She let out a derisive snort, as if I'd told the world's funniest joke.
"You? Above everyone else?"
"Have you forgotten? The only reason I chose Francis over you was because you were a broke nobody. And clearly, I made the right call—you're not just poor, you're delusional."
"Oh, I get it now." Her eyes narrowed. "You've been carrying a grudge all these years because I rejected you. That's why you're here tonight, isn't it? To cause trouble?"
A grudge?
She really did think too highly of herself.
My brow furrowed. I looked at her the way one might look at a child who'd said something profoundly stupid.
"You really think highly of yourself, don't you? You're not even worth—"
"Enough!"
Alberta's shriek cut me off, her eyes dripping with contempt.
"Mike Finch, I never imagined you'd still be running your mouth when you're about to be destroyed."
"I'm done wasting my breath on you. Get on your knees, bow three times, and get out. Let's pretend we never knew each other."
I blinked, then shook my head with a quiet laugh.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm still waiting for your husband's apology—and those hundred acres."
That was the last straw. The classmates around the table couldn't hold back anymore.
"Alberta, since this bottom-feeder doesn't appreciate your kindness, why bother showing him any?"
"Besides, he humiliated Mr. Pruitt in front of everyone! He needs to be taught a lesson!"
"Just say the word, Alberta! We'll hold his head down and make him bow ourselves!"
These sycophants weren't about to miss a chance to prove their loyalty. One after another, they urged Alberta to let them handle me by force.
Alberta pressed her lips together, then slowly nodded.
"Anyone who lays hands on him tonight gets a hundred thousand dollars."
Several burly classmates shot to their feet, ready to force me to my knees.
Chester saw the situation turning and immediately stepped in front of me.
I glanced at my phone, then held up one finger.
"Fine. I'll remember every one of you. But I should warn you—you have one minute left."
Alberta froze for a second, then burst into wild, mocking laughter.
"What, you think in one minute my husband's going to walk through that door and take your side over mine? Side with some pathetic loser?"
"You really won't cry until you see your own coffin, will you?" She waved her hand dismissively. "What are you waiting for? Get him!"
The men lunged forward.
At that exact moment, the private room door was kicked open from outside with a deafening crash.
"Everyone—STOP!"
It was Damien Cross, the owner of Pinecrest Pavilion.
And right behind him stood Alberta's husband, Francis Pruitt.
