Chapter 160 Divorce, Represents a New Beginning
The smile on Sophie's face gradually faded. She asked Lucas in confusion, "Didn't we always share food like this before? Lucas, are you abandoning us friends because of Bella?"
Here we go again.
I glanced at Sophie. This time I wasn't as angry as before. I calmly continued eating my skewers, letting Lucas handle it.
Lucas frowned slightly, clearly unhappy. He said directly and firmly, "I've never held back on sharing food with you guys before. Richard and the others haven't been coming over, but you keep eating. Bella's barely had any."
I couldn't help but smile a little.
Sophie threw her fork on the table. "All you see now is Isabella! You don't care about us friends at all! Let's just end this friendship!"
She abruptly stood up and left, running a few steps before slowing down and looking back at us.
I licked the sauce off my fingertips and asked, "Going after her?"
"No." Lucas didn't even look in the direction Sophie left. He showed no intention of stopping her. He picked up the best-cooked, most tender pieces of meat from the plate and put them on mine, saying naturally, "Ignore her. Eat."
Sophie didn't get the attention she expected. She took a deep breath and sat down next to Richard with a sullen face.
I smiled. Lucas stared at my expression for two seconds, chuckled softly, leaned in close, and said with certainty, "I knew it. Last time you were upset because of Sophie."
I didn't deny it. I bit into the grilled meat, and the aroma and juices spread in my mouth. The warm sunshine made my mood brighter.
In the afternoon, as the sun lost its heat and spread across the endless hunting grounds, the shooting competition began under everyone's watchful eyes.
The entire prairie was temporarily divided into a huge competition area. In the distance, rows of targets were lined up across the wilderness—fixed ring targets, moving targets, aerial clay pigeons, and camouflaged targets hidden at the edges of grass and forest.
Wind blew from the far end of the plain, stirring up dust and grass. The air was filled with gunpowder smoke and tension.
On the tiered stands, family banners fluttered in the wind. Bodyguards, attendants, and spectators packed the area—noisy yet orderly.
The five major families had the most banners, showing they controlled the largest territories.
I sat under the Sorelli family's banner, leaning against the flagpole. Less than 2 feet away was the "Starstream City Northern District" flag.
A sharp, hostile gaze fixed on me. I looked up and saw it was Holden.
Lucas had entered the shooting competition—invited families had to participate in at least one event, it was required. In the past, Lucas's honors belonged to the Valeri family, but today, those honors had nothing to do with the Valeri family.
That's why Holden was so angry.
At such an important occasion, Lucas had embarrassed him.
The host announced the start of the competition. The stands erupted in enthusiastic cheers, then gradually quieted down.
On the field, Lucas wore a black athletic outfit, standing tall with sharp, clean shoulder and back lines. His movements adjusting the rifle with one hand were crisp and steady, his fierce gaze focused intently on the range.
Next to Lucas was Marcus.
Marcus's movements were more casual but equally composed—raising the gun, aiming, locking on target, all in one smooth motion.
Gunshots rang out continuously, making the air tremble slightly. Targets in the distance fell one after another, and the electronic scoreboard lit up with corresponding scores.
The first round was fixed targets, not very difficult. Both Lucas and Marcus scored 100 rings—perfect scores.
Next were moving targets.
Human-shaped targets moved quickly on tracks, fast then slow, appearing and disappearing, significantly increasing the difficulty.
Marcus knelt on one knee, the rifle butt firmly against his shoulder, his breathing rhythm perfectly synced with the target movements.
With each gunshot, a target fell.
Lucas was just as strong—predicting, raising the gun, shooting, flowing like water. Every shot seemed precisely calculated.
The two remained tied for first place.
The exclamations and discussions in the audience grew louder.
"Lucas is as amazing as always!"
"Marcus isn't weak either! I remember him being a playboy. When did his shooting get this good?"
"If your family got massacred and you were hunted for years, you'd be this good too," someone said vaguely.
"Fuck! Who are you cursing!"
The final round was the most mentally and reaction-challenging aerial mixed clay pigeons.
Dozens of discs were launched simultaneously from different directions and heights—some shooting straight up, some sweeping diagonally, some plummeting rapidly. The sky filled with flying discs like a flock of out-of-control colorful birds.
In the stands, everyone looked up, instinctively holding their breath.
My ears caught two gunshots almost overlapping. I knew they were from Marcus and Lucas.
Lucas's shooting was fast, accurate, and fierce. Wherever his gaze fell, discs exploded in mid-air.
Marcus's hands were steady as rock, firing continuously without missing.
Discs kept shattering and falling, but the scoreboard showed others' hit rates were far below theirs.
I got distracted looking at people from other families.
The Gambino family's competitor was that boy who called me "she-devil." His score was only half of Lucas and Marcus's.
The Valeri family's competitor was actually Leonardo!
Seeing him reminded me of Angelina.
After Lucas had people disrupt Angelina's performances a few times, she got angry. I hadn't seen her lately—I wondered if she'd given up on the business marriage with Lucas.
The last disc exploded in the air, and the gunfire stopped abruptly. I gathered my scattered thoughts and looked at the scoreboard.
The judges repeatedly verified the results. Finally, the host announced excitedly, "Lucas, Marcus, tied for first place!"
The venue went silent for two seconds, then erupted in applause and screams.
Holden's face looked terrible. Donald also looked unhappy.
Marcus grabbed the host's collar. "Why is my name after Lucas's!"
Lucas said good-naturedly, "Announce it again and put Marty's name before mine."
Marcus clenched his fist. "I told you, don't call me Marty!"
I laughed out loud, my palms slightly warm, feeling proud of them!
A few steps away, Sophie was also very excited, cupping her hands around her mouth, shouting Lucas's name recklessly, over and over until her voice was hoarse, her adoration obvious in her eyes.
A girl next to Sophie nudged her arm, teasing with a smile, "So excited? I think you two are the real couple!"
Sophie waved her hand, smiling coyly, glancing at me as if casually, with pride and challenge in her eyes. "Don't talk nonsense. Lucas's ex-wife is right here."
"What nonsense? Everyone knows you two are childhood friends." The girl glanced at me. "So what if she's his ex-wife? Divorce means they didn't get along, right? Now's your chance!"
The two went back and forth. Sophie's lips curved in a smile, waiting to see me embarrassed.
I looked at her calmly, not backing down. "Sometimes divorce doesn't mean giving up—it means starting over."
In the distance, Lucas stepped down from the podium, happened to look this way, his gaze landing on me. He smiled and raised his trophy.
I ignored Sophie and smiled back at Lucas.