THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.
Chapter 56

Chapter 56: Chapter 56

Oliver’s face remained stone cold. His jaw tightened as his gaze hardened. "I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care. I asked you a simple question. Why were you forcing your jacket on her when she clearly said no?"

Samuel’s smug expression faltered. He hadn’t expected that blunt response. He glanced at Cora, but she remained silent, her arms folded, her expression unreadable. His jaw tightened slightly as he redirected his attention back to Oliver, schooling his features into something more composed.

"Well," Samuel started smoothly, slipping both hands into his pockets as if that would calm the fire boiling beneath the surface, "I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Cora—yes, she’s my boss, and I respect her a lot. I was just trying to help her. She looked like she might be catching a chill, and since her companion"—he raised an eyebrow meaningfully—"was taking forever to show up, I figured I’d keep her comfortable. That’s all. I wasn’t expecting a hostile interrogation or whatever this is."

Oliver stepped forward slightly. Not threatening, but his presence alone could turn calm water into crashing waves. "Helping?" he repeated, his voice low and firm. "You think it’s help when someone says no, and you still push? You call that respect?"

Samuel opened his mouth, but Oliver didn’t give him the chance.

"If she said no once, that should’ve been enough. But you were still trying to slide that jacket onto her like you couldn’t hear her." His brows furrowed deeper. "Where I come from, that’s called crossing a line. And I don’t care who you are, what five-year-olds know your name, or how big your ego is—if you can’t take no for an answer from your boss, then maybe you need a long break from being anywhere near her."

The heat in Oliver’s words didn’t come from yelling. It came from conviction—from the kind of man who didn’t bluff.

Samuel’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he chuckled dryly again, this time with a tinge of bitterness. "Damn. Okay. I guess you’re the boyfriend, huh? Now it makes sense."

Oliver didn’t flinch. "That’s none of your business. But what is your business is this warning—let this be the last time anything like this happens again."

At that moment, Samuel took a small step backward, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. "No problem," he said quickly. "No problem at all. I’ve heard you loud and clear." He tried to make his tone light, casual—like he wasn’t fazed by Oliver’s sharp words or the intensity in his eyes—but there was a tightness in his smile that betrayed his growing frustration.

Oliver, however, didn’t move. His eyes remained locked on Samuel, burning with quiet fury. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His expression alone carried the weight of his warning.

Samuel could feel the tension thick in the air. He adjusted the collar of his shirt unnecessarily, trying to act unbothered, but the truth was clear—Oliver had just walked in and shifted the entire atmosphere without even trying. And worse, Samuel knew that he’d failed. His plan to appear charming, concerned, even close to Cora—it had all crumbled the moment Oliver showed up. There was no good photo. No hint of closeness. Just a sharp interruption and a man who clearly didn’t play games.

Then, as if deliberately to end any form of confusion or speculation, Oliver took one step forward—so close that Samuel instinctively straightened his posture. With his voice low and controlled, Oliver leaned toward Samuel and spoke near his ear, the words meant only for him.

"I know what you’re trying to do," he said, his tone calm but edged with steel. "This whole act—following her, trying to get close, trying to make it seem like there’s something between the two of you—I see it. And I’m telling you now, don’t try this again. Like I said before... this is your last warning. Next time, I won’t be this quiet."

He didn’t wait for a response.

Oliver turned without another glance, walked straight over to Cora—who had been standing a few steps away, watching the whole scene unfold silently—and paused in front of her. His expression softened just a little, just enough for her to notice the shift in energy.

"It seems you’re cold"

Olivia said quietly, however

Without saying a word, Oliver reached up, unbuttoned his own jacket, and slipped it off his shoulders. He gently placed it around Cora’s shoulders with a quiet sense of care—not performative, not rushed. Just real.

"There," he said simply, looking into her eyes. "Let’s go."

At that moment, Cora didn’t say a word. She just quietly pulled Oliver’s jacket closer around her shoulders, the soft warmth of the fabric feeling more comforting than she expected. She adjusted it gently, wrapping it properly as if sealing herself away from the awkwardness Samuel had just stirred up. There was something calming about how Oliver had handled everything—silent but powerful.

Oliver didn’t make a scene. He simply walked ahead, opened the passenger-side door for her like a gentleman, and waited. Cora stepped in gracefully, settling into the seat without a single glance back at Samuel. Her silence said enough.

Oliver, before walking around to the driver’s side, turned his head one last time. His eyes met Samuel’s—and in that moment, he didn’t have to say a word. The disgust on his face was more than enough. A sharp glare, cold and firm, landed on Samuel before he turned away and stepped into the car.

The door shut.

The engine started.

And just like that, the car rolled out of the parking lot, calm and collected—leaving Samuel standing there alone in the shadows.

The silence around him suddenly felt deafening. That’s when it hit him.

His jaw clenched, and with a sudden growl of frustration, he kicked the metal trash bucket by the wall. The force knocked it over, sending empty cans and paper scraps tumbling across the pavement.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Samuel barked, his voice rising as he paced in circles. "That bastard—what kind of fool walks up to me like that and talks to me like I’m nobody?!"

He ran his hand through his hair, furious.

"He acted like he didn’t even know me! Me! Samuel freaking Braydon! Everyone knows me! Everyone in this damn country knows me!"

His voice echoed into the car Garage, sharp and bitter. But there was no one to listen.

Just Samuel, fuming in silence, his plan ruined—and the jacket still in his hand.