Imdiately after Oliver's words struck the air like a thunderclap, the weight of his authority sank deep into the hearts of the n before him.
Mr. Jackson, unable to even et Oliver's eyes, lowered his head completely to the floor. His body trembled not just from fear, but from the raw sha of witnessing his own daughter be broken before him and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. The reality of Oliver's power had never felt this real, this brutal.
Seeing his father collapse in total submission, Robert didn't hesitate. He followed imdiately, bowing his head as well. His pride, his ambitions, his entitlent—everything crumbled in that mont. He had never imagined a day would co when his entire lineage would kneel so helplessly. But it had co. And Oliver had made sure they all understood the price of crossing him.
At that very mont, Abigail's father, who had been trembling silently, dropped to his knees and lowered his head to the ground. "We are sorry," he muttered in a weak, broken voice. "It won't happen again. None of this… none of it will ever happen again. We will call our daughters to order. We swear it."
His voice shook as he spoke, and even though his body was trembling, he dared not lift his head. The sha was too much, but the fear of retribution was even greater.
There was a thick silence in the room again. But Oliver wasn't done.
He slowly turned and shifted his gaze toward Benedict, who had been quietly Kneeling and watching, perhaps thinking he was safe in his little corner.
Oliver took a step forward and looked directly into Benedict's eyes.
"I heard what you've been planning," he said, his tone calm, yet heavy with warning. "You think before your uncle… before your brother… that there were no others in that position? You think you're the first to be ambitious? You're not."
Benedict's face tightened slightly, but he didn't dare speak.
Oliver continued, "Your brother had a godfather. And that godfather had his own godfather. Do you understand what that ans?"
Benedict's brows twitched. He wasn't expecting this kind of layered warning.
Oliver's voice dropped. "You see, where your connections end, another man's connections begin. So before you try to play a ga you're not built for, ask yourself if you're ready to pay the price when it backfires."
Benedict clenched his jaw, trying not to look away.
Oliver took one step closer. "Be warned. Don't ever try your luck with again. Because next ti, I won't just talk."
Imdiately after Oliver's voice faded, the silence in the room turned terrifying.
Benedict still kneeling frozen—his legs numb, his chest tight. His throat felt dry, and his heart pounded like a wild drum in his ears. For a mont, it seed like the air had abandoned the room. His eyes were wide open, but he wasn't seeing anything. His hands dropped weakly by his side, and his body swayed slightly. If not for the wall behind him, he would have collapsed. The sha. The fear. The warning—it all slamd into him at once.
Without wasting another breath on any of them, Oliver turned his back and walked out of the room, his steps calm, composed—like a man who had simply co to deliver a ssage and was done.
Lisa followed him instantly, not even sparing a glance at the crumbling figures left behind.
Once outside, the fresh air wrapped around them, but Oliver didn't pause.
He turned to Lisa and said firmly, "Have you done what I told you to do."
Imdiately Lisa's eyes flicked to the ti, then back to Oliver. A small smile pulled at her lips, and she replied with quiet confidence, "Oh, you can be sure of this. The two people you requested for... they're either already in the house or about to walk in any second."
Oliver nodded slowly, his gaze sharp.
However Oliver didn't waste ti. He turned toward her. "Good," he said. "And what about the findings? Did you get all the information I asked for?"
Lisa gave a slight bow of her head and responded with a smirk, "Yes, sir. And I have to say—it's very, very interesting. You're definitely going to love what I actually found out."
At that mont, without wasting another second, Oliver turned to Lisa with a sharp nod.
"Let's go," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Lisa imdiately understood. She gestured quickly, and without delay, they both moved toward the waiting car.
The mont they entered the vehicle, the air inside shifted—serious, tense. No one spoke. The driver already knew the destination. The tires screeched softly as the car took off down the darkened road. Streetlights flickered past them like falling stars, but Oliver's gaze remained steady, fixed on nothing and everything all at once. He was already ten steps ahead in his mind.
Not long after, they arrived at a discreet, guarded compound hidden behind a gated entrance. It was quiet on the outside—but inside, a storm was already brewing.
Without wasting anymore ti, as Oliver stepped out of the car and approached the entrance, the muffled sound of shouting spilled through the heavy doors. A man's voice echoed, angry and wild.
"Let go of ! Untie now!" the voice barked. "Do you fools even know who I am?! You think you can get away with this? I swear, you've ssed with the wrong man! I'll make sure every one of you pays for this—severely!"
Hearing the voice Oliver didn't flinch. He paused briefly at the door and glanced at Lisa, who was already reaching for the handle. Then he walked in.
The instant he stepped into the room, the shouting grew louder—more desperate.
"I said let go of ! Do you know who I—"
"Festus Keep your mouth shut!"
Imdiately The man stopped. His voice cut off sharply.
There was a mont of silence.
Then, slowly, the man's voice returned—this ti confused, a little unsteady. "Wait... wait a second. I know this voice," he stamred. "Isn't this... Oliver?"
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