CHAPTER 18

The guests looked at each other in confusion, then began to murmur and file out of the hall, one by one. The occasion, once joyful and celebratory, had descended into chaos and disorder.

"You're heartless, Adam!" Racheal spat, her eyes blazing with contempt. "You think this would break me? Make me beg? Trust me, I'd rather die than give you the satisfaction. You'll lose at your own twisted game!"

Stacey's voice cut through the chaos. "Time's up!" she announced, her eyes cold and detached.

Instantly, her men marched in, their movements swift and decisive. They grasped the Odias, dragging them out of the hall with firm hands.

"Hey! Don't touch me!" Mr. Luther protested, struggling against the grip.

"Let go of my arm!" Monica cried, trying to shake off the men.

"What are you doing? Who are you people? Let me go!" Rhea demanded, her voice rising in panic.

But the men were unyielding, their faces expressionless as they hauled the Odias out of the hall. The scene was one of utter chaos, with guests fleeing in all directions, congratulatory smiles replaced by shocked faces and frightened whispers.

As they emerged from the hall, they were met with a sight that made their blood run cold. A bulldozer was rampaging through the fleet of cars parked outside, crushing them with merciless efficiency. The sound of shattering glass and crumpling metal filled the air.

"Oh my God!" Monica screamed, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

The bulldozer continued its destruction, running over the cars again and again until they were nothing more than flattened wrecks. Mr. Luther's face turned red with rage as he clenched his fists, his eyes fixed on the ruins of his prized possessions. He had spent a small fortune on those cars, hoping to impress his in-laws, and now they were nothing but scrap metal.

"I warned you," Stacey said, her voice dripping with satisfaction, as she gestured towards the destruction.

Adam let out a frustrated sigh, once again Stacey had gone off script.

Mr. Penthouse's face turned beet red with rage as he pointed a shaking finger at Adam and Stacey. "I'll get you and your boss arrested! I'll lock you up if that's the last thing I do!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the air.

This was the most humiliating moment of his life, and he couldn't bear the thought of being bested by Adam and Stacey. Stacey, on the other hand, seemed to be reveling in the moment. "I'm going to enjoy this," she mocked, a sly smile spreading across her face.

She walked over to her jeep, pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne, and poured herself a glass. With a satisfied sip, she strolled over to Racheal.

"You messed with the wrong person, bitch!" Stacey hissed, flashing her eyes with malice . She raised the glass to her lips, pretending to take a sip, before deliberately pouring the champagne all over Racheal's pristine wedding gown. The liquid splashed across her dress, leaving a stain all over it.

“Hey!—” Racheal yelled.

"Oh, did I ruin your dress? I'm so sorry," Stacey cooed, with an insincere in her voice. She made a half-hearted attempt to clean the stain.

Drake's face turned red with anger. "What's wrong with you!" he barked, as he stepped forward, his fists clenched.

"That's not a problem, I'll get it clean," Stacey said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she walked over to her boot, where a drum of water was waiting. She opened the pipe, which had a spraying head, and aimed it directly at Racheal. With a malicious grin, she unleashed a powerful jet of water, soaking Racheal and completely ruining her dress.

"Oh no, Racheal—" Monica gasped.

"This is complete madness!" Mr. Penthouse bellowed, his face purple with rage.

"Somebody call the police!" Theresa screamed, her voice shrill with panic.

Stacey stopped spraying water only when she felt satisfied with the destruction she had caused. With onlookers outside laughing and snapping photos and videos. The whole debacle was already spreading like wildfire on social media, and the reputation of the influential Penthouse family and Odia family was in tatters, ruined by a single person's action