Chapter 317
At that moment, without wasting another second, Mr. Jackson’s voice tore through the thick silence like a slap to the face.
“What are you still doing on your feet?!” he roared at Robert, veins pulsing on his forehead. “Get on your knees this instant and beg for our survival! Are you deaf or are you waiting for lightning to strike you dead, huh?! What in hell is wrong with you p>
Immediately Robert’s body jerked as if someone had slapped him awake. He turned slowly again to see his own father on his knees. Not just him—Abigail’s father, too. Both men who held power, money, and pride, were now groveling before Lisa like trembling children caught stealing.
The room was frozen in disbelief. Robert’s heart pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment, he thought he might collapse from the pressure. But then reality set in like a heavy weight.
If both men could abandon their pride this quickly…Then who was he to resist?
Without even thinking, he sank to his knees, his legs hitting the polished floor with a hard thud. His head dropped. His entire body shook—not from shame, but from fear.
Because now… now he understood.
They hadn’t just insulted a random woman. They hadn’t just tried to act tough with a stranger.
He had disrespected Lisa the investment goddess. The ghost behind almost every major successful deal. The woman no one ever saw but everyone in power feared. The one his own father used to speak of in whispers and reverence.
And he had threatened the man who stood beside her?
His chest tightened. The taste of regret was bitter in his mouth.
Just then, a sharp gasp cut through the tension. It was the security guard the same one who had earlier screamed and tried to throw them out.
His mouth dropped open, his eyes rolled back, and before anyone could stop him, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
The thud echoed. But nobody rushed to him, because in that moment, Lisa finally spoke again.
She turned her gaze toward the three men now kneeling in front of her—Mr. Jackson, Robert, and Abigail’s father.
Her expression was cold. Unreadable. Her words, however, sliced through the air like icy steel.
“Well,” she said softly, yet every syllable struck with authority, “you see, it is not actually good to fight the hand that is feeding you p>
Without wasting another second, Lisa raised her hand and pointed a sharp finger directly at Mr. Jackson, then turned it toward Robert with the same intensity. Her eyes flared with righteous anger, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You,” she hissed at Mr. Jackson, “and you,” she turned to Robert, “had the audacity… no, the temerity to speak to my master like he was a common dog on the street p>
She took a step forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor, her presence sending a cold chill through the room. “Who do you think you are?” she continued, her tone rising with each word. “What have you done in this life that gives you the right to even raise your voices in his presence? You’re nothing but privileged fools hiding behind wealth that’s not even truly yours p>
Lisa paused, eyes narrowing. “Let me tell you something,” she said, her voice now dangerously calm. “If it weren’t for the fact that my master”—she tilted her head toward Oliver—”in his gracious mercy, told me not to go beyond my boundaries, I would have gladly inflicted pain on both of you. Pain so sharp, so deep, you would carry the scars for the rest of your pathetic lives. Maybe then, you’d remember the moment you crossed a line you should have never dared to approach p>
At that moment everyone in the room held their breath. The atmosphere was suffocating, thick with shame and fear. Even the walls seemed to shrink away from Lisa’s wrath.
Robert, still on his knees, looked like a man who wanted to dig a hole in the ground and vanish inside. Mr. Jackson didn’t dare lift his head. Abigail’s father remained frozen in place, barely breathing.
Just then, and only then, did Oliver finally speak. His tone was quiet, controlled, but it echoed with authority, the kind of voice that didn’t need to be loud to command a room.
“Lisa,” he said calmly, “that’s enough p>
Lisa immediately stepped back without question, folding her hands respectfully in front of her. She gave a slight nod, her anger still simmering in her eyes, but she obeyed.
Oliver then looked around the room slowly, taking in the sight of the once-proud men now trembling at his feet. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He simply said, “I didn’t come here for apologies. I didn’t come here for tears. I came here for something else entirely p>
He paused, looking at them like a hunter sizing up prey.
“…and I believe it’s time for me to take over p>
Without wasting another word or saying anything further, Lisa immediately fell silent. She lowered her head toward Oliver without hesitation. It wasn’t out of fear—it was out of deep, knowing respect. She might be Oliver’s personal secretary, someone who could argue or tease him in private, someone who had stood beside him through impossible deals and brutal power plays, but this moment was different. Lisa had known Oliver long enough to recognize that tone in his voice. It wasn’t anger. It was that rare, calm sharpness that came only when he was completely done tolerating nonsense.
Lisa understood what it meant. It was time to let the master move.
The moment her head bowed, the air in the room shifted. Like a gust had blown through the walls without warning. anyone could feel the tension crackle around the edges.
Everyone Abigail’s father, Mr. Jackson, Robert—all stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. It was as if time had frozen in that exact second.
Abigail’s father blinked rapidly, unable to form words.
Mr. Jackson ‘s mouth fell open like he’d just seen a ghost pass through his living room.