Chapter221 Too Light a Punishment
Nearby, the moment Isabella finished speaking, a flash of impatience crossed her mother's face. Miranda caught it instantly.
So that was how they saw it. If she refused to forgive Isabella, she was the unreasonable one.
Miranda let out a cold laugh. The warmth in her eyes gave way to something sharp and undisguised.
She didn't bother looking at the hysterical Isabella. Instead, she turned her gaze directly to Mrs. Martinez, who was doing her best to look composed and gracious.
"Mrs. Martinez, since you think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill," Miranda's voice cooled by several degrees, "why don't we let your daughter experience exactly what she put me through yesterday, and see if you'd be so quick to forgive me then?"
The smile on Mrs. Martinez's face stiffened.
Miranda didn't enjoy speaking to another woman this way. But when someone had repeatedly slandered and schemed against her, she had no reason to hold back.
What would have happened if Isabella had actually succeeded yesterday?
Her reputation would have been dragged through the mud. She would have become the laughingstock of every elite circle in the city.
And Mr. Prescott would never have tolerated it. A grandson's wife with a cheating scandal, a woman who publicly tangled with her ex-husband, had no place in the Prescott family, even if she was the victim.
The outside world wouldn't care about the truth. People only remembered the scandal, the filth, the most sensational version of events.
And the Prescott family hadn't built its empire on clean hands alone. Miranda had no illusions about that.
If Isabella's plan had worked, divorce would have been the least of her problems.
The most likely outcome was a quiet, convenient accident.
Because a living Prescott daughter-in-law branded with that kind of shame would be a permanent stain on the family's name.
Dead women couldn't be talked about.
Miranda understood this world clearly. And that was exactly why she would never, under any circumstances, forgive Isabella today.
"You..." Isabella's face went scarlet the moment she heard Miranda's words. Jealousy and fury blazed through her chest. She didn't even stop to think. "Miranda, you btch! You wouldn't dare!"
SMACK.
The slap landed before the last word left her mouth. It was harder and louder than the one Arthur had given her the night before.
Isabella stumbled from the impact. A thin line of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. She pressed her hand to her burning cheek, her ears ringing.
She thought numbly that these past few days had brought her more slaps than her entire life combined.
Yesterday it was her brother, the one who had always spoiled her. Today it was her father, the man who had treated her like she was the center of his world.
She looked up at him in disbelief. He was staring back at her with barely contained fury.
Mr. Martinez hadn't expected things to go this far. He had come prepared with a sincere apology and a generous check, fully expecting to smooth things over and put the matter to rest.
But his daughter had just insulted Miranda directly in front of Mr. Prescott and Clifton. An apology and a payout weren't going to cut it anymore.
He drew a slow breath and forced his anger down. He looked to Mr. Prescott at the head of the table, then to Clifton beside him, his voice heavier than it had ever been.
"Uncle Prescott. Clifton. This is my failure. I didn't raise her right. I'll have her on a flight out of the country before the day is over. She will never set foot back here again. I give you my word."
For someone like Isabella, a girl who had grown up cocooned in family wealth and privilege, being exiled from the country meant losing everything she had ever known.
Isabella's eyes went wide. She spun toward her father, her voice breaking into a shriek. "I'm not going abroad! I won't go!"
Her mother grabbed her arm sharply and shot her a look that said shut your mouth.
Mr. Martinez acted as though he hadn't heard his daughter at all. He gave her one cold glare, then reached inside his jacket and withdrew a black bank card. He held it out toward Miranda with both hands.
"Miranda. There's seven figures on this card. The pin is six eights. Consider it a personal apology from the Martinez family for the distress we caused you."
Every word cost him something.
He had come with two cards. The first held two million, enough to close the matter if Mr. Prescott was feeling reasonable.
The card he was handing over now held twenty million.
Two million wasn't going to be enough. Not today. So he swallowed the pain and handed over the one that made his chest ache.
Clifton, who had been silent throughout, finally reacted.
He let out a quiet, humorless scoff.
"Too light."
This punishment was far too light.
Arthur had been holding himself together with great effort, but those two words pushed him to the edge. He stepped forward and looked at Clifton, his voice carrying a note of both appeal and frustration.
"Clifton, I know Isabella was wrong. But given how long our families have known each other, can't you just..."
Mr. Prescott cut him off with a voice like ice water.
"Clifton is right. If the Martinez family dared to go after the wife of a Prescott heir, then you should have known what kind of consequences you were inviting."
The message was plain. Miranda was not just a woman named Miranda. She was the legitimate wife of the Prescott heir. She was the face of the Prescott family.
To touch her was to slap Mr. Prescott himself.
Once the old man had spoken, no one in the Martinez family had a single word left to say.
Mr. Martinez felt the ground shift beneath him. He was furious and sick with grief at the same time. But his expression stayed composed, even managed something close to a smile.
"Then, Uncle Prescott, whatever Miranda needs from us, name it. The Martinez family will provide it."
Mr. Prescott said nothing. He simply glanced at his grandson and handed the matter over entirely.
Clifton felt his grandfather's gaze and let his own eyes settle on the Martinez family. Cold. Still. Like standing water in winter.
"On top of everything you've already offered," he said, pausing for a moment, "I want one of Isabella's hands. And the three properties she purchased recently."
Silence.
Every face in the Martinez camp drained of color.
Those three properties had been bought specifically for Isabella after the family's business relocated back to the country. Prime locations, all of them, right in the heart of the city. Combined, their value had long since crossed a hundred million.
But that wasn't the worst part.
He wanted to take Isabella's hand.
The shock and terror on Isabella's face peaked all at once. Her whole body was shaking. Her lips moved but no sound came out.
Clifton.
The man she had loved for so many years wanted to take her hand.
No. This couldn't be real. He was trying to scare her. He had to be.
But the rest of the Martinez family didn't share that hope.
They knew Clifton. They had watched him take control of an entire commercial empire before most men his age had proven themselves at all.
When this man said something, there was no walking it back. No negotiation. No door left open.
Mr. Martinez swayed where he stood. For a moment it looked like his legs might give out.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked at his daughter. The love in his face was real. So was the grief. But underneath both of them was something harder: resignation.
He knew what would happen if he refused. The entire Martinez family would face the full weight of Prescott's retaliation.
He clenched his jaw and forced the words out.
"Fine. We'll do it your way."