the Colvin patriarch. However, when they heard the patriarch's words, a sense of confusion spread among the guests.
No one knew exactly what he had agreed to.
Morgan Edge's expression darkened, his gaze fixed on the two n. A deep unease crept into his chest.
Things were slipping out of his control.
In the past, even with soone as deeply entrenched in aristocratic traditions as the Colvin patriarch, Morgan had always managed to maneuver situations to serve his own interests. It was how he had solidified his position as the head of his family.
But now...
Now, for the first ti in a long while, he felt a flicker of irritation, an unsettling sense that things were no longer playing out as he had anticipated.
Bardi idly ran a finger over the rim of his glass, the clear champagne inside swaying slightly with the motion. His gaze remained on the liquid for a mont before he slowly lifted his eyes to et the Colvin patriarch's.
There was an unspoken pressure in his stare.
"So," Bardi said evenly, "you didn't step in earlier because you were watching , weren't you?"
The Colvin patriarch's expression stiffened ever so slightly.
Because that was exactly what he had been doing.
He had never t Bardi before. Up until now, it had always been Lex who approached him, engaging in multiple discussions that had ultimately persuaded him.
Tonight, he had deliberately held back, choosing to observe Bardi's behavior from the sidelines, to analyze him, to assess his temperant, to gauge what advantages could be gained from their future dealings.
That was why he had only intervened when the pressure on Bardi had gone too far, 'rescuing' him just enough to extend a small favor.
But clearly, he had miscalculated.
"I don't like your thods," Bardi said calmly. "Lex made the agreent with you. Consider half of it revoked."
At those words, a visible change ca over the Colvin patriarch.
His grip on his cane tightened, his fingers trembling slightly. His pupils flickered with an unmistakable trace of unease.
For the first ti, his carefully controlled breathing faltered, and he exhaled in an uneven rhythm.
He quickly adjusted himself, inhaling deeply before speaking.
"My apologies," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "I should have stepped forward much earlier. I was not as forthcoming as I should have been."
Then, to the shock of everyone in the room, he bowed his head slightly in apology.
The entire banquet hall seed to freeze.
Expressions of disbelief spread across the faces of the gathered elite.
Was that… panic?
People blinked, as if struggling to confirm whether they had truly seen what had just unfolded. So even rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
The Colvin patriarch—unsmiling, rigid, and known for his unshakable aristocratic deanor had just shown a mont of hesitation.
A mont of vulnerability.
And for what?
Why would soone of his stature apologize, let alone show a hint of fear toward a man who had once clawed his way out of the slums?
Morgan Edge's expression had turned utterly grim.
What kind of deal had they made...?
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