Jack Hardy The Legacy Returns

008 Little Brat

Juliet’s cheeks flushed at the insults but she held her ground. "Jack can fight, and has proven useful to me twice already, so I have decided to keep him around for now. Anyway, I’ll change and be back soon with the contract. Just behave.”

As she walked away, Lydia shot Jack one last withering look and followed her daughter inside, muttering about him being gold-digging trash.

Cathy stayed behind, circling the athletic man like a shark. “You really think you belong here? What are your education levels?"

"I have three masters degrees, and five doctorates."

The girl scoffed and then laughed aloud. "So you're delusional too? Couldn't you hold back on the petty lies? I'm pretty sure you're some low-life labor guy who fixes cars in a garage for a living. Do you plan to mooch off the Forbes name and wealth? Disgusting!”

Jack ignored her, strolling to the outdoor bar. He grabbed a glass, filled it with ice from the bucket, and poured in fresh lemonade from the pitcher. He took a long sip and dropped onto one of the loungers, stretching his long legs with a happy sigh. “Ahhh. Perfect.”

Cathy’s face twisted in fury but she remembered her sister's warning. "Enjoy it while it lasts, bum. Juliet will kick you out once she's bored."

She stormed off towards the garage. “I’m taking my new million-dollar car for a test drive. Maybe I’ll run over someone like you on the way.”

Minutes later, the roar of a sleek red Porsche echoed as Cathy drove it out of the garage. She floored it, and the engine screamed, taking off faster than expected within seconds.

Cathy took a sharp turn too fast and her grip slipped on the wheel. The car veered wildly off the path, heading straight for a group of gardeners and their family.

The Forbes daughter panicked, slamming the brakes, but the vehicle only skid faster on the wet grass, hurtling forward towards the innocents. She let out a scream.

Jack appeared before Cathy's car from nowhere. In one fluid motion, he planted his feet, and slammed his open palm against the hood. The vehicle stopped dead with a deafening screech of rubber and metal as the accident airbag inflated.

Smoke rose from the destroyed Porsche. One of the alloy wheels rolled out with a metallic clang, and the car died with a defeated hiss.

Cathy exploded out of the driver’s seat, her face purple with rage. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much this Porsche costs? My father just bought it for me! You couldn’t pay for the repairs if you worked as a laborer for the rest of your pathetic life!”

Jack had had enough of her. He grabbed her pigtails, tilting her head back so she had to look him in the eye.

"You little brat! Do you have any value for human life? What if you had hit those gardeners? Not only would those kids be dead, but you’d be spending the rest of your life in prison!”

Cathy yanked herself free, her cheeks burning in humiliation. “Everything is your fault! You distracted me! This never would have happened if you hadn't barged into our home—”

Jack patted his belly with a lazy grin, cutting her off. "I’m hungry. How many times should I save the day? But it sure does work up an appetite."

He turned and strolled out through the back gate without another word, whistling softly to himself. Cathy stood there fuming, her fists clenched.

Minutes later Juliet returned to the garden, fresh in a simple silk blouse and slacks, as if to impress Jack. She had the contract folder in her hand. She frowned at the empty garden. “Cathy, where’s Jack?”

The little sister crossed her arms, her eyes gleaming with spite. “Oh, that guy? He finally realized how pathetic he is. The dogs, contract, and our wealth really scared him, and he ran off like a coward. Good riddance. Hmph!”

Juliet’s stomach dropped. She stared at her sister, her mind racing. This can’t be true. Jack might be an asshole with his perverted gaze and incessant teasing, but he had given her his word. The hero who rescued her twice wouldn’t just abandon her.

Juliet's fingers tightened on the unsigned contract. “He wouldn’t…”