Chapter 52 Chapter 52
The moment Jessica tried to lunge at her, Megan moved with swift precision and caught her wrist.
The grip was immediate, firm.
Unyielding, immediately Jessica gasped at once.
She had expected Megan to recoil, perhaps to step back, perhaps even to stand there and absorb yet another insult without reacting. But this was not what she had imagined. Megan’s hand locked around her wrist with such force that the movement stopped instantly, as though Jessica had been caught in iron.
For a second, Jessica simply stared.
Then she tried to yank her hand back.
But Megan did not let go.
Jessica pulled harder, twisting her arm, trying to free herself, but Megan’s grip only remained steady, cold, and immovable. The harder Jessica struggled, the more obvious it became that she could not drag her hand free.
That alone was enough to start another uproar.
The entire family reacted at once.
“What are you doing?” Deborah shouted, rushing forward but stopping just short of touching Megan.
Her face twisted with outrage as she pointed accusingly.
“Why are you trying to injure her? Why are you using those strong prison hands of yours on her?” she yelled. “Those disgusting prison hands of yours!”
The insult rang sharply through the air, but Megan’s expression did not change.
Her eyes remained fixed on Jessica, whose face had now gone from arrogance to discomfort. Panic was beginning to creep into her features not because Megan had done anything excessive, but because for the first time, she was the one being physically checked.
Then, without warning, Megan released her, not gently.
She shoved Jessica backward.
Jessica staggered several steps, nearly losing her balance before she caught herself. She grabbed her own wrist immediately and began rubbing at it frantically. The skin where Megan had held her was already marked with faint red bruising, enough to make her indignation flare even more.
Her eyes widened dramatically.
Although she was clearly in some pain, it was equally obvious that she was now exaggerating it for effect.
“She injured me!” Jessica cried out. “Just look at what she did to my hand! She injured me!”
She clutched her wrist to her chest as though it had been severely damaged, her voice filled with wounded outrage.
The sight of those red marks was all the family needed to turn even more aggressively against Megan.
Before Tasha could even say anything, Vincent stepped forward again, his patience now visibly shattered.
“I am sick and tired of this nonsense,” he snapped.
His voice carried across the entrance with enough force to draw more attention from nearby staff and guests.
“This attitude of yours—this shameless, worthless attitude you keep putting on I have told you countless times already, it is not going to work.”
His face was tight with anger, his finger lifting to point directly at Megan.
“There is absolutely nothing you can do that will make me take you back.”
He said it with such emphasis that it was clear this accusation had been living in his mind for a long time, whether or not it had any basis in reality.
Then he turned and pointed at Tasha.
“She is my life,” he declared. “She is my love.”
Tasha stood beside him, chin raised, not interrupting.
“Everything I am now,” Vincent continued, “is because of her. She motivated me. She pushed me. She supported me. She did everything possible to make sure I got to where I am today.”
Then he looked back at Megan with fresh bitterness.
“And you?” he said. “You went to prison.”
He paused, then added with cruel emphasis, “And the circumstances under which you went there—you volunteered for it. You pushed for it yourself in the first place. Nobody forced you.”
His words came out with increasing harshness, as though he had convinced himself of this version of events so deeply that he now saw it as undeniable fact.
“So why are you trying to use it against us now?” he demanded. “Why are you acting like some victim?”
He laughed bitterly.
“It is not going to work.”
His anger sharpened even further.
“We offered you money,” he said. “You rejected it. And now, because you refused what was given to you, you are trying every possible way to destroy my life.”
He took another step forward, his voice dropping into something colder, more threatening.
“But let me make this very clear to you—it is not going to happen.”
Then he lifted his hand slightly, as though underlining every word that came next.
“And let this serve as a warning.”
His stare hardened.
“This should be the very first and the very last time you will ever try this sort of thing again.”
Immediately, Vincent pointed toward the exit with a trembling hand, his anger now stripped of all restraint.
“Now get out of my face,” he snapped. “Before I literally change my mind about you. Get out. You irritate me. You annoy me to the bone. Get out.”
The command came out harsh and ugly, loud enough to turn more heads in the direction of the growing confrontation. A few people at the entrance had already begun slowing their steps, drawn by the tension. Some staff members exchanged uneasy looks, clearly unsure whether to intervene.
But Megan did not move.
She stood there, blood still faintly marking the corner of her lip, her clothes still in place, her expression colder now than it had been moments earlier.
Then she looked directly at Vincent and said, with a quietness that somehow hit harder than shouting, “You ungrateful bastard.”