Chapter 170 Identity Exposed! The Real Ivan Emerges
The rising murmur in the room was cut through when Quentin stepped forward. He fixed his eyes on Amelia, drawing in a deep breath.
"You're telling me… you're the one who won the Abyss Underground Fights back then? Bald Eagle?"
His expression twisted into something almost unrecognizable—shock, disbelief, and a tangle of emotions he couldn't hide.
That year's Abyss Fights had been his obsession. He had watched from the very first bout to the final match. By the end, he had admired the masked fighter known as Bald Eagle with a kind of reverence that bordered on worship. Her strength, her cold precision… it had felt almost inhuman.
After the tournament, Quentin had tried to track her down. He asked questions, chased rumors, but the champion remained a ghost. Not a single solid lead. Eventually, he gave up.
Never in his wildest thoughts had he imagined that the legend he had wanted to meet was already standing in front of him… and that she was his fiancée.
It explained so much. It explained why, that day outside the restroom, Amelia had caught his punch mid-swing with one hand… and nearly crushed the bones in his hand without effort.
He should have seen it then. Who else but Bald Eagle could carry that kind of strength and that suffocating aura?
He had been blind.
"You don't believe me?" Amelia's voice was cool, her gaze steady, reading the conflicted look on his face as if expecting him to pick a fight.
Quentin did believe her. He had felt that force himself, the kind that pressed down like the shadow of death. But most of the people in the room still wavered, caught between doubt and awe.
Amelia paused, then reached up and slid the strap of her gown off her shoulder, revealing a scar about ten centimeters long across her right shoulder.
"If anyone watched the final match of that year's tournament, you'll remember—my opponent's helmet cracked, and the jagged edge cut into my shoulder."
"This is the scar from that fight."
Her words landed like a stone in water, sending ripples through the crowd. Every eye turned to her shoulder. Against her pale skin, the narrow scar stood out starkly.
What no one knew was that Amelia had fought under a different identity and body back then. She had replicated the scar onto her current body through a method only she understood. Now, it was the most direct proof she could offer.
The same body proportions. The same devastating strength and fighting skill. And now, the scar in the exact same place. There was no room left for denial.
Gasps broke out around her.
"This girl from the Martinez family—the illegitimate daughter raised in the countryside—is actually the fighter who shook the world? Bald Eagle? Who could have guessed?"
"Hold on… two years ago she would have been what, fifteen? Sixteen? A teenager taking down seasoned professionals like that… what's her secret?"
"And you're still laughing at her for being broke? Do you even know that after that season of Abyss Fights, Bald Eagle's appearance fee jumped to five million dollars per match? She was the highest-paid fighter in the world."
"So what? Even if she made five million in a night, she came to Vaughn's birthday with nothing but a cup. Isn't that proof she's stingy?"
Anna had never cared about foreign underground tournaments, so she couldn't understand why everyone was so stunned. To her, Amelia had simply gone from being a despised illegitimate daughter to some inexplicably admired public figure.
What irritated her more was seeing her own younger brother staring at Amelia as if hypnotized.
Anna gave a sharp laugh, cutting through the chatter and turning the spotlight back onto herself.
"Miss Martinez, I don't care who you are."
"I care about one thing—if you're claiming my gift is fake and the genuine piece is in your possession, then show it to us."
"Anyone can make big claims. But without proof, all you've done is smear me."
Amelia's gaze was steady, almost bored. "After winning the Abyss Fights championship, I approached the Novaria jeweler who had provided the antique prize for the tournament. I asked if he had any other treasures from Celestria."
"He respected the way I won, so he told me he had two other works by Ivan—the marble rose vase and the silver-inlaid marble goblet. I didn't want them to remain abroad, so I bought them both."
The room erupted.
"You mean to say… those two missing Ivan pieces were in that jeweler's hands all along?"
"Yes," Amelia nodded. "And since then, they've both been in mine."
She continued, her tone calm but carrying weight. "Mr. Williams is known for his antique collection. When I chose a gift, I hesitated between the marble rose vase and the silver-inlaid marble goblet."
"The vase was grander, but there was a fine crack in the body—barely visible, but still a flaw. So I chose the goblet instead."
"And since you want to see the genuine work, this goblet carved by Ivan himself will serve as proof."
She walked to the cart piled high with gift boxes, selecting the plainest wooden box among them.
Opening it, she lifted out the silver-inlaid marble goblet and placed it beside Anna's gift on the display table.
The difference was immediate. The moment the goblet was set down, Anna's vase seemed to shrink into dull mediocrity, its luster gone.
The goblet's marble was of the highest grade, its translucence catching the light like water frozen in motion. The rim was shaped into the petals of a blooming flower, each curve unfolding naturally. Along the side, delicate relief carvings of leaves and branches intertwined with budding blossoms, the detail so lifelike it seemed they might sway in a breeze.
This was the glow of top-tier stone. This was the hand of a master craftsman.
The crowd stared, transfixed.
Now they understood why Rocco had recognized Anna's piece as fake in an instant. A counterfeit could mimic shape, but it could never capture the soul. The gap between the genuine and the imitation was astronomical.
Especially with the two pieces side by side—the contrast was brutal, impossible to ignore.
Anna had never imagined she would be humiliated so completely. She had demanded Amelia produce the genuine article, and Amelia had done exactly that… in front of everyone.
She stood frozen, her face drained of color, as if slapped across the face repeatedly—slaps she had invited herself.
The onlookers, still reeling from the sight of the goblet, couldn't hold back.
"…Wait, Miss Martinez, this is the gift you gave Vaughn?"
"You're calling something worth a fortune… just a cup?"