At that mont, Abigail’s voice trembled as she looked at Oliver, her face filled with disbelief and confusion. "What did I do?" she asked softly, her pride now completely shattered. "I didn’t do anything that should result in all this... I swear, I didn’t do anything."
She looked around the room her father still on the floor, her mother shaking silently beside him and a lump ford in her throat. "Even if I did sothing," she continued, her voice now cracking, "please, Sir, I didn’t an to. I didn’t know. I’ve co to realize my mistake. I’m very, very sorry. I promise, I won’t do it again. Please forgive ."
Oliver slowly turned his face toward her, his cold stare locking onto her trembling figure. "You’re still standing," he said sharply.
Instantly, as though her legs gave out, Abigail dropped to her knees. Her hands pressed together, and she lowered her head in sha. "I’m sorry," she whimpered. "It didn’t occur to ... please forgive ... please."
But Oliver wasn’t moved. His tone stayed ice-cold. "I don’t have ti to waste on you," he said plainly, his words slicing through the silence like a knife. "You don’t deserve my ti. You don’t even worth my ti."
Abigail’s shoulders trembled as tears began to stream down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t give her the chance.
"You were threatening soone," Oliver continued, his voice louder now, firr, full of weight. "And not just anyone but soone very close to . And you were planning to hurt them." He paused for a second, scanning Abigail’s face as she looked up slowly, eyes wide in disbelief.
He stepped forward just once just enough for her to feel the weight of his presence.
"You made that threat, not knowing who was behind them," Oliver said. "But now you know."
He looked past her for a brief mont, at her trembling mother, at her broken father, then back at Abigail.
"And because of what you planned to do to soone I care about, soone who ans a lot to ... don’t expect to walk away from this untouched," Oliver said calmly, his eyes narrowing. "Because after today... I don’t think you’ll even have the strength to speak again."
At that mont, Oliver’s cold voice echoed clearly through the silence: "Her na is Cora."
Imdiately, Abigail’s eyes shot open wide, stunned, breath caught halfway in her throat. That na. Cora.
She couldn’t believe her ears, her lips parted, but no words ca out. Her heart started beating faster as the puzzle pieces slamd together in her head. Cora... Cora... the sa girl she looked down on, mocked, pushed aside like she was nothing.
How? How could Cora be behind all this?
How could she possibly know soone like Oliver?
Suddenly, it all started to make sense the way Cora had been walking around with so much confidence lately, the way she didn’t even flinch when she had tried to embarrass her. That calmness wasn’t just boldness... it was backing. Power. Protection.
And then, like a slap across the face, realization struck her again Jas, that had to be the reason Jas had gone silent. That had to be why he backed out and ran, refusing to do their bidding any further. It wasn’t guilt. It was fear. Fear of Cora... or rather, fear of the man behind her, fear of Oliver.
At that mont, Abigail’s face grew pale. Her mouth trembled. Her knees weakened more on the tiled floor.
"I..." she stuttered, her voice shaking, barely above a whisper. "I’m very, very sorry."
She clutched her chest, her head bowing low to the floor. "Please forgive ," she said again, louder this ti. "Sir, I’m extrely sorry. I didn’t know."
But before she could finish, Oliver turned slightly, looking at her with pure disdain, and he cut her off sharply.
"I don’t forgive."
At that mont, upon hearing what Oliver just said, Abigail’s father could no longer hold back. His pride shattered, he dropped to his knees again and began to apologize with a trembling voice, this ti louder, more desperate, more frantic than before.
"I’m very, very sorry!" he said, his voice cracking. "We didn’t know who Cora was! We didn’t even know Abigail was out there... causing problems. If we knew, I swear to you, we would’ve called her into order, stopped her anything to avoid sothing like this. Sir, please, forgive us. Please. We’ll take caution from now on. We’ll make sure this never happens again."
His hands were clasped so tightly together they began to shake. His forehead grazed the marble tiles as he bowed down fully, almost like he was worshipping Oliver, or at least begging for rcy from soone far above his reach.
Abigail’s mother, still kneeling beside him, nodded quickly in agreent. "He’s right! We are very sorry, sir. We didn’t an any harm. She’s just a child... please, don’t take it to heart."
But Oliver didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He simply stared at them with that sa cold, emotionless gaze that now made everyone in the room feel like they were standing on thorns.
Then, he spoke his voice calm but sharp like a blade.
"That’s not even it."
The silence that followed was painful. It rang louder than their begging. Abigail’s eyes slowly lifted to et his, but the mont they locked eyes, she quickly lowered her head again in fear.
"I’m not here for apologies," Oliver continued, folding his arms slowly, deliberately. "I didn’t co here expecting to see all this drama... but now that I have, my plans have changed."
He took a slow step forward, and Abigail’s father instantly flinched.
"I was going to walk away after delivering my warning. But now..." Oliver’s tone turned darker. "Now, I realize just how deep the rot goes. And since you all decided to play with fire, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what that ans."
He glanced at Abigail, then at her parents, before turning his back to them.
"I’ll take action," he said flatly. "The way I see fit."
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