Chapter 8
This tender scene left everyone present utterly dumbfounded. Margot and her cronies stared in stunned silence, their
confidence shattered. Walton’s face was ashen, his lips trembling as he stammered,
“Th–this… this is impossible.”
My father, who had been observing everything with a steely gaze, finally spoke. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority. “Mr. Gries,” he began, fixing Walton with a sharp look,
“my daughter has been harassed in her own home by someone under your supervision. If word of this incident were to spread, it would tarnish our family’s reputation irreparably.”
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, “Today was supposed to be a joyous occasion–a celebration of my daughter’s birthday. I intended to introduce her formally to everyone, but
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instead, you allowed her to be humiliated and physically harmed. Are you trying to make a mockery of the Fitzgerald Family?”
Each word hit like a hammer and
Walton’s knees visibly wobbled under the weight of the accusations. He opened his mouth to respond but could only manage a few incoherent syllables. Behind him, several of the crew members appeared on the verge of fainting and a few even collapsed outright, unable to handle the sheer intensity of the situation.
As for Margot, she stood frozen in place, her face drained of all color. Her wide, terrified eyes darted toward me as I calmly walked up to her, the lion dog cradled in my arms. She shrank back as I drew closer, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the
words.
I didn’t give her a chance to speak. Without hesitation, I raised my hand and
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slapped her twice–once for each slap she’d given me earlier. The sharp cracks echoed in the stunned silence, leaving a burning redness on her cheeks.
“Margot,” I said coldly, my voice steady and unyielding, “you slapped me twice today, so I’m returning the favor. Feeling bold, aren’t you? Well, go on–keep showing off!”
I took a step closer, watching her shrink further. “You‘ ve always boasted about how connected you are, about how we were such good friends. Tell me, do you still think you‘ re worthy of claiming that? You believe that being a so–called ‘golden producer‘ gives you the right to control people’s lives at will? Isn’t that what you said? That crushing me would be as easy as stepping on an ant? Well, here I am, Margot. Show me your power now.”
Her confidence was gone, replaced by a pathetic display of trembling fear. She lowered her head, her voice barely audible
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as she stammered, “Miss Fitzgerald… I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were. Please, forgive me for my ignorance. I… I’ll make it right. I’ll return Kieran to you and I’ll compensate you however you see fit. Please, just let me go…”
Her groveling made me laugh–a bitter, disdainful laugh. “You‘ re not sorry for what you did, Margot,” I replied.
“You‘ re just afraid. If I weren‘ t the Fitzgerald heiress–if I were the ‘country bumpkin you accused me of being–you wouldn’t think twice about stepping on me, would you?” I asked, my voice cold and cutting.
“You‘ ve climbed your way up to a high position at Velvetline Entertainment, wielding a little power like it makes you some sort of god who can control the fate of others,” I continued, not giving Margot a chance to speak.
“I had someone dig into your past. Turns out you’ve done plenty of illegal and
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underhanded things over the years. And the most ironic part? You come from the very countryside you love to mock.”
Her face turned ashen, but I didn’t stop. “You sold yourself out to get to where you are, didn’t you? Slept your way into becoming Velvetline‘ s ‘golden producer.‘ Now you act like you‘ re the Midas of the entertainment industry, deciding who rises and who falls.”
“You‘ ve been sitting on that high horse for so long you‘ ve forgotten what it’s like to struggle at the bottom, haven’t you?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that there’s always someone stronger,
someone you can’t control. And now that you’ve finally met your match, you think groveling will save you? Too bad–it’s too late for that.”
Margot‘ s eyes filled with tears, but I turned away, unwilling to waste another second on her. She stumbled, looking
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desperately toward Walton. “Mr. Gries, back me up. Say something!” she pleaded.
“If I go down, I’ll take you with me. I know all your secrets and I won’t hesitate to expose everything!”
Walton, drenched in cold sweat, snarled back at her, “You vile woman! Don’t drag me into your mess. It’s your own fault for disrespecting Miss Fitzgerald and trying to harm her dog. I should never have let you into this company in the first place.”
