Tabitha's POV
My father had once served in the military. Later, after he became wealthy, he donated heavily to national projects.
Today, many of his old comrades-in-arms, as well as officials from Brighton, were waiting at the cemetery to see him off for the last time.
If word of this incident got out, the Tomlinsons could forget about holding their heads high in Highland ever again.
I took a deep breath, my voice turning cold. “I don’t care what you are to Terence. Today is my father’s funeral. The dead take precedence. Move your cars, or don’t blame me for what happens next.”
But Jacqueline only gave a short, mocking laugh. “Oh? I’d like to see what you think you can do to me.”
At her signal, five bodyguards in black suits stepped out from her motorcade.
I let out a humorless chuckle. So, this was all planned in advance.
A few of the older funeral workers muttered in outrage, “This is nothing but troublemaking!”
Still holding my father’s portrait, I stepped forward alone.
The lead bodyguard lunged, aiming a hard punch at my side. Yet I didn’t move my feet, just shifted my torso back a few inches so his fist cut through the air in front of me. Then I pivoted and drove a sharp kick straight into his face.
Seeing their leader fly backward, the other four froze for a second, glancing at each other.
The man on the ground glared at me, then at the portrait in my arms, his temper flaring. “You woman dare look down on us?”
I tightened my grip on the portrait and shifted my stance. “Let’s make this quick. All of you, come at once. I’m in a hurry.”
The four men quickly attacked together, but within seconds, I had sent each one sprawling. One even coughed up blood.
The funeral director behind me gaped. “Miss Sherman, your skills are incredible! You took them all down by yourself!”
Seeing her men down, Jacqueline was nearly shaking with rage. “What the hell am I paying you for? Get her! Whoever knocks her down today gets seventy grand!”
The bodyguards hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes, until the promise of money made them straighten, ready to try again.
“Stop!”
The command came from a deep, pleasant male voice.
From a distance, a tall man in a tailored suit walked toward us, a group of people trailing behind him. His gaze was cold and sharp, like an iceberg in human form. The faint scent of cologne drifted ahead of him.
He closed the distance quickly, heading straight for Jacqueline. Taking her hand, he looked her over with concern. “Who bullied you? I’ll handle it.”
Jacqueline immediately switched to a pitiful expression, pointing at me. “It’s her! She refused to give me the road, just because she’s got a dead man in her car. And she beat up all my bodyguards! Terence, you have to teach her a lesson. I never want to see her again in my life!”
Terence turned toward the injured bodyguards and asked, “Who was foolish enough to lay a hand on my sister—”
But his words were cut off when his gaze slid past them and landed on me. For a moment, surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by a frown. “Tabitha? You did this to them?”
I nodded.
His face darkened, his tone shifting to scolding. “You’re a woman. Why are you fighting like this? The future young mistress of the Tomlinsons should be gentle and well-mannered. This won’t do. Jacqueline is my family’s adopted daughter. We grew up together, so I’ve always treated her as my own sister. This is just a misunderstanding, nothing more.”
He then straightened, as if settling the matter, and added, “This was clearly your fault. How about you kneel and apologize to Jacqueline, then turn your father’s hearse around and give her the road? Do that, and we’ll call it even.”
