Lena nodded.
"That's reasonable."
Master Ward agreed, provided that the footage remained private unless everyone consented to its release.
Derek held out his hand.
"Saturday, then."
Marcus shook it.
The challenge was officially scheduled.
Yet as the others dispersed, Lena noticed something troubling.
Marcus looked relieved, but not because the dispute had been resolved.
He looked relieved because he believed the event would restore his reputation.
Derek appeared excited by the prospect of testing his speed against a skilled opponent. Julian seemed caught between curiosity and the unresolved history surrounding his father.
Each man had accepted the same challenge for a different reason.
That difference could determine everything.
Later that evening, Lena received a call from an unfamiliar number.
She answered without speaking.
A man's voice came through the line.
"Miss Mercer. Victor Sloane."
"What do you want?"
"To congratulate you."
"For what?"
"For bringing Ironclad's most interesting personalities together."
"I didn't bring anyone together. They challenged me."
"Details are rarely important to an audience."
"They should be."
Sloane chuckled.
"You're still idealistic."
"And you're still avoiding the question."
A brief silence followed.
Then he said, "Saturday's session could be useful to everyone. If the footage is compelling, my organization may be willing to offer Ironclad a more favorable agreement."
"We're not producing promotional material for you."
"Perhaps not intentionally."
Lena's grip tightened around the phone.
"Stay away from the academy."
"That isn't your decision to make."
"No. But I can make it very difficult for you to use me."
Sloane's voice lost its warmth.
"You should be careful about reopening old matters, Miss Mercer. People remember things differently when their reputations are at stake."
"Then perhaps they should stop lying."
She ended the call.
For several seconds, she stood motionless in her kitchen.
Then she opened a drawer and removed a small envelope containing old competition records.
Inside was a handwritten note from Catherine Ward, sent shortly before her death.
Lena had kept it for years without ever showing it to anyone at Ironclad.
She unfolded the paper.
The message contained only two sentences.
If Sloane ever comes looking for you again, do not trust the version of events he offers.
Find out what Adrian kept.
Lena read the words repeatedly.
What had Adrian kept?
And why had Catherine believed that it mattered?
Saturday was no longer just a training session.
It was the beginning of a search for the truth.
Julian arrived at his father's house on Wednesday evening.
The building stood at the end of a quiet residential street, surrounded by bare trees and neglected flowerbeds. Adrian Cross had lived there since leaving competitive fighting, rarely attending tournaments and refusing almost every interview request.
He opened the door before Julian knocked a second time.
"You look angry," Adrian said.
"I'm confused."
"That's usually the same thing."
Julian stepped inside.
The living room contained shelves of books, old photographs, and several trophies arranged behind glass. A framed photograph showed Adrian in his prime, standing on a podium with a gold medal around his neck.
Julian had seen that photograph hundreds of times.
Now he wondered what it concealed.
"Do you know Lena Mercer?"
Adrian stopped walking.
The reaction lasted only a second, but Julian noticed it.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"She joined Ironclad."
Adrian placed his keys on the table.
"Then you should stay away from her."
"Why?"
"Because she brings trouble."
"That's what she told us about you."
Adrian turned sharply.
"What?"
Julian explained the tournament incident, Catherine's letters, and Sloane's proposal. He described the silver emblem and the photograph Master Ward had shown them.
As he spoke, his father's expression became increasingly rigid.
When Julian finished, Adrian sat down.
"I never wanted you involved in this."
"Then you should have told me the truth."
"Some things are better left alone."
"That's what people say when they don't want to answer questions."
Adrian looked at him for a long time.
Then he rose and walked toward the shelves.
"Your mother used to say you inherited my stubbornness."
"She also said you were honest."
The words stopped him.
Adrian reached for a photograph but did not remove it.
"I was a different person back then."
"Did you deliberately injure Lena?"
"No."
"Did you accuse her of cheating?"
"Yes."
"Was she cheating?"
Adrian closed his eyes.
"No."
Julian felt something shift inside him.
For years, he had imagined his father as a victim of an unjust system. He had believed that Adrian's withdrawal from competition was the result of corruption and betrayal.
Now the story was becoming more complicated.
"Why did you accuse her?"
"Because I couldn't accept that she had beaten me."
Adrian's voice was quiet.
"I had trained my entire life. I believed I deserved to win. When the match ended, I couldn't separate losing from being worthless."
Julian sat down.
"What happened after the tournament?"
Adrian returned to the chair opposite him.