Chapter 36: "Processing"
Soon, the pair reached the upper balcony overlooking the reception hall below.
The space opened wide before them, flanked by sweeping double grand staircases that curved down toward the marble floors beneath.
From above, the reception hall looked like a stage already set for performance.
The luncheon guests had gathered below in glittering clusters.
Socialites.
Photographers.
Reporters.
Camera crews.
Every polished face turned toward the charity showcase Chiara had prepared, but none seemed interested in the event itself — they were only quietly waiting for the next scandal to enter the room.
Corinna stopped at the top of the staircase. A vicious smile flickered across her face before she turned toward Aren.
"Come on, my lady," Corinna urged, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Even your walking is so incredibly pathetic. Quick! This way."
She turned and began descending first, leading the way down the grand staircase. Aren followed a moment later, her face calm as she stepped into the open view of the crowd below.
’She’s being very strange.’
’She definitely dislikes me.’
’Why did she come looking for me?’
The thoughts lingered only briefly before the shape of Corinna’s behavior began to register.
Corinna was not walking naturally. She was slowing her pace on purpose, maintaining only a single step between them as they descended.
Aren noticed it, though she made no comment.
Corinna, meanwhile, was an absolute wreck.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat so loud she thought it might burst through her chest, and cold sweat had already gathered at her hairline beneath the perfect styling.
’Okay.’
’Okay.’
’Don’t break your nose.’
’Don’t break your teeth.’
’Chiara promised the bag.’
She counted every descending step internally as though marching toward execution.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Her breath came shallower.
Sweat gathered against her palms.
The marble stairs seemed to stretch forever beneath her feet.
Finally...
Corinna stopped dead in her tracks.
She spun around with a wild, frantic expression on her face, both arms flinging outward.
Her scream erupted into the air, rebounding through the hall in a raw, desperate wave.
"NO— NO! PLEASE, I BEG YOU! LADY ARIANA, DON’T PUSH ME!"
The cry was so loud, so horrifyingly real that the entire reception hall below froze in a single breath.
Hundreds of heads snapped upward toward the grand staircase in unified horror.
At that exact moment—
Corinna threw herself backward.
Her body slammed into the step. Hard enough that a raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"
Corinna rolled.
Then rolled again.
And rolled farther.
The staircase was absurdly long, and her body bounced violently from one polished marble step to the next, as though she had become nothing more than a broken ragdoll hurled by fate itself.
Her expensive dress twisted and tore in the descent, fabric catching and dragging as she tumbled downward with terrifying speed.
From the hall below, horrified gasps erupted at once.
"Oh my God!"
"Lady Corinna—"
"Someone catch her!"
"Stop her rolling!"
Camera flashes exploded in blinding bursts, dying to capture the horrific moment that might make the front page the next day.
Reporters shouted over each other and started scribbling furiously in their notebooks even as the disaster unfolded before them.
Meanwhile, at the very top of the staircase, Aren stood perfectly still.
Her eyes remained fixed on Corinna’s tumbling body below.
Calm.
Unblinking.
Entirely emotionless.
To everyone watching from below, the image was damning. Aren looked now exactly like a woman coldly admiring the crime she had just committed.
By the time Corinna finally slammed against the bottom step, the reception hall had dissolved into chaos.
"Someone help her!"
"Call an ambulance!"
Chiara appeared almost instantly. She rushed toward her sister with perfectly crafted horror already painted across her face.
"Corinna!" she screamed. "Help! Somebody help!"
Guests crowded around the Leone sisters at once. Several women crouched beside Corinna while hotel staff scrambled into motion.
Chiara waited.
One second.
Two.
Five.
Then, suddenly, she looked upward.
Her tear-streaked face twisted beautifully into a mask of righteous fury as her trembling finger shot straight toward Aren standing above.
"Ariana Lombardi!" Chiara shrieked. "How could you do something so cruel?!"
The hall fell silent around the accusation.
Dozens of faces turned upward again, confusion and alarm mixing with growing suspicion.
Chiara caught the hesitation immediately. Her voice rang out again, more wounded and furious this time.
"My sister may have been rude to you this afternoon, but that does not justify pushing her down a staircase!"
