They Mocked The Wrong Man

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Marcus dragged his gaze across the sea of faces staring back at him, waiting for someone, anyone, to believe the words that had just left his mouth.

"How can you fire someone that owns this place?"

The silence lasted exactly three seconds before Derek's laughter shattered it. Sharp, cruel, and loud enough to echo down the corridor.

"Own this place?" Derek doubled over, gripping his stomach like Marcus had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "You? YOU own Langford Technologies?"

Mark and David joined in, their laughter mixing with Derek's until it became a chorus. The crowd picked it up, rippling through the hallway like a disease. Some laughed nervously, others openly, but they all laughed.

"He's lost his mind," someone whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The betrayal broke him," another voice added.

"This is just sad," a third one chimed in.

Marcus's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He'd expected this. Expected the disbelief, the mockery, the doubt. What he hadn't expected was the figure that stepped forward from the crowd.

Jessica.

Her face was soft with concern, not belief. Not even a hint of it. She looked at him the way someone might look at a wounded animal, like she wanted to help but didn't know how.

"Marcus," she said gently, her voice cutting through the laughter. "Stop this. You're just hurting yourself."

The laughter died down, people wanting to hear what she had to say.

"I know Derek's been terrible to you. I know he deserves to be called out." She glanced at Derek, then back at Marcus. "But making up stories won't help. You're trying to get back at him, I understand, but this isn't the way."

She turned to Derek, her expression hardening. "Just leave him alone. He's been through enough."

Derek's smirk widened. He didn't say a word, just stood there soaking in the moment like it was sunshine.

Marcus felt something crack inside his chest. Not anger. Not even disappointment. Just a quiet, cold acceptance.

Even her.

Even the one person who'd shown him kindness didn't believe him.

The crowd murmured in agreement with Jessica. A few nodded. Someone said, "Yeah, man, just let it go." Another voice: "It's over, Marcus."

Marcus looked at Jessica for a long moment, then let his gaze drift across the faces around him. Strangers. Coworkers. People he'd worked beside for years who didn't know him at all.

He took a breath, steadied himself, and spoke.

"It's your cup of tea to believe or not."

His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he'd already made peace with their disbelief and didn't need their validation.

He turned his back on the crowd and started walking.

Derek's smirk stretched into a full grin. He glanced at Mark and David, who were already whispering to each other. "That was pathetic," one of them muttered.

The crowd began to disperse. The show was over. Nothing left to see.

Jessica stood frozen, watching Marcus's retreating figure. Something about the way he walked didn't sit right with her. No anger. No shame. Just quiet, unshakable certainty.

Marcus took three more steps before a hand clamped down on his shoulder like a vice.

He was yanked backward, spun around with enough force to make him stumble.

Derek's face was inches from his, twisted with rage and something else. Triumph.

"Have you lost your mind, Marcus?"

The crowd stopped. Turned. Phones came back out.

Derek's grip tightened, fingers digging into Marcus's shoulder hard enough to bruise. His breath was hot, sour, furious.

"Seems you've grown some balls overnight."

He leaned in closer, invading every inch of Marcus's space.

"Did you really think you could embarrass me? Make up lies about owning this company? Walk away like you have dignity?"

Mark and David moved in, flanking Derek like bodyguards. The corridor was silent again, but this time it was charged. Dangerous.

"Derek, let him go!" Jessica's voice cut through the tension, but Derek didn't even glance her way.

Marcus stood perfectly still. Didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. His eyes locked onto Derek's with a calm that felt wrong, unnatural for someone in his position.

Derek released his shoulder and stepped back, but only to make room.

"You need to be put back in your place."

His hand came up fast, arcing toward Marcus's face in a wide, open palmed swing meant to humiliate, not just hurt.

The slap never landed.

Marcus's hand shot up and caught Derek's wrist mid swing. The impact echoed with a dull smack of skin on skin.

Derek's eyes went wide.

The crowd gasped.

Marcus's grip tightened, his fingers like iron around Derek's wrist. Derek tried to pull free. Couldn't. His face twisted in pain as Marcus's hand squeezed harder.

Then Marcus tossed Derek's hand back at him with enough force to send him stumbling backward.

Derek caught himself against the wall, staring at his reddened wrist like it belonged to someone else.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Mark and David stood frozen, mouths hanging open. The crowd was a wall of wide eyes and held breaths. Phones trembled in hands that had forgotten to record.

Marcus, the doormat, the punching bag, the man who took every insult without a word, had just fought back.

Derek's shock lasted three seconds before it twisted into something darker. His face flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples. His breathing came in short, ragged bursts.

"You... you DARED to touch me?"

His voice was shaking. Not with fear. With humiliation.

He looked around at the crowd, saw their faces, saw the shock and the pity and the disbelief. They'd witnessed it. Witnessed him being overpowered by Marcus Hayes.

His jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth might crack.

He needed to destroy him. Needed to crush whatever spark of defiance Marcus had found. Needed everyone to see Marcus broken, begging, bleeding if necessary.

His eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Jessica.

A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

"Let's see how you protect your little crush."

Jessica's eyes widened as Derek pivoted toward her, his hand already rising.

The crowd screamed.

"No!"

"Stop!"

Derek's hand swung toward her face in a vicious arc, faster than before, meaner.

Marcus moved like lightning.

His hand caught Derek's wrist inches from Jessica's cheek. The grip was tighter this time, harder. Derek cried out, a sharp, involuntary yelp of pain.

But Marcus didn't just stop him.

He yanked Derek off balance, spun him around like a rag doll.

And then his hand came down.

CRACK.

The slap echoed through the corridor like a gunshot.

Derek's head snapped to the side. He staggered, crashed into the wall, and slid halfway down before catching himself.

The silence that followed wasn't just quiet.

It was absolute.

Nobody breathed. Nobody blinked. The world had stopped turning.

Derek's hand slowly rose to his cheek, trembling as it touched the red handprint already forming there.

Marcus stood over him, his hand still raised, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

Jessica was behind him, frozen, her hand over her mouth.

The crowd stared, phones finally remembering to record, capturing every second of the impossible.

Marcus Hayes had just slapped Derek.

And the shock waves of that single moment rippled through every person in that hallway, shattering everything they thought they knew.