CHAPTER 265: CHAPTER 265

At that moment, after hearing what Oliver just said, everything in the room became tense.

Abigail’s father didn’t wait another second. He bent his head even lower until his forehead touched Oliver’s feet. His voice was weak and shaking as he said, "Please, we are sorry... very, very sorry."

Right after him, Abigail’s mother followed. She got down as well, placing her hands together like she was praying. Her face looked pale, and her eyes were filled with shame. "Sir, we had no idea... Please forgive us."

Without needing to be told, they both turned to Abigail and forced her down too. Abigail’s legs were weak, and her hands were trembling. Her father gave her a little push, and her knees hit the floor. "Bow your head now!" her mother whispered sharply.

And Abigail obeyed.

Now, the three of them were on the floor, heads down, in front of Oliver.

Abigail’s father tried again, his words soft and desperate. "Please, we are sorry. We had no idea she was getting involved with someone like Cora. If we had known, we would have warned her... We would have stopped her."

"Yes," her mother added quickly, "We will make sure she never has anything to do with Cora again. We swear it."

Abigail still had her head down. She didn’t say a word. Her hands were shaking, and her lips were pressed tightly together. Deep down, she knew she had messed up. But now... now she just wanted all of this to stop.

"We’ll take care of it ourselves," her father went on. "From today, we will watch her closely. If we fail to do that, then... then Sir, you can do whatever you want to us. We will not question it. You can do as you see fit."

Abigail’s mother nodded. "Please, forgive us. We are truly, truly sorry for everything."

They all stayed like that on the floor, not daring to move or even look up. The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the deep, heavy silence coming from Oliver.

And in that silence, their fear only grew.

At that moment, after everything had been said, Oliver slowly turned to face them again. His eyes were cold and his face expressionless. His voice was firm but low, like someone who already made up his mind.

"Well," he said, "it’s clear you all are extremely sorry. But I want you to understand something I’m not sorry. I’m not here to play along or feel pity for anyone. I’m going to do whatever I want to do. And if any of you dare to disagree with what I say from this point on..." he paused and looked at each of them with piercing eyes "then I promise you, I will be ruthless. I won’t just come after Abigail. I’ll tear down every single one of you."

Immediately after hearing those words, all of then Abigail, her father, and her mother quickly raised their heads in panic. They were already on their knees, their faces pale, sweat dripping from their foreheads.

"No! No, please!" her mother cried out, her voice shaky. "Whatever you say! Just say it, please! We’ll do it! Anything you want!"

"Yes," her father added quickly, nodding over and over again. "Anything at all, Mr. Oliver! Whatever you demand. Just tell us what to do. We won’t argue. We swear."

Oliver stepped closer, watching them like they were nothing but insects. "Good," he said. "Since you all say you’ll do whatever I say, then listen carefully... because I’m going to list my conditions, one by one."

They all nodded repeatedly, waiting, almost holding their breath.

Then Oliver said, "I heard something interesting about your family. That you own a TV station. That you’ve used it for years to twist stories, to manipulate public opinion, to push your own narrative and bury the truth about people like Cora and others."

He paused, narrowing his eyes.

"Is that true?"

Without wasting another second, all of them nodded at once.

"Yes, yes!" her father said. "It’s true we actually have three TV stations! But but we swear."

Oliver’s eyes skimmed across the trembling faces before him Abigail, small and brittle now; her father, wiped pale and broken; her mother, clutching at the hem of her skirt as if it could stitch a hole in the air. The room smelled faintly of fear and perfume. For a long second there was nothing but the soft sound of wet palms on carpets and the quiet rasp of desperate breaths. Then Oliver spoke, his voice like a blade wrapped in velvet.

"Listen carefully," he said. "I’m not going to waste time dancing around consequences. I want you to understand the terms now, because later, when I need you to act, I don’t want excuses. I want obedience."

He paused and let the sentence settle, let them imagine the alternative. Abigail’s father swallowed hard and nodded so quickly his whole body jerked.

"What I want first," Oliver continued, "is for all of you every single one of you to stay away from Cora. No proximity. No chatter. No influence. Abigail, you will not approach her or try to contact her. If you want to live with your head, you will stay clear. If you step over that line, if I hear one whisper from any of your channels, if you think you can use your stations to smear a woman I care about, you will not wake up the next morning with the things you value intact."

Hearing Oliver words Abigail’s father bowed even lower, knocking his forehead almost to the floor. "Yes," he croaked. "Yes, anything you say. We will obey."

Oliver let a small, skeptical smile cross his features. He had heard that promise before from easier men, from men with loftier courage in private. He had also watched what that kind of bravado cost those who made it while truths still smeared under the nails. But the family looked brittle in a way that suggested they had exhausted bluster. They had run out of runway.

"Good," he said. "That’s the first thing. Now, understand this: I will be calling on you later. I don’t need to tell you the reason yet. When the time comes, you will do what I instruct. You will not bargain, you will not ask for guarantees beyond what’s already been said. You will act."

Abigail’s mother sobbed once and then nodded until her shoulders shook. There was a tremor in every answer, a sincerity sharpened by fear.

Abigail’s father found his voice and quivering, ashamed he rose from where he had been prostrate and met Oliver’s gaze. "You have every right to be angry with me," he said. "You have every right to ask for retribution. Whatever you demand, I will do. I know the grave debt I owe your family. I know the wrong. I cannot take back what has been done, but I can spend whatever time I have left paying back what is owed."