2025-01-12 18:51:15The room fell silent, the audacity of Alex’s words shocking even the Carter family’s closest allies.
Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his piercing gaze never leaving Alex.
"You’re proud of killing an innocent man?" Jack asked quietly.
Alex shrugged.
"Proud? No. Amused? Definitely. He was stupid enough to get in my way."
Jack stood, his movement measured but filled with purpose.
The room seemed to shrink as his presence loomed larger.
"A year ago, I was broken," he said, his voice low but powerful.
"I couldn’t protect Kyle, couldn’t fight back, couldn’t even defend myself against scum like you."
Alex smirked. "And now what? You think dragging a coffin into my father’s party makes you a threat? You’re still just a joke, Sullivan."
Jack took a step closer, his gaze locked on Alex.
"This isn’t just a coffin, Alex," he said. "It’s a declaration. For every injustice, there’s a reckoning. And tonight, it’s your son turn."
The room held its collective breath as Jack's words hung in the air, heavy with promise.
Alex, however, laughed—a sharp, mocking sound that broke the silence.
"A reckoning?" Alex sneered, stepping closer to Jack.
"Do you hear yourself, Sullivan? You’re just as delusional as ever. A coffin and some cryptic lines don’t make you a threat. They make you a clown."
Jack remained unfazed, his gaze steady.
"Clown," Alex repeated, gesturing grandly toward the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, meet Havenwood’s most pitiful fool. The man who couldn’t even protect his ‘loyal servant.’ Tell me, Jack, did Kyle cry before he died? Or was he too busy begging for mercy?"
Murmurs rippled through the room, some gasping at Alex’s audacity while others chuckled nervously.
Alex grabbed a nearby glass of amber liquor from a waiter’s tray and held it up.
"Since you’ve decided to crash my father’s party, let’s make it official. Drink this," he said, shoving the glass toward Jack’s chest.
"Show us you’ve got at least a shred of dignity left."
Jack didn’t move, his expression unreadable.
"What’s wrong?" Alex taunted, shaking the glass.
"Afraid it might be too strong for you? Or maybe you’re worried you’ll choke—just like you did a year ago when Kyle bit the dust?"
The crowd laughed, some more hesitantly than others.
Jack reached for the glass, and a hush fell over the room. Alex smirked, but his grin faded as Jack turned the glass upside down and slowly poured the liquor onto the floor.
The liquid pooled between them, glistening under the chandelier light.
Jack’s actions were deliberate, his movements slow and purposeful, drawing a visible line between himself and Alex.
The room erupted into whispers.
"He’s toasting the dead," someone murmured, their voice laced with shock.
Alex stared at the spilled liquor, his face darkening with rage.
"You think this is funny, Sullivan? You think you can disrespect me like this in my own house?"
Jack finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.
"This isn’t your house, Alex. It’s your father’s. And as for respect—you have to earn it, not demand it."
The words hit their mark.
Alex’s jaw tightened, and his knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists.
Before he could respond, Rick, one of Alex’s equally smug friends, stepped forward, laughing.
"Wow, Sullivan," Rick said, shaking his head.
"You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that. But let’s be honest—you’re just a washed-up nutcase playing soldier. The only battle you’ve ever won is against a mop."
Laughter broke out again, louder this time. Even Charles Carter chuckled, his disdain evident.
Jack remained motionless, but Matilda took a step forward, her piercing gaze locking onto Rick.
"You’ve said enough," she said coldly.
Rick snorted.
"And who the hell are you? His nanny? Go on, sweetheart, take him home before he embarrasses himself even more."
Without warning, Matilda moved.
In one fluid motion, she grabbed Rick by the collar, lifted him off the ground, and hurled him toward the open doors.
Rick landed with a loud thud outside the banquet hall, groaning in pain.
The room fell silent, stunned by Matilda’s sheer strength and swiftness.
"Anyone else want to try their luck?" Matilda asked, her voice icy and controlled.
Alex’s face turned a deep shade of red.
"You’re going to regret that," he hissed, turning to his father.
"Dad, are you just going to stand there and let this lunatic and his pet muscle insult us?"
Charles Carter stepped forward, his expression grim.
He glared at Jack, his voice laced with authority.
"I’ve tolerated enough of this nonsense. Guards, get this man out of here. Now."
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