Chapter 982:
“Mr. Scott, her arrogance is unbearable,” Jett interjected, seizing the moment. “You cannot let her escape unpunished.”
Humiliated by Christina’s brutal kick before so many witnesses, Jett burned with a thirst for retribution.
For Brad, being struck down by a woman was not simply painful—it was a blow to his pride. Such an insult was too bitter to swallow. He straightened himself, speaking with forced deference. “Mr. Scott, if she goes unpunished, it might encourage more people to act arrogantly in front of you. How then will you keep your authority intact?”
“Do I need you to teach me how to rule?” Dylan’s voice cut through the air like a whip, leaving Brad tongue-tied and drenched in nervous sweat.
Jett and Jaida clamped their lips shut—one wrong word might fan the flames of Dylan’s wrath.
“On the surface, I may not respect Mr. Scott,” Christina said sweetly, her voice dripping with deliberate charm. “But I do keep him in my heart.” Her lips curved into a smile.
At that, Dylan’s heart stumbled in its rhythm; even his lashes fluttered. A smile threatened his composure, tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew all too well she was playing a part for the crowd’s sake. Yet, against all reason, her words warmed him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He cherished such tender phrases—if only she would utter them more often.
Jaida and the others were dumbstruck, floored by Christina’s sudden change in tone. She was openly trying to bewitch Dylan! But everyone knew his disdain for women who attempted seduction. This time, surely, she had sealed her own doom—no miracle would intervene.
Jett, Brad, and Jaida exchanged smug glances, already anticipating Christina’s downfall.
𝓞𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓮 → 𝓰ⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀﹒𝓬𝓸𝓶
“Mr. Scott, don’t be fooled. They do not truly respect you, despite their words,” Christina said softly, with a deliberate hint of coyness in her voice. “What they parade as respect is nothing more than a painted mask. Beneath it lies dissatisfaction they dare not voice.”
Behind Christina, Chloe and Eloise shared a knowing glance, stifling their laughter.
Jaida’s knees weakened, her complexion turning ashen. “Mr. Scott! That’s not true. I never—”
Jaida bit back her fury, her teeth grinding. How she longed to lash out at Christina. That annoying vixen! Wasn’t Dylan supposed to loathe women like her? Why was this woman not facing any consequences?
“I am not dissatisfied! On the contrary, I am utterly convinced and full of admiration,” Brad hastily said, his sweat dripping like rain.
“Mr. Scott, I have always esteemed you with the highest regard, without a trace of complaint,” Jett chimed in, though unease gnawed at his heart. Deep inside, dissatisfaction festered. Why was fate so cruelly uneven? Why were others born to wealth, while he had nothing? If he had come from the Scott bloodline, he would have eclipsed Dylan with ease. In his eyes, Dylan was merely fortunate—privileged by birth, not brilliance.
“For the sake of INQ’s honor, Mr. Scott, I suggest reviewing the surveillance footage. It would clear our names and root out the true troublemakers,” Christina proposed with a gentle smile.
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