His tone remained completely calm.
"Any publication that falsely states or implies that Miss Ava fabricated her injury, deliberately injured herself, caused the cabinet incident, or participated in any alleged scheme without evidence will be treated as a separate matter."
He lowered the paper.
"Our client has instructed us to seek immediate correction and removal of any such material, together with preservation of the original publication and associated records."
That last sentence made several journalists look up.
"And should any organization refuse to comply, our firm has instructions to pursue all available legal remedies, including claims for damages, injunctive relief, and any other relief available under the applicable laws."
He gave the room one final look.
"The notice speaks for itself."
He handed his copy to the assistant.
"We have nothing further to add."
The assistant continued distributing the remaining documents.
The lawyer stepped back beside Ava's empty chair.
The Dean of Affairs stared at the papers for a moment before clearing his throat.
"Well..."
He looked toward the journalists.
"I believe that brings this discussion to an appropriate conclusion."
He stood.
The others followed.
The Vice President shook hands with the Crownside teachers.
The Crownside students shook hands with the Averis students.
The Dean and Head of Student Affairs exchanged handshakes with the Averis teachers before turning toward the cameras.
Even the Vice President stepped closer for the photographs.
The two Averis girls stood beside the Crownside students, their expressions carefully composed.
Flash after flash filled the hall.
For the cameras, both schools stood together.
Teachers.
Students.
Officials.
Representatives.
No hostility.
No division.
Only smiles, handshakes, and the appearance of unity.
And with that, the press conference came to an end.
The Farewell and Welcome Evening
That evening, the event hall of one of the most expensive hotels in the city came alive beneath the soft glow of the hotel's evening lights.
The hotel itself rose several stories above the surrounding buildings, its exterior a combination of pale stone, dark glass, and sweeping architectural lines that reflected the city lights.
It wasn't decorated like a palace or covered in unnecessary gold. Its luxury came from the materials, the proportions, and the effortless way everything seemed to belong exactly where it was.
A wide driveway curved toward the entrance beneath a long glass-and-stone canopy.
Luxury cars arrived one after another.
Black executive sedans rolled quietly toward the entrance before being taken away by valets. Sleek SUVs followed, their headlights sweeping briefly across the polished stone.
A few sports cars arrived behind them, their engines drawing the occasional curious glance from students and hotel guests passing through the lobby.
Security personnel in neat dark uniforms stood discreetly around the entrance rather than crowding it.
Valets moved quickly between vehicles, opening doors and guiding guests toward the entrance while other workers checked invitations and directed drivers toward the private parking area.
Inside, the hotel's main lobby opened into a tall, airy space.
Smooth cream-colored stone covered the floor, reflecting the warm light from long recessed fixtures overhead.
Dark walnut panels broke up the pale walls, while brushed-brass details appeared around the reception desk, elevator doors, and decorative shelving.
There were large arrangements of fresh greenery rather than enormous flower displays, along with comfortable designer sofas positioned around low stone tables.
The hotel workers moved almost silently.
A concierge greeted arriving guests.
Servers carried trays of chilled drinks through the lobby.
Event staff checked the hall entrance and adjusted small details on the tables whenever something looked out of place.
Nothing felt stiff.
It simply felt expensive.
The event hall was further inside the hotel.
Unlike a ballroom prepared for hundreds of guests, tonight's space had been arranged for a small, carefully selected gathering.
Only a few Crownside students were attending—no more than twelve—along with four teachers and the Dean of Affairs.
The ten students from the Averis all-girls school were also present with their two teachers, the Vice President, and several of their parents.
The evening was primarily a farewell gathering for the Averis students before they returned to their regular schedule.
At the same time, it served as a welcome reception for the five Orenthal students who would be representing their school in the upcoming competition.
Several important guests were also expected.
One high-ranking official.
One Grand Marshal General.
One representative carrying the authority of the head of an extremely old and closely guarded family.
Three Orenthal teachers.
They had not arrived yet.
The hall itself had been decorated with restraint.
Round tables were scattered across the spacious room instead of being pushed together, each covered with soft ivory linen and decorated with small arrangements of pale flowers, greenery, and slender glass candles.
The chairs were upholstered in warm beige fabric with dark wooden legs.
Along one wall stood a long refreshments counter where drinks, fruit, pastries, and small elegant dishes had been arranged.
Another section had been turned into a relaxed lounge area with cream sofas, low tables, and tall indoor plants.
At the far end, a modest stage displayed the Crownside and Unity symbols together, with a large screen behind it showing a simple welcome message.
The lighting was warm and slightly dimmer than the hotel's lobby.
Music played quietly through hidden speakers.
Not loud enough to interrupt conversation.
Just enough to make the room feel alive.
Students moved between tables, teachers spoke with parents, and hotel staff circulated with drinks.
Then another vehicle turned onto the driveway.
A high-end Jeep rolled beneath the entrance canopy and came to a smooth stop.
A valet approached immediately.
The passenger door opened.
Ava stepped out.
For a moment, several people near the entrance simply looked at her.
She wore a soft pink sleeveless halter dress gathered delicately at the center of the chest.
A narrow choker-like collar circled her neck, decorated with tiny pearl-like beads, while thin beaded straps draped gracefully over her shoulders.
