Chapter 56 Chapter 56
At that moment, without wasting another second, Tasha fumbled for her phone with trembling fingers.
Her whole body was still vibrating from pain and humiliation. One hand remained pressed against her mouth, streaked with blood; the other clutched her phone so tightly it looked as though she might crack it in her grip. Her face had already begun to swell, and the broken bridge of her nose made every breath look difficult.
But more than the pain, what burned inside her now was outrage.
Pure outrage.
“My uncle must hear about this,” she said immediately, her voice shaking with fury and tears. “My uncle will definitely hear about this.”
The declaration electrified Vincent and the rest of his family at once.
They closed in around her, not physically touching, but surrounding her with loud encouragement, with the eager intensity of people who felt justice was now finally about to swing in their favor.
“Make the call,” Vincent said without hesitation.
“Yes, call him right now,” Deborah added sharply. “He needs to hear this immediately.”
Jessica, still flushed from the chaos, nodded vigorously. “Don’t waste time. This nonsense girl has gone too far.”
Mr. Bushman, who had watched everything unfold with a dark, tight expression, joined in too. “This is exactly what should happen. She needs to be taught a lesson.”
Deborah’s voice grew bolder as she looked straight at Megan.
“We need to teach this good-for-nothing girl some manners,” she said. “And send her straight back to that prison where she came from.”
That word again.
Prison.
Angered Megan it was as if they enjoyed throwing it at her.
As though reducing her to that chapter of her life made everything they did acceptable.
Ignoring them all, Megan stood still, silent, watching.
Tasha raised the phone to her ear.
The crowd quieted in anticipation.
The call rang once.
Twice, then it connected.
The moment her uncle picked up, his voice came through firm and direct, the voice of a man clearly not used to waiting around for unnecessary explanations.
“Tasha,” he said, going straight to the point, “I am already here. Where are you people? Weren’t you supposed to be here by now?”
The authority in his tone was unmistakable.
Even hearing only his side of the conversation, a few people in the crowd straightened unconsciously.
But Tasha did not answer calmly.
The moment she heard his voice, she broke into tears.
Not quiet tears, not restrained tears.
Loud, wounded, dramatic crying—the kind meant not only to express pain, but to communicate victimhood in the clearest possible way.
“Uncle…” she began, her voice cracking. “We are here already, but somebody… somebody attacked me.”
She sobbed harder.
“One useless, good-for-nothing fool of a woman—an ex-convict, for that matter—just attacked me. She slapped me. She slapped me so hard that my nose is broken.”
She pressed her hand harder against her face and cried louder.
“My nose is broken, Uncle. And I’ve even lost two teeth.”
A fresh wave of murmuring rose from the onlookers.
Tasha continued, making sure her pain was heard and felt.
“As I’m speaking to you right now, she has humiliated me outside the entrance. Right here. Right in public.” Her breathing became more ragged. “I didn’t even know what to do. It looks like I may need to go to the hospital.”
Then, as though to sharpen the offense, she added, “And the worst part is, she knew exactly who I was. She knew. But she still did this to me.”
The words seemed to strike something hard on the other end of the line.
There was a brief pause.
Then General Zachariah’s voice changed.
The controlled edge in it deepened into something dangerous.
“Are you trying to tell me,” he said slowly, “that somebody assaulted you?”
Tasha nodded instinctively, though he could not see her.
“Yes,” she said at once, crying harder. “Yes, Uncle. And not just that—you need to see my face. You need to see what she has done to me.”
At that moment, even Vincent looked satisfied, as though every second of this call was moving exactly the way he wanted.
Then General Zachariah spoke again, and this time the fury in his voice was no longer hidden.
“Where the hell is she?” he demanded. “Where the hell is she now?”
The people closest to Tasha could hear enough to understand his tone, and it sent another ripple through the crowd.
Then he asked sharply, “She hasn’t left there, has she?”
Tasha wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing blood and tears together.
“No,” she said quickly. “She hasn’t left. She is still here.”
Then, lifting her chin despite the pain, she cast a bitter look at Megan and said into the phone, “She is waiting for you. She said she wants to see what you will be able to do.”