THE SERVANT HUSBAND IS THE QUADRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter 11

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Every person in the room stared at Santiago Montenegro in complete bewilderment, their minds struggling to process what they'd just witnessed.

Isabella was the first to break the silence, her voice sharp with indignation. "Excuse me, Mr. Montenegro, but I think there's been some mistake here."

Montenegro's gaze shifted to her with the cold precision of a predator. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well," Isabella continued, emboldened by what she perceived as confusion, "you're obviously looking for someone important to invite upstairs. But this is just Michael Thompson—he's nobody special. He doesn't even have a job."

She gestured dismissively toward me. "If you're looking to honor someone from our family, surely it should be my mother, Elena Fletcher. She's the matriarch of one of the city's most respected families."

Grandmother Fletcher's eyes lit up with desperate hope. An invitation to the seventh floor would be the crowning achievement of her entire social climbing career. It would cement the Fletcher family's position among the city's true elite.

"My daughter is absolutely right," Grandmother Fletcher said, stepping forward with practiced grace. "I would be deeply honored to accept your invitation, Mr. Montenegro. Our families could discuss some mutually beneficial arrangements."

Montenegro's expression grew colder than arctic ice. Without warning, his hand shot out and delivered a sharp slap across Isabella's face that echoed through the entire banquet hall.

"How dare you question my judgment?" he snarled. "Apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson immediately."

Isabella staggered backward, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. "What? But I was just—"

"NOW!" Montenegro's voice boomed with such authority that several guests visibly flinched.

Isabella looked around desperately for support, her eyes finding Grandmother Fletcher. "Grandmother, please! Tell him about our family's business relationship with his company!"

Grandmother Fletcher stepped forward, her voice taking on a diplomatic tone. "Mr. Montenegro, surely we can discuss this reasonably. Our companies have been working together for several years now, and—"

"Were working together," Montenegro interrupted coldly. "Past tense."

"I... I don't understand."

"As of this moment, Montenegro Enterprises is terminating all business relationships with Fletcher Industries. Every contract, every deal, every future opportunity—cancelled."

The color drained from Grandmother Fletcher's face. "Mr. Montenegro, please reconsider. One rude comment from my granddaughter shouldn't—"

"It's not just one comment. It's the attitude your entire family has displayed tonight." His gaze swept across the table, taking in each family member's shocked expression. "The disrespect you've shown to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson is unforgivable."

Richard tried to intervene. "Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding. If you could just explain who these people are to you—"

"I don't owe you any explanations," Montenegro cut him off. "But I will give you one chance to salvage what little dignity you have left."

He turned to Isabella, who was still holding her cheek. "You will apologize to both Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. Loudly. Sincerely. Now."

Isabella looked around the room one more time, searching for an ally, but found only terrified faces.

"But they're nobody!" she protested weakly. "They don't deserve—"

CRACK!

This time it was Grandmother Fletcher who slapped her, the sound reverberating through the stunned silence.

"Apologize!" she hissed. "Do you want to destroy our entire family?"

Isabella's composure finally cracked. With tears streaming down her face, she turned toward Sarah and me.

"I... I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Louder," Montenegro commanded.

"I'm sorry!" she said, her voice breaking. "I apologize for disrespecting you!"

I looked at her tear-stained face, then at the panicked expressions of everyone else around the table. These were the same people who had spent years making my life miserable, who had just minutes ago been demanding Sarah's humiliation.

"I'm not satisfied," I said calmly.

Richard's face went red with anger. "Isabella, what are you waiting for? Apologize properly!"

"I'm sorry!" Isabella cried out, but I could see Montenegro wasn't impressed either.

"Show them the respect they deserve," Montenegro said with deadly quiet.

Isabella's hands shook as she raised them to her own face. SLAP! She hit herself across the cheek. "I'm sorry!"

SLAP! "I'm so sorry for disrespecting you!"

SLAP! "Please forgive me!"

Each slap grew harder as her desperation increased. The sound of her palm connecting with her own face filled the room, punctuated by her increasingly frantic apologies.

"I was wrong! I was completely wrong! Please, I'll do anything!"

The mighty Isabella Fletcher, who had spent years looking down on me like I was dirt beneath her shoes, was now slapping herself and begging for my forgiveness.

Sarah grabbed my arm, her face pale with shock. "Michael, this is enough."

I looked around the table one final time, taking in the terrified faces of the family that had treated us like servants for three years.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I think it is."