I wrenched my hand out of his grip and screamed,
"Don't pretend you care. You think I don't know you're behind all of this?!"
"Clay, my father never forced Priscilla into anything. She chose it!"
"He's the one who saw your potential, who gave you everything. Is this how you repay him?!"
I had called it out, and not a flicker of guilt crossed his face.
He let out a soft scoff.
"That's exactly why I didn't dirty my own hands. Compared to your father stealing Priscilla away from me back then, I've been generous."
"You're his daughter. Of course you'd defend him. But I trust Priscilla. She wouldn't lie to me."
"Now that you know, Margery, you should know what to do."
Clay raised his phone and, without a moment's hesitation, sent three hundred tips into the stream.
On screen, the man let out a thrilled shriek.
"Holy crap, thank you to this champion of justice! Only a hundred to go. Come on, people, push a little harder!"
"Every second you hesitate is mercy this old animal doesn't deserve!"
My fist clenched. He'd actually go this far.
I dragged in a breath.
"Fine. I'll apologize to Priscilla."
But Clay only shook his head.
"Priscilla has a kind heart. She knows your pride is fragile, so forget the apology."
"Just sign over the fifteen percent of shares your father left you. Give them to her as your apology. That's all."
I stared at him, unable to believe it.
"Clay, that's the last thing my father left me."
He gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Silly girl. With me to take care of you, what use do you have for any of that?"
"Your father robbed Priscilla of five years of her youth. Think of it as her compensation. You love me so much. You won't disappoint me, will you?"
His tone was as gentle as ever.
And yet all I could hear was the cold beneath it.
In the livestream, they were fifty tips short of five hundred.
Clay lifted his phone again, fingertip hovering lightly over the send button.
"Margery, Priscilla's still waiting for me. I can only give you three seconds."
"Three."
"Two."
My nails dug into my flesh until threads of blood seeped out.
"Fine. I agree!"
Satisfied, Clay made a call, shut down the man's livestream, and pulled every trending topic offline.
At the same time, he had his bodyguards drive away the crowd raising hell at the cemetery.
Watching me sign the contract, he pinched my cheek.
"This is what I love about you, Margery. Sweet and obedient."
"See? Now there's no one left for you to lean on but me. You'll stay this good from now on, won't you? I'll take good care of you in your father's place."
"Friday, the courthouse registry office. Be there to take photos for me and Priscilla. Don't be late, and I promise you a grand wedding at the end of the month."
After Clay left, I stumbled to my father's headstone.
I tried to scrub the paint off his photo with my sleeve.
But the crowd had come back, shovels in their hands.
