“Yes, sir.” The servant didn’t hesitate, immediately bowing before retreating swiftly. The moment the car rolled out of the garage, Jonathan caught sight of Courtney, stumbling and gasping for breath as she fled from his front door. Behind her, two Deutslia Shepherds, their teeth bared and eyes wild, chased her down with an intensity that made the air vibrate with their growls. The sight was enough to confirm everything. His son’s handiwork, no doubt. Jonathan didn’t intervene. After all, Courtney had earned every bit of this chaos. “Has the Oracle responded?” Jonathan’s voice was crisp, cutting through the tension. The Oracle’s return had sent shockwaves across the business world. Every company was desperate to align with them. Securing the Oracle of Stocks would mean control of the market, the stock prices, and influence over valuations. Naturally, Jonathan had his eyes on the prize. Bartemius cleared his throat, nervous. “Mr. Hyperion, Oracle of Stocks has declined our invitation. I’ve learned they’ve chosen to work with Jacques.” Jonathan’s expression darkened. His brows furrowed deep. Why would the Oracle choose Jacques of all people? The man was nothing more than a useless pawn. … “You’re the Oracle of Stocks?” Jacques blinked in disbelief as he looked at the woman standing before him. She wore a sleek black spaghetti strap dress that clung to her form, but it was the mask she wore—dark, mysterious—that concealed her features entirely. Never in a thousand years had Jacques imagined that the Oracle of Stocks—the figure capable of shifting entire economies—could be a woman, and so young. But something about her … It reminded him of Natalie. Impossible. Natalie was his devoted fool. She could never be the Oracle of Stocks. “Oracle, why did you choose me?” The question escaped Jacques before he could stop himself. There were so many powerful companies eager to align with Oracle of Stocks, Hyperion Group among them. He couldn’t fathom why the Oracle would choose him. Natalie swirled her glass of red wine, watching the dark liquid spin. She took a slow sip, her lips curling into a sneer. Her voice, when it came, was as sharp as a blade. “You’re nothing. Weak. Arrogant. Stupid. Honestly, I’d pick a dog over you any day.” Jacques’ smile faltered, his face tightening in frustration. He wanted to retort, but the presence of the Oracle of Stocks stifled him. His fists clenched under the table, barely restraining the urge to snap. Natalie savored his discomfort, her eyes never leaving his face. “My daughter’s critically ill. She needs a blood transfusion. Problem is, her blood type is rare. Very rare. There’s hardly any in the banks. I’ve searched all of Regalia, and there are barely any matches.” Slowly, she took another sip of wine. Her gaze locked onto Jacques, cold and calculating. “I remember, Mr. Fourside, that you have a daughter. She has a … rare blood type as well, yes?” Jacques blinked, caught off guard. “Yes,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. Natalie leaned back, a predator watching its prey. She adjusted her position, making herself more comfortable. “If you’re willing to let your daughter become a walking blood bank for mine, I can sign a partnership contract with you right here, right now.” She raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a small, knowing smile. “So, Mr. Fourside. Your daughter … or your future?” Jacques stammered, caught between rage and disbelief. “I … I need to think about it.” Natalie wasn’t in a hurry. The bait was set, and now she just had to wait. If he didn’t come crawling, she wouldn’t hesitate to make him. She had ways. … Outside the elite nursery school, luxury cars gleamed under the sun. Natalie stood there, one hand clutching a sausage, the other a bottle of Milk Lady. She was waiting for Eve. Minutes ticked by. Thirty, then forty, and still, no sign of her daughter. Worry began to crawl up her spine. She made her way inside, finding the classroom empty. Then, faint voices drifted from the storage room. Natalie moved closer, eyes narrowing. Through the crack in the window, she saw it. Yvonne, sprawled on the floor, being tormented by a group of girls. One girl, short-haired and sneering, yanked on Yvonne’s hair. “You hit me, you little bastard.” Yvonne’s eyes blazed with defiance. “Yeah, because you called my mommy a loser!” Gwendolyn’s laugh was haughty, cruel. “My dad only loves my mom, but she’s still clinging to him. Of course she’s a loser. What do you want her to be? A slut?” Yvonne’s face twisted with rage. “Shut up! Don’t talk about my mommy like that!” Without a second thought, she lunged at Gwendolyn, fists flying. The sound of small fists landing with fury filled the air. The other little girl yanked Yvonne away, her hands firm as she tugged the smaller girl from the mess. Gwendolyn’s face turned a deep crimson, her fury palpable. She grabbed Yvonne’s long hair with a brutal yank and pulled out a pair of scissors from her pocket, her eyes flashing with malice. “You little bastard. You’re just a walking blood bank for me. You don’t lay a finger on me. Today, you’ll learn what happens when you cross me.” “Who are you calling a little bastard, girl?” Before Gwendolyn could react, a forceful hand grabbed her arm and lifted her off the ground. Her feet dangled uselessly in the air. “Mommy!” Yvonne’s voice cracked, the relief rushing through her like a tidal wave. She flung herself into Natalie’s arms, wrapping her small arms around her mother’s legs, tears flowing freely. