Weapon seller in the world of magic-Chapter 820

Victor Steele held every chip that mattered more to her than her own pride, more than even her own reputation. He knew it. And he knew she knew it.

That was why he dared to act so recklessly.

Her jaw tightened. The stiffness on her face became harder to hide.

Around them, the whispers grew louder, more excited, more merciless. She closed her eyes briefly and understood that there was no way out this time.

When she opened them again, she turned to face Adam Smith.

He was looking at her in disbelief, his eyes filled with shock and hurt.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was frighteningly calm.

"President Steele is right, Adam. Everything that happened was my own choice. I didn’t lie to you before. You should have seen the reality a long time ago."

"Isabella, I don’t believe you’re that kind of person. You must be..."

"Enough, Adam."

Her voice cut in sharply, clean and decisive, leaving no room for argument.

They were standing under countless lights, surrounded by cameras and eyes that fed on scandal. If Adam Smith continued, if he truly crossed that line and openly challenged Victor here, then what awaited him would not be something she could shield him from.

There were not many people in this world she cared to protect. Fewer still whom she was able to protect.

Up until this moment, Adam Smith had been one of them.

Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hand and used her other hand to pry open his fingers, one by one. His grip loosened unwillingly, as if each finger carried hesitation and pain.

Then she turned away from him.

Step by step, she walked toward Victor.

Her posture was straight, her expression calm, a faint smile resting on her lips. When she reached him, she naturally took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his as if it had always been this way.

"Yes," she said softly, yet clearly enough for everyone to hear. "It was I who pursued President Steele. That’s why there were so many scandals between us."

A ripple passed through the crowd.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening with a hint of irony.

"But as the saying goes, there’s no smoke without fire. President Steele, if there really wasn’t even a little ambiguity between us, if there wasn’t even two parts closeness and three parts tenderness, how could the paparazzi have caught so much? How could it have made it into magazines and headlines again and again?"

The words were sharp, elegant, and perfectly placed.

Victor had initially intended to punish her lightly, just enough to vent his displeasure over Adam Smith. He had not expected her to turn the situation around so effortlessly, nor to use logic so clean it left no gaps.

If he truly had no feelings, then why would the rumors have exploded so wildly?

The corner of Victor’s mouth lifted faintly, though the darkness in his eyes deepened.

The entire banquet hall seemed to hold its breath.

Then Victor suddenly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

The man who had always appeared cold, resolute, and untouchable seemed, in that instant, to be brushed by something warm and indulgent. His gaze softened, focused on only one person in the room.

"Isabella Cruz," he said quietly, "you’ve always been sharp-tongued."

The anger that had simmered beneath his composure vanished without a trace. What remained was unmistakable indulgence, clear enough for anyone to see.

At that moment, no one in the crowd doubted it anymore.

Whether she had chased him first or not no longer mattered. For Victor to treasure her so openly, so unreservedly, was already an answer in itself.

She smiled again, sweet and fearless, and spoke with deliberate ease.

"Mr. Steele, you flatter me. As you said, I’m sharp-tongued. If no one were protecting me, I’d probably have been torn apart long ago in a place like this." She paused, her tone light yet cutting. "Given my reputation, I’m afraid I might implicate you. Wouldn’t it be better if you stayed away from me?"

A collective gasp spread through the room.

Bold.

Too bold.

Many silently cursed her for not knowing when to advance or retreat. Even if a powerful man favored her, shouldn’t she at least show restraint? Let alone someone as calculating and ruthless as Victor.

Just as everyone was certain she had finally crossed the line...

Victor moved.

He lifted his hand and gently raised her chin. Before she could react, he bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips.

It wasn’t deep, nor was it lingering.

But it was unmistakably doting.

The sweetness of it struck harder than any passionate display ever could.

Her face flushed instantly. Before she could even gather her thoughts, his slender finger tapped lightly against the tip of her nose.

"Isabella Cruz," he said, his voice low and amused, "this sharp-tongued version of you... I like it."

His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.

"Stay away from you?" He smiled faintly. "How could I?"

The words Victor had just spoken echoed through the banquet hall like a stone dropped into still water.

Hadn’t he clearly said before that Miss Cruz was the one who chased after him?

Then what did that kiss mean just now?

Why did it suddenly look as if President Steele was the one who couldn’t let her go?

The sudden reversal made everyone present look at Isabella Cruz with entirely new eyes. Yes, perhaps she had pursued him first, but judging from the scene in front of them, Victor was now the one openly claiming her, protecting her, indulging her without restraint. A man like him, who had never shown warmth in public, was standing there as if the world could watch and it would not matter.

How could such a woman be ordinary?

Isabella Cruz could clearly feel the shift in the gazes around her, the curiosity, the calculation, the reassessment. Yet she herself was completely at a loss as to what Victor was really planning.

She had spoken those words earlier on a surge of courage. If he had denied them, if he had drawn a clear line, then at least her life afterward might have been quieter.

She had not expected him to lean into the storm instead, to kiss her in public, to turn her into the undeniable center of attention.

She did not even dare to imagine what kind of chaos awaited her at school tomorrow. She had already noticed that Steele Group’s exclusive reporter was quietly jotting things down at the edge of the hall.

Leaning closer, she laughed awkwardly and whispered into Victor’s ear, "Mr. Steele, did you drink too much tonight?"

Victor’s arm slid around her waist, steady and firm, as he guided her onto the dance floor. The music resumed, smooth and elegant, drowning out the murmurs. He ignored Adam Smith’s pale, pained expression entirely and led Isabella Cruz into the rhythm as if nothing else in the room existed.

As they began to dance, heat crept up to her ears.

"Why?" he asked calmly. "Are you dissatisfied with how I handled it?"

"You didn’t have to make such a big scene because of me," she said softly. "And I..."

"It seems you’ve forgotten what I said before." Victor’s voice lowered slightly.

Her gaze drifted past his shoulder, and she suddenly noticed a man and a woman entering from the main entrance. The moment she recognized the man’s face, her entire body stiffened.

"Hey, Isabella, Mr. Steele," the man called out with forced cheer. "You really made it hard for us to find you!"

Victor sensed the change in her expression and immediately led her off the dance floor. Just as they stopped, they came face to face with Ethan Cruz and Chloe Bennet, who were hurrying toward them from the entrance.

It was obvious that the two of them had put a great deal of effort into attending this banquet. Ethan Cruz’s smile was wider than it had been in years, almost painfully ingratiating. His tone toward Isabella Cruz was gentler than she could ever remember.

"Mr dear Bella, why haven’t you come home for so many days?" he said warmly. "As your father, I’ve been thinking about you all the time. And your mother... is she feeling better lately? Where are you staying now? We haven’t moved your room or your mother’s room at home. We’re just waiting for the two of you to come back."

She knew Ethan Cruz’s character far too well.

Even faced with his sudden affection, her heart remained cold and unmoved. From the moment she and her mother walked out of the Zuo family, she had already stopped thinking of this man as her father.

She subconsciously glanced at Victor beside her.

His expression was calm, unreadable, without the slightest trace of surprise. At that moment, she understood clearly that Ethan Cruz’s appearance here was no coincidence at all.

It had been arranged.