The Ultimate Doctor V’s Revenge

13. Kneel and beg

Xian leaned back, crossing his arms, a faint sneer playing on his lips—as if old habits refused to die.

Vincent noticed everything.

The way Xian avoided looking directly at him. The way his father studied him with thinly veiled impatience. The way none of them apologized.

Not yet.

Meng Jianhua cleared his throat. “President Vincent, thank you for agreeing to meet us.”

Vincent didn’t respond.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy.

“We believe there has been a misunderstanding,” Meng Jianhua continued. “Our company has suffered sudden setbacks—”

“Because I made it suffer,” Vincent said calmly.

Xian’s head snapped up. “You—”

Vincent’s eyes cut to him, sharp and cold. Xian fell silent instantly.

Vincent leaned forward slightly. “Let’s not pretend this is business fate. This is me.”

Meng Jianhua stiffened. “You’re being emotional.”

Vincent smiled faintly. “You raised a son who thought cruelty was entertainment. That’s emotional.” he said coldly.

Xian scoffed. “Don’t act like a victim now. You were nothing back then.”

The words echoed in the room.

Vincent rose slowly to his feet.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I was nothing. To you.”

He walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back.

“And yet,” he continued, “I was the top donor to that school. The name you admired on that golden board? Young Master Vee.”

Silence slammed into the room.

Xian’s eyes widened. His mother’s hand flew to her mouth. Meng Jianhua’s face drained of color.

“That… that’s impossible,” Xian whispered.

Vincent turned back, his gaze piercing. “You mocked the very man who paid for the halls you walked through.”

Xian swallowed hard.

Vincent stepped closer, his voice low but devastating. “You didn’t just bully me. You spat on my generosity. On my dignity.”

Then Vincent looked at Meng Jianhua. “You didn’t raise your son well.”

The words cut deeper than any insult.

Meng Jianhua’s jaw clenched. “What do you want?”

Vincent returned to his seat and sat down slowly.

“I want you to understand...” he said. “...that power isn’t loud.”

He folded his hands on the table.

“I can pull Meng Clothing out of the red,” Vincent said evenly. “Restore investors. Reopen credit lines.”

Hope flickered briefly in their eyes.

“But,” he continued, “there’s a condition.”

The room held its breath.

“You kneel,” Vincent said.

Xian stared at him, disbelief twisting his face. “What?”

“All of you,” Vincent repeated. “Here. Now.”

Meng Jianhua’s hands trembled. “This is humiliating.”

Vincent’s gaze hardened. “I was humiliated every single day at Jiade College by your son and his friends.”

The silence that stretched was unbearable.

Slowly, painfully, Meng Jianhua stood.

Then, with stiff movements, he lowered himself to his knees.

His wife followed, tears streaming silently down her face.

Xian hesitated.

His pride fought him but his fear crushed it.

Finally, he dropped to his knees too.

Vincent watched them without satisfaction, without joy.

Only cold clarity.

“Beg,” he said softly.

And they did.

When it was over, Vincent stood.

“I’ll consider my decision,” he said in an authoritative tone. “You may leave now.”