The bodice was loose and airy, made from lightweight pink chiffon that moved gently whenever she walked.
The fitted waist gave way to a short layered skirt.
Several translucent ruffled tiers overlapped one another, creating a soft, fluttering silhouette that made the dress look almost like something from a ballet costume or a fairy tale without becoming childish.
The skirt ended above her knees, while the sheer layers added movement around the hem.
The back was even more striking.
The halter neckline continued around her neck, leaving most of her upper back open before the fabric resumed around her waist.
A large soft-pink bow sat beneath her loose romantic updo.
Wispy strands of red hair framed her face, while a tiny pink floral accessory disappeared partly into the back of her hairstyle.
Her pearl-beaded handbag hung delicately at one side.
The entire look was soft, feminine, and playful.
Ava stepped away from the Jeep.
Then the driver's door opened.
Matthew stepped out.
Unlike Ava, he wasn't dressed in anything overly formal.
He wore a relaxed charcoal-gray overshirt with the sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, left open over a fitted cream-colored knit T-shirt.
His trousers were deep espresso brown, straight through the leg with a slightly loose cut that made them comfortable without looking casual enough for an ordinary day.
A slim black leather belt sat at his waist.
His shoes were clean low-top leather sneakers in a muted beige-gray shade, polished enough for the event but comfortable enough that he didn't look like he had dressed for a board meeting.
A simple silver watch rested against his wrist, accompanied by a thin silver bracelet on the other.
His silver-black hair was slightly messy in its usual effortless way, with a few strands falling naturally across his forehead.
The outfit suited him perfectly.
Comfortable.
Clean.
Stylish.
And just formal enough to make it obvious that he had actually made an effort.
He closed the Jeep door and slipped his hands into his pockets.
Matthew glanced down at Ava, whose fingers were comfortably tangled with his.
"They really weren't lying when they said clothes could change a person," he murmured. "You look so gentle and pure.
"
A tiny giggle escaped Ava.
"Well, thank you." She lifted her chin proudly. "This is the first time you've ever complimented me."
She gave his outfit a slow once-over before adding, "And you're looking pretty hot yourself. See? I do have a sense of fashion."
She walked beside him, practically pleased with herself.
Matthew's mouth twitched.
"Just remember what you promised,"
Matthew said, cool and unhurried, but his thumb brushed the inside of her wrist as he spoke, a slow, deliberate stroke that made her pulse skip.
"I know, I know. I promised to let you teach me—if you actually attend instead of faking a sick day." She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "I didn't know you liked role play this much. Wanting to be my teacher… does it get you hot?"
Matthew's steps slowed. He turned just enough to catch her eyes, leaning in until the space between them felt charged.
"Yes," he whispered, the word barely more than warm breath against her ear. "It does."
Ava's breath hitched. Heat climbed up her neck, her ears burning as she waited for him to say something dirtier, something that would tip them over the edge.
Matthew's voice dropped lower, soft as a secret. "It makes me hot… excited. Seeing you get frustrated with your book, biting your lip, glaring at the page like it personally offended you."
His gaze slid to her mouth, then back to her eyes. "Yes, I like role play. I'll be your teacher. You, my very naughty student."
Ava rose onto her toes without thinking, drawn toward him.
The distance between them shrank to nothing but air and intent.
She could feel the warmth of his breath, see the faint darkening of his pupils as his eyes dropped to her lips.
"And if I… fail to answer a question?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, her mouth a hair's breadth from his.
"Then you'll be punished," Matthew said, a slow smile curving his lips. He didn't move closer, didn't close that last sliver of space—just let the almost‑kiss hang there, taut and trembling.
"Careful, teacher," she tossed back , trying to sound unaffected and failing. "Keep talking like that and I might start misbehaving on purpose."
Matthew's smile deepened, eyes following her as lip . "That's the plan," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "I need something to punish."
Her heart hammered. "How?"
He let the silence stretch, eyes dark and teasing. "You'll copy, 'I will stop being lustful in class' a hundred times."
Ava blinked, the spell breaking just enough for indignation to flicker through the heat. "What?"
"And if you refuse," he continued, tone still low and seductive but now edged with laughter, "I'll tie you up and throw you outside so you can entertain the whole neighborhood by singing your sorrows at the top of your lungs."
For a heartbeat, she just stared at him, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to push him. Then her expression froze, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.
She turned on her heel and marched past him.
Matthew burst out laughing.
"Dear student," he called after her, voice almost a purr, "don't walk so fast. In fact, since you look so ready and excited… why don't we start your lessons today? Math and physics. No sleeping till we finish one third of the scheme."
Ava broke into a run.
Virtue stood at the bar, watching Ava and Matthew from across the room.
Hatred burned in her eyes.
Pure, bitter hatred.
Her fingers tightened around the champagne bottle as the memory she had been desperately trying to bury came rushing back.
When she closed her eyes, the memory rose uninvited: Paul's voice, low and amused, ordering her to dress like Sophia.
The scratch of expensive fabric against her skin, too tight in all the wrong places. His breath hot on her neck.
His hand clamping around her throat when her moan didn't sound "right," didn't sound like the Sophia in his head.
Today update is early cause I would be busy I'm the afternoon reading and stuff I would make up time to stockpile as I write cause November second week or third week would be my test period and I don't want to fail