Chapter 46 Chapter 46
At that moment, the seven women stood frozen, visibly stunned by Megan’s response.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
It was as though the words she had just spoken had struck them harder than they themselves expected. They had likely come to her gate expecting reluctance, maybe excuses, perhaps even pleading—but not this. Not this calm refusal. Not this open dismissal.
Their faces changed almost all at once.
Shock first, then disbelief, then wounded pride, and finally, anger.
The president was the first to recover.
She took a step forward, her expression tightening with offense, and said sharply, “Excuse me—what did you just say?”
Megan did not flinch.
She looked directly at the woman and repeated herself, slowly this time, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
“I said,” she replied, “that when all of you are done here, you can leave my compound, because I’ll be going upstairs to rest. I am not going to honor any of those things you just mentioned.”
Her voice was steady, almost indifferent, and that only seemed to irritate them more.
Then she stretched out her hand and offered the paper back.
No one moved to take it, not the president.
Not the others.
Their silence was deliberate, prideful.
So Megan simply let the paper slip from her fingers.
It fluttered to the ground at their feet.
That was the moment the mood shifted completely.
Immediately, the other six women burst into mocking claps and exclamations, their outrage no longer hidden.
“What the hell did you just do?”
“What kind of insolence is this?”
“Who do you think you are?”
Their voices rose over one another, filled with disbelief and insult. Some of them laughed bitterly. Others looked at Megan as though they had just witnessed something unforgivable.
The president, however, did not allow the noise to continue for long.
She lifted a hand sharply, silencing the others, then stared at Megan with a look so cold it seemed to strip the air of warmth.
“Well,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “it seems you are stubborn.”
Her lips tightened.
“It seems you do not understand what you have just gotten yourself into.”
There was a long pause after that, the kind that carried more threat than words.
Then one of the women beside her quickly stepped forward, raising her hands in a placating gesture.
“Please, Mrs. Abigail, just calm down,” she said. “Calm down. It has not gotten to that point yet.”
She turned briefly toward Megan, then back to the president.
“It seems she doesn’t know what she is doing. Don’t worry. Just allow me.”
Her tone became softer, almost patronizing.
“I’m sure she will come back to her senses when she understand what is happening. And when she does, she will apologize not only to you, but to all of us, properly.”
Mrs. Abigail was still visibly trembling with anger.
“She had better apologize,” she snapped. “Because with this kind of attitude, I would not even accept an apology from her if it is not done the proper way.”
Her chest rose and fell as though she was fighting to maintain control.
The other woman nodded quickly.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “Just calm down and let me speak to her.”
Then she adjusted herself, smoothed the front of her dress, and stepped fully forward until she was now the one addressing Megan directly.
Unlike the president, her voice was less openly hostile, but there was something in it that was perhaps even more unpleasant a practiced superiority, the kind used by people who believed status alone should be enough to make others bow.
“I am Mrs. Veronica,” she said. “The Vice President of the Women’s Association.”
She glanced toward the woman beside her with deliberate emphasis.
“So the lady you just spoke to is our president.”
She paused, letting that sink in before continuing.
“And not just our president,” she added, “her husband is a senator. A senator of this district.”
The other women straightened slightly, clearly pleased by the weight of that statement.
Mrs. Veronica went on, her voice now carrying the polished pride of someone reciting a title she knew was meant to intimidate.
“And not only is her husband a senator, but her brother is also the Chief of Staff in this state—someone very close to the governor.”
Mrs. Veronica did not stop there.
If anything, the slight narrowing of Megan’s eyes seemed to encourage her. She lifted her chin higher, folded one hand over the other, and continued speaking with the polished authority of someone used to winning arguments simply by listing powerful names.
“And not just that,” she said. “It is not only that her husband is a senator and her brother is the Chief of Staff. Her entire family is politically connected. Politically established. Politically strong in this state.”
She paused for effect, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.
“I am sure you must be a stranger here,” she went on, her tone turning faintly patronizing. “Because if you were not a stranger, you would know them. You would know that family very well. You would know the Zacharias family.”