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s here.” Natalie’s voice was steady, soft, a calm anchor in the storm. With a swift, practiced motion, Natalie threw Gwendolyn aside, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud. She gently rubbed her daughter’s back, soothing her with quiet words. “Apologize.” The command was sharp, cold, and aimed directly at Gwendolyn. “Apologize to that little bastard?” Gwendolyn Fourside sneered, unfazed, her voice dripping with contempt. “Natalie, you out of your mind?” She wasn’t even the slightest bit scared. She stood taller, unbowed, her arrogance radiating like a cloud. “If you hit Yvonne and I feel like it, I might let you work as a maid in my house. Maybe I’ll even let you meet my dad.” Six-year-old Gwendolyn was far from innocent. No traces of sweetness, no childlike wonder. She was spoiled, sharp, rotten at the core. Natalie had once thought the parents were the problem—perhaps the child was just a victim. But now it was clear. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Did Courtney bang your head against the wall too many times when you were a smaller piece of shit? Why would I ever hit my daughter for you?” “Cut the crap!” Gwendolyn snapped, arms crossed, her voice sharp. “You think you can play the loving mother now? It’s too late for that. I remember, Natalie. You used to hit Yvonne just to please me. You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” Gwendolyn’s arms were crossed, her face a mask of mockery. Natalie’s eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a slight sneer. She didn’t believe a word of it. “I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to apologize?” Gwendolyn scoffed, unphased. “No. And what are you gonna do about it?” Natalie’s smile was cool, almost amused. “Another lesson for the bitch’s little pup: fuck around and find out.” She pulled a small stool from nearby, placing Yvonne gently on it, her motions smooth and deliberate. She handed Yvonne the sausage and Milk Lady, her voice softening as she looked at her daughter. “Eve, Mommy’s going to make things right.” Yvonne, her face serious and focused, picked up a stick from the ground and handed it to Natalie. “Use this, Mommy. Don’t want you to hurt your hands.” If her mother got hurt, she would feel it too. “Oh, you sure know how to show some care,” Natalie said, her voice soft with a mix of pride and affection as she looked at her well-behaved daughter. She locked the door behind her with a deliberate click that broke the silence. She gripped the stick tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.She walked toward Gwendolyn and the others. “Natalie, what do you think you’re doing?!” “Jacques and Courtney didn’t bother to teach you manners, but I’ve got all the time in the world to fix that.” Without another word, she yanked Gwendolyn, who was trying to make a break for it, by the arm, pulling her back. Natalie tore down Gwendolyn’s pants. The stick rose high, and with a sharp crack, it landed on Gwendolyn’s backside. The others, the little followers who had joined in tormenting Yvonne, weren’t spared either. They found themselves pinned, squirming under Natalie’s grip, their cries soon filling the space with high-pitched wails. Each smack echoed, like a reminder of who was in charge. Yvonne, sitting contentedly on the side, bit into her sausage and sipped from her Milk Lady bottle, her eyes practically glowing with admiration. Mommy, you’re amazing! Bang! Bang! Bang! Frantic knocking came from the outside, the teacher on the other side desperate to break through. Her urgency was palpable. When the door finally cracked open, the sight she was met with was nothing short of shocking. Gwendolyn and her gang were sprawled across the floor, their backsides red, swollen, marked by the unmistakable imprint of the stick. Among them, Gwendolyn had taken the worst of it. Her bottom was bruised, swollen, resembling the puffed-up backside of a monkey. “Natalie, what on earth are you doing?” The teacher’s voice cracked, filled with both confusion and anger. But before the words could fully leave her mouth, Natalie had already pointed the stick at her, its tip dangerously close to her face. “What you should’ve been doing—disciplining these unruly brats,” Natalie snapped, her voice biting. “You’ve gone too far!” the teacher protested. “They were just playing! How could you actually hit them?” “Oh, just playing? Well, I’m playing too. But it seems they can’t handle my kind of ‘play.’ A little tap, and they’re already crying. What do you say, teach? Want to join in the ‘fun’?” Her grin widened, and the stick hovered dangerously close to the teacher’s neck. The teacher instinctively covered her backside with her hands, her body stiff with fear. Within moments, Jacques, Courtney, and the other irate parents had been notified and stormed into the room. The air grew thick with tension. When Courtney caught sight of Gwendolyn’s bruised bottom, her expression morphed into one of unbridled rage. Without a second thought, she lunged at Natalie, her hands outstretched in an attempt to strike. The other parents, eager for confrontation, followed suit, thinking their numbers would be enough to overpower Natalie. They were tough, used to pushing others around. They thought they could intimidate her, that their collective force would break her. After all, it was just her against all of them.
wake up married
Status: Ongoing
