Chapter 112 Three Seconds of Flying
"This lady, please watch your tone," Bill said, his typically pleasant expression turning serious as he stepped between me and the angry woman.
The woman gave a contemptuous snort. "What can you do?"
She jabbed her finger in my direction, her face flushed with anger. "Just because she has special invitation privileges, she bought all the limited edition NM designer surfboards! Every single one!"
The man tried to grab her arm, but she shook him off violently.
"We flew five hours from Los Angeles specifically for this exhibition!" she continued, practically shouting now. "All to see NM in person and buy one of his limited edition boards."
Her eyes narrowed at me. "And you just bought everything. Why don't you host your own private exhibition?"
I stepped around Bill, moving directly in front of her. "That's right. I used my invitations to buy them all. Got a problem with that? Maybe you should've gotten better invitations."
Her eyes widened in shock at my directness.
"You flew five hours to get here, so NM has to meet you?" I laughed. "What kind of entitlement is that? If you'd crashed after ten hours of flying, would Heaven have to open a VIP lane for you? Would God himself have to greet you personally?"
I leaned closer. "The fact that I have invitation number 001, and that pisses you off, doesn't it? If you're so important, why didn't NM personally hand you an invitation?"
"You're so rude!" the woman gasped, clutching her designer purse like it was a shield.
"I'm rude?" I stepped even closer. "Honey, if I really showed you rude, you wouldn't be standing here talking."
I turned to Mason, who looked increasingly uncomfortable. "You—take your girlfriend and stay the hell away from me!"
The exhibition manager rushed over, apologetic expression firmly in place as he gestured for Mason to lead his companion away from our group.
As I turned to walk away, I heard the woman's voice again, this time directed at Mason.
"Why are you pulling me away? Can't you see I'm being bullied?" she shrieked. "You coward!"
Mason's patience finally snapped. "Enough, Chrissy! I told you I came to New York for work! You insisted on tagging along! Why are you causing trouble here?"
"Work, work, work!" Chrissy mocked. "What good has it done? Did you meet NM? Did you get a surfboard?"
She gestured wildly toward me. "If you're so capable, get NM to give me an invitation too! If you're so capable, let me buy sixteen limited edition boards too!"
I was about to walk away and let them sort out their domestic drama when Chrissy suddenly raised her voice even louder, waving frantically at a group of early VIP guests who had just entered.
"Everyone! Come judge for yourselves!" she called out.
"It's this so-called Mrs. Sterling!" She pointed accusingly at me. "With her eight invitations, she bought sixteen surfboards from the limited section! There's nothing left for anyone else!"
Curious guests moved closer, intrigued by the spectacle. I stood my ground, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when someone would recognize me.
Sure enough, as soon as people spotted us, their eager expressions of schadenfreude quickly morphed into polite smiles as they prepared to greet Alexander.
The exhibition manager stepped forward, addressing Chrissy with practiced professionalism. "Ma'am, please lower your voice in the exhibition hall. Mrs. Sterling was able to purchase these boards because her invitation numbers were the earliest—001 through 008 are all in her possession."
He continued, "And regardless of invitations, Mrs. Sterling arrived earlier than you did. Following the first-come-first-served principle, she would have priority anyway."
One of the onlookers spoke up. "Miss, the exhibition invitations clearly state that earlier numbers have purchasing priority. Mrs. Sterling has early numbers, so she's entitled to buy these boards. It's completely within the rules."
Chrissy's face contorted with rage. "She must have used some underhanded methods to get so many invitations! Look at her!" She gestured wildly at me. "One woman surrounded by five men! What kind of group activity are you guys playing at?"
Then she turned directly to Alexander. "Mr. Sterling! I see you're wearing high-end custom suits. Doesn't it bother you that your wife is surrounded by all these men?"
Before she could finish her sentence, I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face, the sound echoing through the now-silent exhibition hall.
"How dare you hit me?" Chrissy gasped, holding her reddening cheek.
I smiled coldly. "Why did I hit you? Don't you know?"
I looked around and spotted a woman in early thirties. "Excuse me, lady. You're from New York, right? I'm Emma North. Could you please tell her who I am?"
The woman looked startled for a moment, then turned to Chrissy. "Emma North is the daughter of the North family. North Enterprises ranks second in New York's business world. You said she bought sixteen surfboards? If she wanted to, she could buy every board in this exhibition."
Chrissy looked shocked that a random stranger would know so much about me.
I gestured to another man in his twenties. "Sir, could you tell her what nickname people have given me?"
Without hesitation, he replied, "Mrs. Sterling's nickname is 'Hurricane.' There's no one she's afraid to deal with, and no one she can't handle."
Chrissy and Mason stood frozen, unable to respond.
"Know why I'm telling you this?" I smiled coldly. "So you understand exactly why you got slapped!"
I moved closer to her. "You're pretty enough, but that mouth is disgusting. Someone needs to teach you a lesson!"
"GET OUT!" I shouted, and kicked her hard in the stomach.
Chrissy flew back several feet, landing hard on the floor, too stunned to even cry out.
Alexander stepped to my side, wrapping an arm around me and checking my foot. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I assured him, walking toward Chrissy.
I crouched down beside her prone form. "You seem to know a lot about group activities. How many have you participated in?"
Mason rushed over, positioning himself protectively in front of Chrissy. "Mrs. Sterling, please don't hurt her anymore!"
I stood up, rolling up my sleeves. "Perfect timing."
Before I could make a move, Alexander stepped forward and kicked Mason, sending him flying twice as far as Chrissy had gone. He landed with a thud, immediately coughing up blood.
"When women are talking," Alexander said coldly, "men shouldn't interrupt."
Chrissy's face went deathly pale seeing her boyfriend's state.
"You... you'll go to jail for assault!" she stammered.
I laughed, picking up her fallen phone and tossing it to her. "Go ahead, call the police."
As she trembled, fumbling with her phone, I casually sat down on the floor.
"Bill," I called out, "call the New York media. Get them all here."
I pointed to the security cameras mounted in the corners of the exhibition hall. "Those cameras recorded everything. We'll give the footage to both the police and the media."
"Famous surf instructor Mason Kennedy and girlfriend verbally abuse Mrs. Sterling at New York exhibition, receive deserved lesson."
"Make sure to tell all the media outlets to get their best photographers. I haven't been on social media's trending topics for a while. If I don't make an appearance soon, I'm worried people might forget about me."