Chapter 981:
“It was Jett who started it,” Alana declared, her voice steady. “He mocked and insulted these three ladies right from the start. And Mrs. Lopez only made it worse—calling them ‘hillbillies’ and saying they reeked of poverty.”
Alana gathered her courage, swallowing hard before continuing. “Jett and Mrs. Lopez insulted these ladies first, tossing around ugly names and putting them down. All they wanted was a simple apology, but instead, Jett and Mrs. Lopez twisted the facts in front of you, Mr. Scott. They shifted the blame onto the victims and demanded punishment for something they didn’t do. I’m telling the truth. If you find any part of my story false, I’ll accept any consequence. I just want these ladies to get the fairness they deserve.
Alana didn’t get to finish. Jaida’s hand shot out, aiming a slap straight for Alana’s cheek.
“Enough from you! Someone needs to remind you of your place!” Jaida snapped.
Instinct took over—Alana recoiled, but before the blow could land, Christina intercepted Jaida’s wrist, stopping her mid-swing.
Breathless, Alana whispered, “Thank you.” Without that quick save, Jaida’s slap would have left more than just a sting.
“Let me go!” Jaida exclaimed, her anger flaring.
Christina’s eyes narrowed with icy resolve as she shoved Jaida’s hand away, sending her stumbling backward. Jaida nearly lost her footing, only managing to stay upright with the help of Brad and Jett, who rushed to steady her.
“How dare you touch me, you little slut!” Jaida snarled, her face flushed with outrage. Furious, she lunged at Christina, arm swinging high, ready to land a slap in retaliation.
“Smack!” The sharp crack of a slap rang out—Christina’s hand connecting hard with Jaida’s cheek.
“I not only dared to push you, but I dared to slap you too,” Christina said coolly, holding Jaida’s wrist in a vice.
𝗧𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 g⍺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀﹐ⅽ𝗼𝗺
Jaida’s composure shattered. “How dare you lay a hand on me? My husband runs the Lopez Group—you must have a death wish!” she screamed, all pretense gone.
Brad and Jett lunged to her rescue, but Christina didn’t hesitate—one swift kick each sent them sprawling to the floor.
Jaida’s face twisted in disbelief and rage. “Unbelievable! You pull this in front of Mr. Scott? Are you out of your mind? You must not have the slightest respect for him!”
“You think I hold no respect for Mr. Scott, and I won’t argue with that,” Christina remarked with startling ease, as though she were simply commenting on the weather.
The crowd gasped in unison, their collective breath taken away in disbelief. This woman dared to utter such words right before Dylan himself? Who on earth was she? Or was this nothing more than a daring ploy, an attempt to snare Dylan’s attention with reckless bravado?
“Mr. Scott, she has just confessed to her bold insolence,” Jaida declared in a tone that feigned humility. “She does not veil her disrespect for you.”
Dylan’s face remained a mask of stone, betraying nothing—his expression like a sealed book that none could read. In truth, he hardly cared whether Christina respected him or not. If her heart found joy, then nothing else weighed on him.
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