PAYBACK Of Johnson Lancaster

Chapter 2: Manufactured Scandal

The morning light cut across the living room carpet, but it brought no peace to the heavy atmosphere inside the June household.

Johnson was quietly by the kitchen counter, wiping down the surface with a clean cloth while a dull, lingering ache throbbed deep behind his ribs.

A few minutes earlier, his phone had buzzed softly in his pocket with a coded message from his legal team, confirming that the initial corporate pressures were slowly squeezing Vax Company's liquidity just as planned.

Yet, despite his secret growing power and control, the emotional weight of living among such cold, ungrateful people felt like a physical burden, reminding him that he was enduring a house full of vipers.

Heavy, confident footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the kitchen entrance grew dark.

Haven Tyler walked in with a huge, proud grin stretched across his face. He wore a sharp blue suit, looking like a king who had won a war without losing a single soldier.

Right behind him walked Isabella. Her eyes were bright with a nasty, greedy joy that she didn't even try to hide.

"Stop cleaning that counter, you lazy pig," Isabella snapped, her voice sharp and loud. "Put the rag down right now. We have guests coming over soon, and I don't want you standing around looking like a stray monkey in our home."

Johnson turned around slowly and set the cloth down on the edge of the stone. His eyes stayed steady, but his jaw tightened hard as a fresh wave of exhaustion hit him.

Even though he knew what they were, even when he was using them for his own long-term game, the endless abuse still stung like an open wound.

It hurt to realize that no matter how much grace or patience he showed, they were incapable of seeing him as anything other than an obstacle to crush.

"Really? I'm a pig to you?" Johnson asked, his voice low, unbothered on the surface, hiding the pain dreading against his chest.

Haven let out a loud, mocking laugh, reaching into his jacket and tossing a thick brown manila envelope right onto the center of the kitchen table.

The file slid across the smooth stone and hit the edge near Johnson’s hand with a dull thud.

"Open it up, beggar," Haven sneered, stepping closer and puffing out his chest to look as big and intimidating as possible. "See what happens when a useless nobody tries to play in a world he doesn't belong in. Your little time living under this roof is officially finished."

Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, a wide, triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"I told you months ago that your days were numbered," Isabella spat, glaring down at the file with pure contempt. "For a long time, I actually wondered how I was going to get rid of you without getting dragged into a messy legal battle. But you made it so easy for me. You just handed me the best excuse in the world on a silver platter."

Johnson reached down calmly. His fingers slid under the flap of the envelope, and he pulled out a small stack of glossy photographs.

The pictures showed a dimly lit hotel room. A man who looked a bit like Johnson from behind was hugging an unknown woman whose face was turned away from the camera.

The pictures looked clumsy, the lighting was amateurish, and anyone with half a brain could tell the whole thing was completely staged.

Yet, to Isabella and Haven, these photos were like winning the lottery.

Instead of feeling angry or letting them see his frustration, Johnson watched them with cold clarity. Isabella’s face lit up with wild, happy excitement.

She threw her head back and laughed out loud, treating the fake scandal like the greatest news she had ever heard in her life.

"Finally!" Isabella shrieked, clapping her hands together like an excited kid opening a birthday present. "A real, easy reason to get a clean divorce! You’re cheating trash, Johnson! You couldn't even stay loyal while living off my hard work! I’m taking these photos straight to my lawyer this very morning!"

Mrs. Rice rushed into the kitchen just in time to hear the news, her face lighting up with mean, ugly delight.

"I always knew he had no shame!" Mrs. Rice cackled, pointing a crooked, nasty finger right at Johnson. "A filthy, ungrateful cheat! Throw him out on the street right now, Isabella! Don't let him take a single shirt with him! Let him freeze outside!"

They looked so happy and proud of themselves, basking in what they thought was their triumph.

They truly believed they had outsmarted him. They thought these fake pictures were a killer weapon that would kick him out into the cold with nothing, destroying his life in one clean sweep.

What they didn't know, what their blind pride kept them from seeing, was that Johnson actually wanted this outcome.

For months, he had stayed in this fake marriage just to observe them, testing how far human greed could stretch. Now, by choosing to dump him over a fake scandal, they were also handing him his freedom on a silver platter.

It cut all legal ties cleanly, freeing him up to walk away without ever having to deal with their toxic noise again.

