Hearing what Oliver just said, both Festus and Clinton exchanged uneasy glances. The calmness in Oliver's tone only made everything worse. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't threatening in anger. He was certain. That certainty alone was terrifying.
"Well," Oliver continued after a pause, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve, "since you seem so confident, you can stay right where you are. You and your father." His voice hardened. "But if either of you refuse to cooperate if either of you think this is still a joke then I promise, your situation is going to get a lot worse."
Then he stood up slowly, his shadow stretching across the floor as both n stared up at him.
"I didn't bring you here for a chat," Oliver said finally. "I brought you here because I want sothing and you're going to give it to . One way or another."
He turned slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Because believe , I already know everything about you. Every secret. That's why you're here."
At that mont, hearing what Oliver just said, both Festus and Clinton turned slowly to face each other. Their eyes widened in disbelief, as if they had just heard sothing completely unthinkable. The room fell into a sharp silence, the kind that made every breath feel louder than it should. Neither of them expected Oliver to still be this composed, this bold… this fearless.
Clinton's jaw dropped slightly, and for a second, it looked like he was waiting for Oliver to laugh and say it was a joke but the look on Oliver's face was far from playful. There was no hint of regret, no sign of fear. Just cold, sharp confidence.
"He… he's still talking like this?" Festus muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the frustration bubbling inside him.
Clinton's voice then rose sharply. "You really don't know what you're doing, do you?" he spat, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and confusion. "Do you seriously think… just because my uncle likes you… you can get away with this? Or because you're dating Cora… you think that gives you the right to do whatever you want?"
He scoffed hard, his fists tightening on the chair arms. "You're finished, Oliver. You've gone too far. You're going to regret this—"
But before Clinton could even finish his words, Oliver raised his hand slightly, stopping him mid-sentence.
"Enough," Oliver said, his voice calm but laced with venom. He leaned forward a little, locking eyes with Clinton. "Do you really think I don't know what's going on behind the scenes?" His voice sharpened. "You think I haven't done my own digging? You think I don't know who sponsored Jas to ruin Cora's life?"
The mont those words left his lips, the entire room shifted.
Festus's eyes widened. Clinton froze.
"You…" Clinton started, but he couldn't find the next words.
Oliver didn't flinch. "Yeah, I know. I know everything. I know about the etings. The phone calls. The money transfers. The fake reports. The sabotage. I've been piecing it all together."
Then he paused.
"You see," he continued, pacing calmly in front of them, "you thought I was stupid. You thought I was just another man head-over-heels for Cora, distracted by love. You made a very dangerous assumption."
His eyes narrowed on Clinton. "But here's what you never realized—I don't play gas."
Clinton's lips trembled slightly. "You're bluffing."
Oliver chuckled quietly. "If I was bluffing, you wouldn't be sitting there tied up, looking like a little boy who just got caught stealing from the family safe." He leaned down, his face inches from Clinton's. "You're not in control anymore, Clinton. I am."
He straightened, walking toward the door.
"And since you want to act tough," Oliver added, glancing over his shoulder, "then you'll enjoy what cos next. Because what you're feeling now? The confusion, the fear, the humiliation? It's just the beginning."
He paused at the doorway.
"I didn't co here for your forgiveness. I ca for answers. And trust , by the ti I leave, you'll be begging to give them."
At that mont, upon hearing what Oliver just said, Festus couldn't help but fake a small, bitter smile. His lips trembled, but he forced it into sothing that looked like confidence. Then he said to Oliver, "Do you think I'm so little boy you can scare with empty threats? Do you think I don't know what you're trying to do? You're trying to blackmail yes, that's what this whole setup is about! You want to twist my words, push until I say sothing I didn't do. You want to force to confess to a cri I know nothing about. Well, that trick won't work on , not today. I'm far beyond your level, boy. You can't play mind gas with ."
His words were sharp, but his voice carried a faint tremor.
Clinton beside him looked away uneasily, sensing that his father's usual commanding tone was cracking.
Then, before Festus could even finish his sentence, a voice suddenly rang through the room weak, trembling, and yet cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Stop lying," the voice said, hoarse but clear. "You are the one who told what to do. You approached first. You bribed . You gave the money, and I have proof. Pictures. Everything. And I've already handed them over to him."
The voice echoed against the walls. Everyone froze.
For a mont, Festus didn't even breathe. His whole body stiffened, his expression slowly twisting from arrogance to disbelief. His pupils widened, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He knew that voice he knew it too well.
It was Jas.
And as the realization hit him, Festus's face turned pale. His fake smile vanished. The blood drained from his cheeks, leaving only fear. His mind started racing Jas was supposed to have be running. How could he be here, let alone talking?
His heartbeat quickened, pounding in his ears like thunder. Then, in a burst of rage, Festus shouted, "Jas! You crazy bastard!" His voice cracked halfway through the na. "You dare open your filthy mouth? You dare speak against ?!"
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