Robert's knees trembled again, and even though he had t Oliver once before—briefly, in a passing encounter—he had never truly understood who he was. But seeing Lisa, the legendary goddess of investnt herself, bowing her head without pride, without hesitation… it hit him hard.
It was in that exact mont that everything began to make sense. All the missing puzzle pieces slamd together inside Mr. Jackson's mind like thunderclaps. The disrespect they had poured on Oliver. The arrogance they had spewed. The dismissive glances and condescending words—all of it now felt like curses hurled into the sky, waiting to strike back like lightning.
Without another breath wasted, Mr.Jackson suddenly dropped his head completely to the floor. And then he started banging it—once, twice, three tis—against the cold marble floor. Each strike echoed through the mansion like drums of regret. He didn't care about his clothes. He didn't care about his image. All he cared about was survival.
"I deserve it," Mr. Justin mumbled desperately. "I deserve it… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier. I was blind. I was foolish. Please forgive ."
At that mont, Oliver slowly raised his hand, silencing the trembling n on their knees before him. His voice was calm, but the weight it carried could make a mountain bow.
"Well," Oliver began, eyes fixed on Mr. Justin, "you see… between you and I, there's no real problem. I'm not here because of you, nor am I here to argue about old mistakes. If you had any sense, you'd know I'm not the type to waste my ti holding grudges."
He then turned slightly, his gaze settling coldly on Robert. His jaw tightened.
"But him—" Oliver pointed directly at Robert, his eyes narrowing, "—he's made the list. And not just any list, but the kind where once you're on it, you don't get off easy."
Robert froze like a statue, his entire body trembling. But Oliver wasn't done.
"And unfortunately for all of you, Robert is just the side dish. My main course today... is your daughter."
He turned his head slowly toward Abigail's father. His tone deepened.
"Yes. Victoria."
A sharp silence filled the room. Mr. Justin's eyes widened. Robert's breath caught. Even the servants outside the hall could sense sothing was terribly wrong.
Oliver's voice dropped, dangerously low.
"She crossed the line. I don't know who taught her how to speak to people, but apparently, she missed the lesson on respecting others. She stepped where she shouldn't have. She poked the wrong person. And worse," he added, voice sharp like glass, "she almost touched sothing that didn't belong to her."
He stepped forward, hands in his pocket, calm but lethal.
"I've kept calm long enough. I've tried to let it slide. But tell —" he stared straight at Mr. Jackson , "—when soone slaps the hand that feeds them, do you still feed them the next day?"
Mr. Justin quickly shook his head, bowing lower. "N-No… no, sir…"
Oliver scoffed. "Exactly."
He took another step forward.
"I'm not here for revenge. I'm here for correction. Because there are people in this world who should not be angered. There are boundaries you do not cross, no matter who you think you are. And your daughter…" he paused, "…has failed to learn that."
He stared ahead, eyes dark.
"And since no one taught her, I ca here to do it myself."
The room was dead silent.
Everyone could feel it sothing terrible was coming. No one dared speak. Lisa stood quietly behind Oliver, her head still bowed, but the smirk on her lips said it all.
Abigail's father began sweating from his forehead.
At that mont, Mr. Jackson's heart began to race each beat louder than the last, as if echoing the fear rising inside him. Cold sweat started to form at the back of his neck. A sick feeling rolled in his stomach. Deep down, he always knew. He always knew that one day, Victoria's mouth… her arrogance… her reckless pride would land their family in a ss they wouldn't be able to clean up.
He had seen the signs how she treated people like trash beneath her heels, how she acted as if the world owed her everything, and how she carried herself like she was untouchable. He thought he could manage it. Thought he could control it. Thought he had ti.
But this wasn't just any trouble.
This was Oliver, And if Oliver was here, angry, with his voice calm and eyes cold, then things had already gone too far.
Mr.Jackson's breath caught in his throat. His knees trembled. "What has she done…" he thought, completely drowning in regret. "Why didn't I stop her? Why didn't I scold her that day she started insulting people and bullying the weak? Why did I always cover up her mistakes just to protect our na? Why did I let her believe there were no consequences?"
Now, there were consequences.
And Oliver was the consequence no one ever wanted.
Jackson quickly dropped to his knees again, not caring about the pain that shot up his bones. His face looked drained, aged, broken by the weight of realization.
"Please…" he stamred, his voice shaking. "Please, I'm sorry… I'm very, very sorry… Mr.Oliver, I didn't raise her well. I know I failed, I know she crossed the line. But please… don't take it out on her, she minds or my late wife. Take it out on if you must. I'll do anything. Anything at all… Just don't let this destroy her completely. Please…"
At that mont, before anyone could say another word, the heavy silence in the room was suddenly broken by the creak of the main door swinging open. All heads instinctively turned. The air shifted.
Victoria walked in with her usual sharp grace, her heels tapping confidently against the tiled floor. But she wasn't alone.
Right beside her, walking with an arrogant calmness, was Benedict.
Imdiately Victoria's steps slowed as her eyes scanned the room—her gaze cold, unbothered—until it landed on a sight that made her entire body stiffen.
Her jaw imdiately clenched.
There, right before her, her father Mr. Jackson was kneeling on the floor like a servant. And not just kneeling… trembling. In front of a man she didn't recognize.
A stranger.
Victoria's brows slowly pulled together. Her lips curled with disbelief and an expression of pure disgust washed over her face. The way her father looked... it was humiliating. Unthinkable.
Imdiately her eyes darted to Oliver, then to her father again. What kind of nonsense was this? her voice rang out, sharp and filled with contempt.
"What the gods na is this… what the hell is going on here?"
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