Chapter 47 Chapter 47
Several of the women behind her nodded eagerly, as though the name alone should have been enough to force Megan into immediate submission.
Mrs. Veronica took another small step forward.
“So I would strongly suggest,” she said, “that you watch yourself and retrace your steps. Apologize to her immediately.”
She then touched her own chest lightly.
“And not only to her—even to me.”
Then, one by one, she gestured toward the remaining women standing behind her.
“And to them as well. Every one of them deserves an apology from you.”
The other women straightened, smoothing their dresses, adjusting their posture, each one looking more self-important than the last.
“Because if we begin to introduce ourselves properly,” Mrs. Veronica continued, “you will understand that this is not just some ordinary women’s association. This is an association of influence. An association that benefits people. An association that commands power.”
Her voice sharpened slightly.
“So I hope, now that you have heard all this, you understand the message I am trying to pass across to you.”
She spread her hands as if presenting Megan with a final opportunity.
“So now,” she said, “do the needful. Apologize properly. And do so with gratitude.”
The silence that followed was thick with expectation.
Mrs. Abigail visibly puffed out her chest, clearly convinced that the matter had been settled at last. She stood there with the expression of a woman who believed Megan had now been properly educated on the kind of territory she had dared to challenge.
The other women followed suit.
One adjusted her scarf.
Another straightened her gown, a third folded her arms with smug satisfaction.
They all looked ready... ready to receive Megan’s apology, ready to enjoy her humiliation, ready to watch her step down from whatever courage had made her refuse them in the first place.
But Megan did not look humbled, She did not look nervous.
She did not look impressed.
Instead, she stood there in complete stillness, her gaze moving calmly from one face to another, as though she were measuring each of them and finding very little to fear.
Then she spoke.
“Do I look like someone who cares about all the shenanigans you just mentioned?”
The question landed like a slap.
The smugness on their faces faltered.
Megan continued, her tone level, almost cold in its simplicity.
“Yes, her husband is the senator of this district. Who cares?”
A few of the women gasped.
Megan did not stop.
“Her brother is the Chief of Staff to the governor,” she went on. “Very close to the governor, you say. Do I look like I care?”
Now the outrage on their faces was immediate.
But Megan’s voice only grew firmer.
“Those things do not intimidate me,” she said. “They should not even be used to intimidate anyone. They are public servants. They are supposed to be working for the people who voted for them—not serving as trophies for family members who want to throw around titles and brag.”
That struck deeper than the earlier refusal.
Mrs. Abigail’s face changed instantly, her expression tightening with pure offense.
Still, Megan pressed on.
“And even with all those positions you just listed,” she said, “that does not mean I should keep quiet when I see something wrong. Wrong is wrong. Power does not suddenly make nonsense become law.”
She lifted the policy paper slightly, then let it fall again toward the ground.
“These so-called rules you people put together?” she said. “They are not going to work on me.”
Her voice sharpened now, and there was no softness left in it.
“I will never fold my hands and obey regulations that have no real purpose except to bully people. That is all this is—bullying.”
Her gaze moved across all seven women.
“And what you are doing here is nothing more than trying to exert dominance.”
The accusation made several of them shift uneasily, though none of them spoke.
Megan took one step closer, not aggressively, but with enough confidence to make it clear she was not retreating.
“Well, as for me,” she said, “I do not care.”
Each word came out clean and deliberate.
“And this should be the very last time you will ever, ever bring up something like this in front of me again.”
Without waiting for a reply, Megan turned and started walking away.
She did not look back.
Not once.
There was something especially insulting about that not just her refusal, not just her words, but the simple fact that she was done with them. Done enough to turn her back on seven angry women and proceed toward her house as though they were no longer worth another second of her attention.
As she walked, she spoke over her shoulder in a calm, warning tone.
“You had better leave my compound now,” she said, “because if you fail to do so, I will report you for trespassing on private property—uninvited and unannounced. And I’m sure your so-called family knows the law well enough.”
Then, without slowing, she climbed the steps and entered the house.
The door closed behind her.
Outside, silence swallowed the compound.
For a moment, none of the women moved.
Mrs. Abigail, Mrs. Veronica, and the remaining five women simply stood there staring at the house, stunned beyond immediate speech. Their expressions were almost identical—offended, astonished, and deeply unsettled by what had just happened.
They had come expecting resistance, perhaps.
But not this, not such fearless dismissal.
Not such open contempt.
And certainly not from a woman who, in their minds, should have already begun regretting her tone the moment she heard the names and titles they carried.
But Megan had not trembled.
She had not softened, she had not tried to negotiate, she had simply rejected them..and walked away.
Mrs. Abigail was the first to react.
Slowly, she lifted one hand and pointed toward the front door Megan had just disappeared through, her mouth still slightly open in disbelief.
She looked around at the others, as though asking them to confirm that what had just happened was real.
“Was she…” she began, still visibly stunned. “Was she actually talking to us like that?”
Mrs. Veronica turned to her and gave a stiff nod.
“Yes,” she said. “She was.”
Then her face hardened.
“And she seems to be very, very troublesome. Just imagine the kind of things she said to us.”