Chapter 103
The four wealthy women, once accustomed to a life of luxury and throwing their weight around, now looked like lambs awaiting slaughter.
Fear surged over them like a tidal wave, leaving them trembling like withered leaves in a cold autumn breeze. Their once- proud heads hung low, crushed by sheer terror.
One of the women, her legs shaking uncontrollably and her entire body trembling, pleaded with a sobbing voice, “Mr. Campbell, please, can’t you change the punishment? We’re truly sorry.”
Her husband, who had once been a dominant figure in the business world, now groveled like a lapdog, his face full of flattery. “Mr. Campbell, you’re a man of great generosity. My wife was foolish–please forgive her this once. We’ll do anything!”
The other three women were already sobbing uncontrollably, their tears mixing with their carefully applied makeup, leaving their faces a pitiful mess. “No, please! Anything but that! It’s too humiliating. Mr. Campbell, have mercy!”
Giovani’s lips curled into a meaningful smile. His deep, magnetic voice carried a chilling undertone. “Anything, you say?”
Seeing him appear to relent, a flicker of hope lit up in their eyes.
But in the next moment, Giovani’s icy words struck like a hammer, shattering their hopes. “Even bankruptcy? Is that a price you’re ready to pay?”
In an instant, the entire banquet hall seemed frozen in time, as if someone had hit pause on reality. The faint smiles that had just begun to form on people’s faces froze in place.
A wife could be easily replaced, but if a company went under, years of blood, sweat, and tears would vanish overnight. Starting over would be as hard as reaching for the stars.
The four men’s eyes were a battlefield of greed and hesitation. After a brief internal struggle, the scales of their decision tipped mercilessly toward their companies.
They could only stand there, powerless, as Giovani gave a subtle nod to the bodyguards.
The bodyguards grabbed the arms of the four women, dragging them roughly to the side and slamming their hands down
onto the table.
“Let me go! Please, let me go!” The women screamed and struggled, their cries piercing through the tense silence.
Giovani, calm and composed, picked up a fruit knife with an air of elegance. The blade caught the light, gleaming coldly as it reflected his sharp, unyielding expression.
He handed the knife to one of the husbands, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
The man’s face turned ashen with fear. “M–Mr. Campbell, what… what are you asking me to do?” he stammered.
Giovani’s lips curved into a faint, chilling smile. His voice was low and steady, each word laced with menace. “You failed to keep your wife in line at home, and now she’s causing trouble in public. I’m giving you the chance to fix that.”
The man’s hand trembled violently as he clutched the knife, his knuckles white from the strain.
His gaze darted back and forth between Giovani’s icy, commanding stare and his wife, who was sobbing uncontrollably, her face a picture of despair. It felt as though a swarm of ants was gnawing away at his insides.
His lips quivered, desperate to beg for mercy, but his throat felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, leaving him unable to utter a single word.
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“Don’t listen to him, please!” his wife cried out, her voice trembling with desperation.
The man glanced at his wife, his eyes clouded with pain and hesitation.
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He tried to lower the fruit knife, but the moment his gaze met Giovani’s piercingly cold stare, his hand froze, trembling uncontrollably.
“Mr. Campbell, please! Isn’t there another way? I… I can’t do this, I just can’t!” he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.
Giovani stood like an immovable glacier, silent and unyielding.
Camila watched quietly from the side, her expression devoid of sympathy.
These people had humiliated her, beaten her without mercy, never imagining they’d face retribution like this. Watching them struggle in terror brought her nothing but satisfaction.
She turned her head toward Giovani, the light casting shadows that accentuated his commanding presence. The way he stood up for her made him seem larger than life.
Her chest tightened as warmth filled her eyes. Gratitude, dependence, and an unfamiliar sense of safety swirled within her- a feeling she’d never dared to hope for.
The banquet hall was deathly silent, the air thick with tension. No one dared to make a sound, terrified of drawing Giovani’s attention.
Only the man’s labored breathing and his wife’s hopeless sobs echoed in the oppressive space.
“I’ll count to three. If you don’t act by then, you’ll lose your chance.” Giovani’s voice shattered the silence, cold and merciless.
“Three…” Giovani’s voice was like a blade cutting through the silence.
