"I'm sure he'll find something else." Alina's voice sounded small even to her own ears.
"Oh, I'm certain he will." Rosana's tone suggested the exact opposite. "Though I imagine it might be... challenging. The football world is quite small, you know. Word travels fast about these sorts of failures."
Each word was a needle, carefully placed to cause maximum damage. Alina felt her cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment.
"He's a good manager," she said, but even she could hear how weak it sounded.
"I'm sure you believe that, dear." Rosana reached across the table and patted Alina's hand. Her touch was cold despite the warm restaurant. "But perhaps it's time to face reality. You threw away the royal blade to marry a blunt tool. And now that tool has proven just how dull it really is."
The metaphor hung in the air between them like poison gas. Alina pulled her hand away from her aunt's touch.
Around them, the lunch crowd continued their important conversations. Deals worth millions were being struck over appetizers. Political careers were being made and broken over dessert. And here sat Alina, dealing with family drama that felt both incredibly important and utterly trivial at the same time.
"I should go." Alina reached for her purse.
"Nonsense. You've barely touched your salmon." Rosana gestured to the expensive fish going cold on the plate. "Besides, we haven't discussed what this means for the family."
'What this means for the family.' There it was. The real reason for this lunch. Not concern for Alina's wellbeing. Not sympathy for Eric's situation. This was about the Marrowgate reputation.
"The family will be fine, Aunt Rosana."
"Will it?" Rosana's mask slipped for just a moment, revealing the calculating mind beneath. "Do you know what people are saying? That Darius Marrowgate's daughter married so far beneath herself that her husband can't even manage a youth team properly."
The words hit their target perfectly. Alina felt tears threaten at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn't give her aunt the satisfaction.
"People can say whatever they want."
"Can they?" Rosana leaned forward slightly. "Because last I checked, you still carry the Marrowgate name in business circles. Your failures reflect on all of us."
The restaurant suddenly felt too warm, too crowded, too full of people who would spread this story like wildfire. Alina could already imagine the whispered conversations at charity galas, the knowing looks at board meetings.
"The Marrowgate girl who married that football failure."
"I need to go home." Alina stood up, her legs unsteady.
"Of course, darling." Rosana's smile returned, victorious and sharp. "Give my regards to Eric. I'm sure he's having a... challenging day."
Alina walked out of the restaurant on autopilot, past the expensive art and the crystal glasses and the people who thought they ruled the world. The valet brought her car quickly, probably sensing her need to escape.
As the Pulse GT pulled away from Le Jardin Noir, Alina caught a glimpse of her aunt in the rearview mirror. Rosana was already on her phone, probably sharing the news with someone else who mattered.
The poisoned lunch was over. But Alina knew the real damage was just beginning.
***
Meanwhile, Maddox, who was supposed to be having a 'challenging day' according to Rosana, was currently cruising through the highway.
The Vireon EchoBlade carved through the highway like a blue lightning bolt. Maddox pressed the accelerator harder, feeling the engine's eight cylinders respond with a growl that made his chest vibrate.
"This is what freedom tastes like."
The speedometer needle danced past 100, then 150, then kissed 200 mph. Other cars became blurs in his peripheral vision— ordinary people in ordinary vehicles living ordinary lives. Not today. Today he was flying.
A black F-Sport Vortex, worth over half a million terras, tried to keep pace in the left lane. Maddox glanced over and saw a middle-aged man gripping his steering wheel like his life depended on it.
The man's face was red with effort and maybe a little rage. Maddox gave him a casual wave and pushed the Vireon harder.
The F-Sport Vertex disappeared in his rearview mirror.
The wind howled past the windows even though they were sealed tight. Everything outside became a watercolor painting—green fields smearing into brown fences, white clouds blending into gray sky. The yellow lines on the asphalt strobed past like a hypnotic rhythm.
"I could drive this beauty forever."
A speed camera flashed as he rocketed past. Maddox didn't even flinch. The three-digit license plate on his car was better than any get-out-of-jail-free card. Noble privilege had its perks, even traffic cops knew better than to hassle someone with that kind of registration.
His phone buzzed against the dashboard. A quick glance showed a text from Jenna: ["Where are you? We're starving!"]
Maddox checked the time on the dash display. 5:20 PM. He had ten minutes before he was supposed to pick them up, but he'd been driving for nearly an hour. Time had melted away like ice cream in summer.
"One more lap."
He took the next exit and looped back onto the highway going the other direction. The Vireon handled the curve like it was dancing, tires gripping the asphalt with perfect precision. For a few more minutes, he let the engine sing its eight-cylinder song.
But reality had a way of creeping back in. His sister was waiting. She and her friends were probably hungry. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the morning's disaster at the training facility still gnawed at him like a toothache.
"Later. Deal with it later."
Maddox took the exit toward the city center, letting the Vireon slow down to merely illegal speeds instead of completely reckless ones.
The Crown and Anchor wasn't hard to find—its wooden sign swung gently in the breeze, and the parking lot was already half full with cars that cost less than this one's monthly insurance premium.
He pulled into a spot near the entrance and killed the engine. The sudden silence felt strange after an hour of automotive symphony. His ears were still ringing slightly from the road noise and adrenaline.
============
============
Please remember to vote with your power stones and golden tickets for the WSA 2025. Thank you.