The accusation hung in the air for a fraction of a second before the trap snapped shut.
Very quickly, fueled by Chiara’s tears and the violence of the display, everyone present bought the lie whole.
The tide turned instantly.
All eyes swung toward the top of the staircase, burning with furious hatred.
Slanders and curses flew up at Aren like a volley of daggers.
"Monster!"
"She could’ve killed her!"
"How disgusting—"
"She’s completely psychotic!"
"Someone detain her!"
"Call the police, put her in jail!"
"Just because she thinks she’s a Lombardi, she thinks she can act so arrogant and get away with murder?!"
The grand hall descended into a total chaos of insults. The venomous shouts kept rising, washing over Aren in waves, but she merely looked down at them, entirely unmoved by the storm.
Chiara lowered her head slightly, hiding the victorious smile threatening to curl across her mouth.
Beside her, Corinna writhed dramatically against the marble floor, though unlike the performance upstairs, the pain contorting her face now was painfully real.
A few steps away, Lucilla Bellini had already shifted fully into professional mode.
"Get closer shots," she ordered toward the camera crews. "No, not that angle. I want Ariana in the frame too."
Near one of the marble pillars, Natalia Porto watched the disaster unfold with detached exhaustion.
Her eyes drifted between Chiara’s theatrical outrage and Corinna’s writhing performance.
’Children.’
She looked seconds away from yawning.
Meanwhile, at the back of the crowd, every member of Caio Sartori’s entourage had gone very still.
No one spoke above a murmur.
No one even seemed willing to breathe too loudly.
Their attention remained fixed entirely on their Don, who stood motionless before them with his back turned.
Leo, as ever, was the only one with enough courage to approach first.
"Boss," he said carefully, keeping his voice low, "should I clear the crowd and escort Lady Ariana through the back exit?"
Caio didn’t answer immediately. His jaw had tightened so hard it looked as though it might crack.
He had seen enough staged accidents in Borgata to recognize one at a glance.
Chiara Leone’s performance was transparent.
Corinna’s acting was pathetic.
The realization alone made violence simmer hot beneath his skin.
Still...
Aren had not moved.
She remained at the top of the staircase, perfectly still while the entire room condemned her beneath a storm of accusations.
Caio narrowed his eyes.
"Not yet," he told Leo at last.
Leo frowned.
"...Boss?"
Caio’s gaze never left Aren.
"She looks like..." He paused, unsure with his own words. "She’s... processing."
Leo’s brow furrowed as he glanced back up at Aren.
"...Processing?"
Just as the word left his mouth, Aren finally moved.
Murmurs spread through the reception hall instantly as she descended the staircase.
Her one hand rested lightly against the railing while her heels clicked softly against polished marble.
Slow.
Calm.
Almost serene.
Click. Click. Click.
The farther she descended, the more people unconsciously moved out of her path.
Something about her composure unsettled them. Even the hysterical shouting gradually subdued the lower she approached.
At the bottom of the staircase, Chiara noticed the shift in the crowd immediately. She scrambled to her feet, determined to set a new fire to the outrage.
"Lady Ariana!" she demanded sharply. "I expect an explanation for your behavior! I welcomed you into my event despite everything people say about you, and now you push my sister down a staircase?"
She gestured dramatically toward Corinna writhing against the floor.
"This is unacceptable!"
Aren said nothing at first.
She walked calmly toward the Leone sisters and gather her skirt, kneeling gracefully before the injured girl.
She looked directly into Corinna’s panicked eyes and spoke softly.
"I’m sorry."
Corinna snapped, fresh tears of anger spilling over her flushed cheeks.
"Sorry?! You think you can just push someone down a grand staircase, say sorry, and it makes everything okay? You think the Lombardi name protects you from—"
Aren remained perfectly calm.
"I wasn’t apologizing for pushing you."
She tilted her head slightly, observing the angles of Corinna’s legs and arms.
"I was apologizing for taking time to think."
Corinna’s expression instantly twisted.
Unease crawled visibly up her skin.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
"If I had truly intended to push you," Aren answered in the same even tone, "both your legs would likely be broken now. Along with your left arm."
