At that mont, upon hearing what his father just said, Clinton's whole body trembled with rage.
He didn't need to see anything. The sound of the voice alone was enough. His fists clenched tightly around the edge of the chair he was tied to, and through gritted teeth, he spat out with venom, "So it is this bastard… It is this bastard Oliver that actually did this?!"
He couldn't see a thing, but the direction of the voice was too familiar. The way he carried himself, the arrogance in his tone, the calm threat behind his words it could only be Oliver.
Clinton's voice rose, loud and furious. "It is this bastard Oliver that actually kidnapped us?! How dare you?!" He pulled at the ropes again, not caring if the friction bruised his skin. "Do you know who I am?! and what you have just done"
His chest rose and fell sharply. His pride had been bruised deeply, and his anger was spilling like boiling oil. "Take this damn cloth off my face! I said take it off now! And untie from this chair imdiately!"
However the room was silent for a second, the weight of his fury bouncing off the walls. Clinton didn't care. He didn't care if he was surrounded. He didn't care if Oliver had ten n or a hundred. He only knew that right now, his blood was boiling and he needed to be released.
He shouted again, louder this ti, "Did you hear ?! From the sound of where this is going… from everything I've heard since I got here, I swear on my na and everything I stand for Oliver, I will never forgive you for this!"
His voice cracked slightly at the end, not from fear but from the sheer insult. "You think I'll let this go? I'll make sure you pay for this disrespect. You'll regret this, Oliver. You'll deeply regret this! This insult, this humiliation—you've just started a war!"
He kept yelling, his body fighting the restraints, his veins popping from his neck, "You just ssed with the wrong person. Mark my words. You and everyone with you will pay for this. Even if it takes everything I have I will destroy you!"
At that mont, hearing what Clinton just said, Oliver didn't even blink. He didn't show the slightest reaction of anger or surprise. Calm as ever, with a cold expression on his face, he simply tilted his head slightly and gave a small nod to one of his bodyguards.
"Remove the cloth bags," Oliver ordered in a low but commanding voice.
The two guards moved without hesitation. Within seconds, the dark cloth bags covering Clinton and Festus's heads were pulled off. The sudden light made both of them blink rapidly, their eyes adjusting to the light. But the mont they were able to see clearly, their expressions froze.
Right in front of them calmly seated in a large armchair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other was Oliver, and a beautiful Lady standing beside him.
His posture was relaxed, but his gaze? Piercing. Cold. Unforgiving.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Just the thick, tense air between them.
Then—
"How dare you?!" Festus suddenly exploded. His voice thundered through the room.
"Oliver, how dare you do sothing like this?! Are you insane?! You kidnapped us and tied us up like we're criminals?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Festus struggled against the ropes that still held his arms, his face turning red with anger. "Is this a joke to you?! Are you doing this because my brother likes you?! Or are you trying to prove sothing after what happened earlier in the house?!"
His voice cracked with frustration. "Let tell you sothing, Oliver! If this is so kind of stunt to make us look weak, you're going to regret it! I don't care who you think you are!"
Festus turned his head to the guards. "Untie ! I said untie right now!"
He yanked at the ropes, completely unaware that his rage was only amusing to Oliver. "I'm not going to say it again. Untie ! Or this is going to turn into a war!"
At that mont, upon hearing what his father just said, Clinton's jaw clenched tightly, his eyes burning with rage. "I don't care what you say to this bastard, Father," he snapped, his voice trembling from a mix of fury and humiliation. "Even if you choose to forgive him, I never will. Never! That bastard Oliver is going to pay for this. He's going to pay dearly!" His voice rose, echoing through the room like a thunderclap. "I swear, I will make sure he regrets ever laying a finger on . I will destroy him for this insult!"
His father, imdiately shot him a sharp look, but before he could utter a word, Oliver's quiet chuckle broke the tension in the room. It wasn't a loud laugh it was calm, deliberate, and filled with mockery. The sound alone made the air grow heavier.
Then Oliver leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with that sa collected poise he always had. His fingers tapped lazily against the armrest as he stared at Clinton with a faint smirk.
"Forgiveness?" Oliver repeated slowly, almost as if the word amused him. "Tell , do I look like soone who's going to beg for forgiveness?" He tilted his head slightly, his tone sharp but playful. "Do I look like soone who's scared of you… or anyone in this room?"
The confidence in his voice sliced through the room like a blade. Clinton's expression shifted his anger mixed with confusion, uncertainty creeping in at the edges. Oliver's smile widened slightly as he continued, his tone now colder.
"Let make sothing clear," Oliver said, his voice low and asured. "You're not here because I wanted to play gas. You're here because there are things I know things about you and your father that even you don't realize have already started to fall apart." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze piercing straight into Clinton's. "And trust , if you think what's happening right now is bad, you've seen nothing yet."
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