UNDERVALUED SUPREMACY: INFLICTING MY OWN KARMA

CHAPTER 02. SOUR ANNIVERSARY

"Yes, I want you to take the blame for this case," Mr. Archer reiterated, speaking slowly and clearly to ensure Harry could understand.

"How?" Harry's face contorted with a puzzled expression, eyebrows raised, and a quizzical look as he observed everyone in the room. They all seemed to be in agreement with the plan.

"Harry, I know you've got this! Trust me, you can handle it," Diane praised insincerely, but he scoffed.

"You knew about this?"

His thoughts resembled a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, making it impossible for him to see the full picture. Trying to ask questions and seeking clarification would seem useless. He let out a deep sigh of frustration, feeling the weight of confusion pressing down on him.

"Harry, just listen to Dad's grand plan. You won't go to jail or face anything worse. You're the only one who can pull this off," she reassured him.

"Why? Grand plan?" Harry managed to inquire.

Diane rolled her eyes, clearly tired of Harry's questions. She had expected him to accept without protest.

"Harry, come on. You're not well-known, so the media won't care if you take responsibility. They won't dwell on the case any longer," she said, attempting to convince him.

She reached out to hold his arm, but he broke free.

Yes, she was right about Harry being relatively unknown, despite being married to the Great Archer's only daughter. He was somewhat popular in legal circles for being a skilled and principled attorney who never missed a case, but outside of that, few recognized him as Diane's husband. Only his close colleagues at the law firm knew that.

"At least I see one advantage of being a nobody," Mrs. Freya mocked, causing Harry to gulp. He winced, displaying a visible expression of pain on his face, struggling to accept the situation as Diane held his palms.

A warm, reassuring smile graced Diane's lips as she leaned in and placed a hand on his cheek, feigning affection. She gazed into his eyes, raising her hand to caress his cheek with a tender touch, attempting to convey love and care in that fleeting moment.

"You know my dad has a lot at stake," she said, her voice tinged with sorrow. "His political career, the firm, his companies, and the Archer Group as a whole. I believe these people are trying to frame him and bring him down. Babe, you can do this for our family. You can."

She continued to plead, her tone more empathetic, but Harry remained adamant, still trying to digest the sudden and unexpected situation before him.

"Frame him?" Harry groaned. "But we can use the surveillance camera to identify whoever did it. How is that framing?"

"Dumbass! The surveillance camera was undergoing maintenance during that period. Don't you dare bring that up and give the media something to feast on," Mrs. Freya scolded, her anger making her stand tall and erect, exuding a sense of power and dominance.

"This is the only opportunity to prove you're good enough," Diane whispered affectionately, as if she genuinely cared, nudging Harry, who remained stubborn.

For what felt like several minutes, the entire house fell into silence. Each person stole glances at Harry from the corners of their eyes. The room felt stifling, as if the walls were closing in on them. Mr. Damon paced back and forth, unable to stand still for even a moment.

He couldn't hold back any longer, and a sneer marred his features. "Damn it! So after everything I've done for you in your career as an attorney, you won't even do me this one favor?"

His frustration was evident in his voice as he continued, "If you don't want to do it, fine. I wonder why I thought you would be of any use to me! You're not even good enough for my daughter."

"I'll do it," Harry muttered, forcing Mr. Damon to come to a halt before entering the room.

A heavy silence fell upon the room, as if everyone held their breath in collective surprise, which indeed they did.

Mrs. Freya and her husband tasted a mix of confusion and wonder, their astonishment lingering on their tongues. Diane stood there, a smug smirk curling up her lips, satisfied with the turn of events.

"What?" Mr. Archer's voice brimmed with astonishment, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"I'll do it for the family," Harry reiterated, making his willingness clear despite his inner turmoil. He fought against his instincts and accepted to take the blame for the girl he knew nothing about, just to prove to his in-laws that he was good enough for Diane.

Happiness washed over Mr. Damon like a gentle wave, soothing his worries and fears. He couldn't spare a moment to think about how the media would portray the death and force the government to launch major investigations.

Seeing everyone's faces adorned with smiles, Harry forced a contented smile to play along with the fake gratitude that filled the room. Finally, he saw his in-laws smile about him, rather than cursing him out.

"Sir, what's your plan?" Harry asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Now I can finally consider you good enough for my prestigious daughter," Mrs. Freya remarked with a broad smile, and Harry rolled his eyes in disgust at her comment.

"You'll tell the media that the girl was your secret lover, someone you had been seeing behind your wife's back. She became pregnant, and you told her to have an abortion, but she refused. You were involved in her suicide," Mr. Archer explained.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, his brows furrowed as he fixed an intense gaze on Mr. Damon.

"Involved in her suicide?!" His voice rose in disbelief. "That's the same as saying I killed her."

"How can I say I was involved? It's murder! What if her family decides to press charges or take it further when I confess to this?" He dismissed the idea, his voice filled with concern.

"Can you stop yelling and listen to what he has to say? We have everything under control," Mrs. Archer cautioned him, snapping her fingers as if she were scolding a child.

"Dad, that's too much. How can he say he was involved in her suicide? The media might twist it to make it seem like he pushed her off the scaffold," Diane grumbled, voicing her objection.

"We're the Archers!" Mr. Damon chuckled lightly before continuing. "If they want to go down that route, then we'll handle it. They can't defeat us in that arena," he shrugged with pride.

"We have to make it as real and controversial as possible. That way, the media will shift its focus entirely from the Archers and feast on this story," he explained.

"But—"

"Diane, no 'buts.' This is the only way," Mr. Damon interrupted, faking grief.

"Dad, that wasn't what we agreed on! I'll be expecting an increase, then," Diane protested, smiling at her dad.

'Agreed on?' Harry bit his lip, trying to digest the news. His wife had betrayed him for some dollar bills. What kind of deal was she talking about?

"DIANE!" Mr. Archer scowled, forcing his daughter to comply with his words. Diane sighed disappointedly, giving in to her father's demands.

"Harry," Mr. Archer began. "Once you're arrested for aiding suicide, you'll be released within the next 48 hours. After your release, you'll be taken to South Africa, far away from here. There, you and your wife will start a new life, overseeing the Archer conglomerates in SA," he proposed gleefully.

"That's quite a favorable deal for a lowlife like you. You won't get such a great opportunity to elevate your life again," Mrs. Freya remarked, fixing her eyes on Harry, who was torn between right and wrong.

"In the next 48 hours, you'll be out to meet your wife. Once you are out, your flight will be ready. Trust me, Harry. You have my word," Mr. Archer reassured Harry with a smirk.

Harry felt a sense of satisfaction that his in-laws would finally see a way to believe in him or even appreciate him. After being married to their daughter for five years, all he had received was insults and criticism. Now they were giving him a chance to prove his worth, and he was willing to go the extra mile to seize it.

"Okay, sir, if you'll excuse me, I want to freshen up," he said, turning to leave, but his mother-in-law snapped at him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Come on, clean up this mess!"

"Make sure you wipe those tiles clean. You can't even afford them. Pick up those cheap roses, remove those tacky decorations," she ordered, pointing at the cake Diane had knocked to the floor. Harry sighed before quickly doing as he was told, then rushed up the stairs to his room.