Chapter 51 Chapter 51
Deborah stepped forward almost immediately, her face twisted with outrage.
“After everything you’ve done,” she spat, “after all that you’ve already done, you still have the nerve to come here and stand in front of us as if nothing happened? You think we don’t know what you did? You think we’re blind?”
Her voice rose with every sentence, drawing the attention of a few people near the entrance.
“And now you are here again,” she continued, “still showing your face, still following us around, still looking for another chance to do more damage. Well, let me tell you something—that is not going to happen. It will never happen.”
Megan’s eyes moved slowly from one face to another.
Vincent, Deborah, Jessica, Mr. Bushman, Tasha.
One by one, she looked at them, not with fear, but with a kind of exhausted restraint, as though she simply did not have the patience to waste on another scene.
Then she said, flatly, “I don’t have the strength for any of this. Just get out of my way, and I’ll pretend none of this happened.”
She had barely finished speaking—
A sharp sound split the air.
“Slap!!”
The slap landed hard across her face, It was sudden, loud, and forceful enough to turn several heads nearby.
For one suspended moment, the world around them seemed to freeze.
But Megan did not stumble, she did not cry out, she did not even flinch.
She remained standing exactly where she was, as still as stone, though the force of the slap had split the corner of her lip. A thin line of blood appeared almost at once.
Slowly, Megan lifted her hand and touched the side of her mouth.
When she drew her fingers back, she saw the blood.
She looked at it in silence.
Then Vincent stepped forward, his face dark with rage, and pointed at her.
“That,” he said, voice thick with fury, “is just the tip of the iceberg of what I’m going to do to you.”
His chest rose and fell heavily.
“You think you can walk out of prison and start committing nonsense again like the ex-convict you are?” he snarled. “You think I’m going to fold my hands and watch you ruin everything?”
His anger was no longer restrained now.
It came out like a flood, years of resentment, bitterness, and blame pouring through every word.
“You are a crazy witch,” he said viciously. “For you to decide that you want to destroy what I have worked so hard for—what I have built over the years what gives you that right?”
He jabbed a finger toward her as if accusing her before a crowd.
“You were rotting away in prison while I was out there struggling, thinking, working, sacrificing, trying to build something for myself. I cracked my head to get to where I am today. I earned every inch of it.”
His jaw tightened again.
“But I don’t know what kind of lies you told Mr. Oliver,” he went on bitterly, “or that good-for-nothing Diamond Bank director—what is his name again? I don’t even care. I don’t know what you’ve been feeding them. I don’t know how you manipulated them with your tricks and your fake innocence.”
His eyes burned with accusation.
“But somehow, the contract has been suspended.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“Yes,” he said. “I know you know about it. Don’t pretend. Don’t even try.”
Then his voice dropped lower, colder.
“But that is where it ends.”
He stepped closer.
“Because I will never again fold my hands and watch you destroy my life.”
He practically hissed the next words.
“Never.”
There was venom in his expression now, the kind of hatred that had fed on itself for a long time and finally found an open door.
“You do not deserve this opportunity,” he said. “You do not deserve sympathy. You do not deserve pity.”
Then he pointed away from the entrance.
“So before I completely lose my temper before I lose my mind even more—turn around and walk away.”
His stare was hard enough to cut.
“And when I get my contract back, be ready.”
His mouth twisted with promise and threat all at once.
“Be ready for the worst, because I’m going to hit you so badly…”
He let the words settle, ugly and deliberate.
“…that even the years you spent in prison will look like a mere vacation.”
Then, with final and terrible emphasis, he said, “You are going to go back there.”
Immediately, Jessica burst into laughter.
It was not the laughter of amusement. It was sharp, cruel, and full of mockery, the kind that came from someone enjoying another person’s humiliation far too much.
“Brother Vincent,” she said between amused scoffs, “you could have gone a little easier on her. She’s a woman, after all.”
Then she tilted her head and smirked.
“Even though she’s a wicked woman.”
The others said nothing, and that only encouraged her.
“But honestly,” Jessica continued, “you’re still being too soft on her. I don’t even understand this one you just did. This is too gentle.”
She folded her arms, then began listing her own ideas with disturbing ease.
“If it were me, I would have pulled her hair first,” she said. “I would have ripped it out properly. I would have shaken her until she lost balance. I would have scratched that face of hers and redesigned it completely.”
Her eyes flashed with spite as she looked Megan up and down.
“Because why should anyone go easy on her? Don’t you all know what she did? Don’t you know the kind of damage she has caused?”
Her voice rose again.
“And for her to even show up here like this, I’m sure she has another plan. I’m very sure of it. Someone like her never comes empty-handed. She must already be plotting another nonsense.”
Deborah gave a bitter nod of agreement.
Jessica went on, now speaking more boldly, more recklessly, carried away by her own malice.
“In fact,” she said, “I would even advise that security should be called. Or better yet, the police. Let them come and arrest her right here.”
She pointed accusingly at Megan.
“She has defamed you. She has tarnished your image. She lied to Mr. Oliver. She twisted everything. She manipulated the story. And we are all just standing here as if this is something small? No. We shouldn’t take this lightly at all.”
By now, her face was animated with anger and self-righteous excitement.
She took a sharp step forward.
“If nobody else will deal with her properly, then let me at least start somewhere,” she snapped.
And immediately, she stretched her hand forward, reaching for Megan’s head—wanting to grab her hair.
immediately Megan caught her wrist midair.