He didn't wear a face like a loser. He looked like a man watching three fools dig their own graves.

"You look awfully quiet, pig," Haven mocked, leaning in close and lowering his voice into a nasty whisper meant to strike fear into his heart.

"Are you too embarrassed to even speak? Let me make something crystal clear to you. If you try to fight this divorce, or if you ask for a single penny of money, I will make sure you end up beaten up and living in a dirty alley by tomorrow night. Do you understand me?"

Johnson looked straight into Haven's proud, flashing eyes. A knowing smile clung to his left lip.

Instead of looking scared or shrinking back, Johnson stood a little taller, his quiet confidence making Haven's eyes narrow in sudden confusion.

"You really should look closer at the game you're playing, Haven," Johnson said softly, his voice so calm and level that it sent a weird, unexpected chill down Haven's back. "Enjoy your little wins while you can. People who climb too high usually take a very hard fall."

Haven’s smile blinked for a second, replaced by a flash of annoyance. But his massive ego quickly pushed the bad feeling away, and he scoffed, shoving the edge of the table hard.

"Still talking big, you delusional fool," Haven sneered, shaking his head in disgust. "Sign the papers by noon, or deal with the pain. Come on, Isabella. Let's leave this imposter in the dirt where he belongs."

Isabella didn't bother looking back at her husband for another second. She linked her arm tightly through Haven's, her face glowing with victory as they turned and walked out of the kitchen, their happy, ringing laughter echoing down the hallway.

For the second time within forty-eight hours, Mrs. Rice spat a glob of saliva onto the floor and waddled after them, leaving Johnson muffling the pain stuck in his heart.

Johnson looked down at the fake pictures scattered across the counter. A deep breath filled his lungs, clearing away the last traces of bitterness. He picked them up slowly, dropped them straight into the trash can, and pulled out his phone.

He typed a simple, quiet text to his legal team:

[Proceed with the paperwork. Let them have their day]

He locked the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. But he wasn't done yet. If he simply walked out the front door today, Haven and Isabella would still control the narrative, painting him as a coward who fled in disgrace.

To set up the next phase of his chess game, and to give them the ultimate rope to hang themselves with, he needed to leave on their terms, in the most dramatic way possible.

An hour later, as Isabella and Haven stood near the upper-floor staircase entertaining a few arriving guests, Johnson walked out of the hallway with a small bag of his belongings.

"Look, the parasite is finally crawling away," Isabella announced loudly, pointing a finger at him from the top of the stairs so all the guests could hear. "Get out of my house before I call security to throw you down these steps!"

Haven stepped forward, his face twisted with arrogant fury. He strode over and gave Johnson a violent, heavy shove right against the shoulder, sneering, "Get moving, monkey!"

Instead of fighting back or bracing his weight, Johnson let his body go loose. With a calculated, controlled motion, he allowed the momentum of Haven's shove to carry him backward toward the edge of the open staircase.

The sudden movement caught everyone off guard.

Johnson tumbled backward down the flight of hardwood steps, his body hitting the risers with a heavy, dramatic thud before coming to a violent stop at the bottom landing.

A collective gasp echoed through the foyer. Isabella screamed in mock shock, covering her mouth, while Haven stood at the top of the stairs, blinking in surprise at how easily his shove had sent the man flying.

Johnson lay motionless at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch.

His body ached from the controlled fall, but his mind was ice-cold. He could hear Isabella whispering angrily to the guests that he was faking it for attention, while Haven laughed nervously, trying to brush off the violence of his own push.

Within minutes, an ambulance, quietly coordinated by Johnson's hidden legal proxies on standby, pulled up outside the residence.

Emergency medics rushed in, checked him over according to pre-arranged instructions, and immediately strapped him onto a stretcher, declaring a severe spinal shock requiring urgent hospital care.

As they wheeled him out the front doors toward the ambulance, Mrs. Rice, Isabella, and Haven stood on the porch, shouting insults and waving the unsigned divorce papers like a trophy.

"Don't you dare come back!" Isabella shrieked into the afternoon air. "Sign those papers at the hospital, or we'll make sure you rot!"

Johnson lay flat on the stretcher, staring up at the roof of the vehicle as the doors slammed shut.

A quiet, razor-sharp smile clung to his lips as he watched them celebrate their premature victory.