The man’s body jerked violently, his face contorting as his muscles twitched uncontrollably.
“Two…” Giovani continued.
The man gritted his teeth, his face twisted in agony and inner turmoil. His bloodshot eyes resembled those of a cornered beast, desperate and trapped.
“One…” Giovani said coldly.
As the last number echoed, the man steeled himself, raising the knife and bringing it down with brutal force. The knife severed his wife’s thumb in one decisive motion.
The woman let out a sharp, painful scream. Her body convulsed violently before collapsing backward, fainting from sheer
agony.
The bodyguards, showing no trace of compassion, grabbed the bucket of ice water they had prepared earlier and splashed it onto her face without hesitation. The icy shock hit her like a slap.
The freezing cold jolted the woman awake, and as her eyes landed on her mangled, bloodied finger, another gut–wrenching scream tore through the air.
The blood–stained knife slipped from the man’s trembling hand, clattering loudly onto the floor. His entire body shook uncontrollably, as if he were caught in a violent storm.
His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed uncontrollably.
The gruesome scene left everyone around pale and frozen in fear. Some women instinctively covered their mouths, too
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terrified to make a sound, while a few men turned their heads away, unable to stomach the sight.
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Even those who had once been close to the couple now backed away, desperate to avoid being dragged into this horrifying
mess.
The remaining three couples were so terrified they practically wet themselves.
Giovani’s icy gaze fell on the man kneeling before him. Not a shred of sympathy flickered in his eyes as he spoke in a voice. as cold as death, “Next.”
The men stumbled backward in terror, their faces pale as ghosts, their legs trembling so badly they could barely stand. Their wives clung to them, begging desperately.
When Giovani remained unmoved, they turned to Camila.
“Ms. Jackson, we’re sorry! Please, forgive us!”
“We’ll do anything you ask, just spare us!”
“Please, I’m begging you!”
Camila’s gaze swept over their tear–streaked faces. Not a shred of pity stirred in her heart. She knew that if it weren’t for Giovani standing by her side, she wouldn’t have had the chance to take her revenge today.
Without Giovani, all the beatings and humiliation she endured would have remained buried in the shadows, never to see the light of justice. The next time she faced these wealthy women, she would still be insulted and abused.
Therefore, she wouldn’t play the saint and forgive those who hurt her just because they begged.
Camila bent down and picked up the blood–stained knife from the floor. Blood slid down the blade, dripping onto the polished surface and blooming into vivid crimson flowers.
She handed the knife to one of the men, a faint, almost teasing smile tugging at her lips. “The pain I’ve endured isn’t something I can just let go of, wouldn’t you agree, sir?”
The man stared at Camila in terror. She looked so delicate, as if a breeze could knock her over, yet chilling determination that froze him in place.
Her meaning was unmistakable–she wasn’t going to let this slide.
her
gaze carried a
When he hesitated, Camila’s smile turned cold, devoid of any warmth. “I’m done wasting my breath on you.”
Her voice, sharp and icy, sent a shiver down the man’s spine. Trembling, he picked up the knife with shaking hands. Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself and, just like the first man, severed his wife’s thumb.
What followed was a symphony of screams, one after another, echoing through the hall.
All four wealthy women had their right thumbs cut off. Stripped down to their undergarments, their exposed bodies were laid bare under the stares of the crowd. The shame and agony in their cries grew even more piercing.
The bodyguards dragged the sobbing, wailing women out of the banquet hall.
The streets were alive with the chaos of rush hour–cars honking, people rushing, a constant buzz of activity.
The four women were unceremoniously thrown out of the hotel, instantly drawing attention. People stopped in their tracks, staring with a mix of shock, curiosity, and a hint of pity.
Their dignity was shattered, their hands rendered useless. No doubt about it–their days as rich wives were over. Their futures were ruined beyond repair.
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A suffocating tension hung heavy in the banquet hall, an invisible weight pressing down on everyone.
Agnes and William, having witnessed Giovani’s mercilessness, were too terrified to even breathe. They shrank back, trying to make themselves invisible, as if any movement might mark them as the next target.
Giovani turned his cold, piercing gaze to Robin, his voice a low, chilling threat. “You’re next.”
