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2025-03-17 23:56:43

121

The tension in the restaurant was thick, the air heavy with judgmental murmurs and scandalized whispers. Jane, still clutching her burning cheek, let out a sharp laugh, though there was nothing humorous about it. Her eyes, gleaming with fury, locked onto Olivia’s with an almost predatory glare.

“You really think you’ve won something here, Olivia?” she hissed, voice dripping with venom. “You’re pathetic. A desperate little fool playing the hero in a story where no one even asked for you.”

Olivia’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, she looked even more determined. “I’d rather be a fool than a coward who hides behind insults and manipulation.”

Jane’s nostrils flared. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Olivia shot back. “I know you’ve spent years treating people like toys, like they’re disposable. You push and push until they break, just so you can feel powerful. But you’re done, Jane. People see through you now.”

Bobby, who had been standing off to the side, vis

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he silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until the sharp click of heels broke it. Every head turned. A woman in a sleek black dress stepped out from the shadows near the bar, her presence commanding in a way that made even Dylan’s exit feel incomplete.Her crimson lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.“Well,” she said, voice smooth as silk yet barbed with venom, “that was… entertaining.”The bartender stiffened. “Madam…” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry.She ignored him, her gaze settling on the man still crumpled on the floor. She tilted her head, studying him like one might examine a broken tool.“You’ve embarrassed us tonight,” she murmured. “I warned you to keep your vices hidden. But now…” Her smile sharpened. “…now the wrong man knows.”Gasps rippled through the room. Wrong man?The broken man whimpered, his voice cracking. “P-please… I didn’t mean—”Her hand shot up, silencing him instantly. She didn’t raise her voice, but the weight of her authority was
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The third slap landed with a sickening snap, echoing across the room like a warning bell. The man’s knees buckled entirely this time, and he crumpled forward, his forehead hitting the polished floor with a soft thud. A trickle of blood ran freely now from the split corner of his lip, mixing with the sweat beading on his temples. He gasped, shivering violently, completely undone.Dylan didn’t pause. He stood over him, tall and unwavering, the shadow of authority pressing down on everyone present. His voice, low and deliberate, cut through the murmurs like a blade.“You had your chance,” Dylan said, pacing slowly around the man as if circling prey. “Your lies. Your cruelty. Your arrogance. And yet you thought you could hide behind the faces of others. But masks always slip, don’t they?”The man tried to raise his head, to plead again, but Dylan’s gaze alone held him frozen. His arms hung limp at his sides, as if the will to resist had been crushed entirely.“You hurt someone who had no
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The man by the pillar swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as if every word he wanted to force out turned to stone in his mouth. His pride clashed with his fear. His fingers clenched against his thighs, nails biting into his skin.“I…” he croaked, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”The bartender stiffened, blinking rapidly. His lips parted, but no sound came out. It was almost too surreal.Dylan’s eyes narrowed. He raised his chin slightly, the movement deceptively lazy but steeped in authority. “Too soft. Say it again. With your chest. Let them all hear who you bow to when your mask cracks.”The man’s face burned red. A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, but when Dylan tilted his head in that sharp, mocking way again, he caved.“I’M SORRY!” he shouted, the words tumbling out raw and ugly. His voice carried across the room, echoing off the walls. “I was wrong. I mocked without knowing. I–I shouldn’t have said it!”The bartender flinched, looking down at the counter, shame and discomf
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The room froze. The bow was not deep, but it was sharp, precise, and undeniable.The same people who had been laughing seconds ago now stared in stunned silence. The sound of a glass being set down too hard at the bar echoed like a gunshot.The man near the pillar shifted his weight, his face draining of color. “W–wait,” he stammered, his earlier confidence cracking. “You… you can’t be serious. He’s just—”“Enough,” the manager cut him off without even glancing his way. His voice carried the weight of authority, calm but absolute. “Mr. Grenville is not to be questioned.”The young bartender, who had whispered earlier, felt his throat close. His hands shook as he tried to polish a glass, but the cloth slipped from his fingers. He dared not meet Dylan’s eyes.Dylan finally slid his phone back into his pocket, his smirk widening just slightly. He didn’t look at the crowd, only at the man still bent before him. “Good,” he said quietly, as if the single word settled everything.The manager
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The tension in the room had barely begun to settle when a new layer of mockery surfaced.A man in a dark blazer, arms crossed, leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with disdain. “Oh, look at him,” he said with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Grenville this, Grenville that. If you’re so important, why don’t you prove it? Or is this just all smoke and mirrors?”A few others around him chuckled, emboldened by his words.Dylan’s eyes flicked toward him lazily, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk that was all predator. “Smoke and mirrors, you say?” His voice was soft, slow, deliberate. “Funny. I’ve never met a man so confident in his ignorance.”A young bartender, who had been trying to remain unnoticed by the drama, finally whispered under his breath, “Yeah, big talk for someone who just walks in and stares at us like he owns the place.”Dylan’s head snapped toward him, sharper than anyone could have expected. “Walks in? I glide in,” he corrected, his tone slic
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The words hit the lobby like a dropped glass. Conversations stuttered, laughter faltered, and even the clink of glasses from the bar seemed to still.The older receptionist blinked, her lips parting as if she wanted to retort but couldn’t find the words. Dylan’s gaze stayed on her, sharp and unwavering.“Tell me,” Dylan drawled, straightening and letting his hands rest lightly on the counter, “do you really believe a clipboard and a checklist give you more power than me? That a pen stroke decides who belongs here?” He let out a quiet chuckle, slow and mocking. “Adorable.”The tall man near the pillar scoffed, pushing off it with his shoulder. “Big words for someone who can’t even walk in without stuttering at reception.”Dylan’s head turned lazily toward him, eyes narrowing with the faintest glimmer of amusement. “Stuttering?” His smirk deepened. “You must be mistaking me for yourself, since the only thing I’ve heard from your mouth so far is the nervous laugh of a man desperate to be

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