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

At that moment hearing what Oliver just said, the leader of the group tilted his head slightly, the smirk on his face widening into an arrogant grin. His tone dropped, casual but laced with mockery, as he stepped closer to Oliver.

"Well," the boss said, "that's not for me to tell you."

His words hung in the air, almost daring Oliver to push further.

"After we've teach you a proper lesson tonight," the man continued, his voice dripping with disdain, "you'll have plenty of time to think about who you offended. Use that head of yours to figure it out. And next time? Maybe you'll learn not to overstep your boundaries."

Immediately the other men chuckled lowly, emboldened by their leader's words. The echo of their laughter mingled with the hum of the parking lot lights, filling the space with an unnerving tension.

Oliver, however, didn't flinch. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, folding it neatly over his arm before tossing it into the open window of his car and closing it. His movements were calm, almost too calm the kind that made the men pause for half a second, wondering if they had misjudged him.

"So that's how it's going to be, huh?" Oliver said evenly, his tone void of fear. "You won't tell me who sent you? well that's fine."

Immediately his gaze swept across all eight men, sharp and unyielding.

"Then I'll just force the answer out of you."

The words dropped like a stone in the silence, and for a moment, confusion flickered across their faces. A couple of them exchanged glances, clearly thrown off by Oliver's composure.

The boss, however, only laughed a deep, mocking sound that rang through the parking lot. He gestured broadly to the others, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Listen to this guy!" the boss said, grinning. "Is that a threat? You're actually threatening us?"

He stepped back slightly, gesturing toward the empty space of people around them.

"Oliver, look around you. Count properly. There are eight of us. Eight."

His grin widened as he pointed a mocking finger at Oliver.

"And you? You're alone. Is there someone else here I'm not seeing? Another person standing beside you? Or is it just you, Oliver?"

At that moment, Oliver's eyes locked onto the boss, calm yet blazing with a quiet fire. He didn't take a step back; if anything, he planted his feet even more firmly on the ground, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the other men like steel against stone.

"Do I look like I'm joking with you?" Oliver's voice was bold, deep, and unshaken. "You came here with a purpose… and now, I have one too. You're going to give me an answer, every single one of you or I'll drag it out myself. So brace yourselves."

Immediately a tense silence followed his words.

Then the boss's grin faltered for just a second a flicker of surprise at Oliver's composure but he quickly masked it, letting out a harsh laugh as if mocking the threat.

"Keep that mouth shut boy!!" the boss barked, stepping closer until he was nearly chest to chest with Oliver. "Do you think this is some kind of game? Do you think we're not going to lay hands on you because you've got a pretty face?"

He sneered, his voice rising enough for the others to hear.

"Listen, pretty boy… that's not going to save you tonight. We're going to dismantle you so bad, even surgery won't fix you. They'll need to build you a whole new face when we're done."

The other men laughed lowly, the sound harsh and cruel, like hyenas circling prey.

Without needing a command, they began to spread out, forming a rough circle around Oliver. Their feet scraped against the concrete as they tightened the gap, cutting off any path of escape.

One cracked his knuckles loudly pop, pop, pop, while another rolled his neck until it gave a sharp crack. The sound echoed in the quiet lot.

Upon seeing Oliver standing there without a shred of fear in his eyes, the boss's smirk faltered for a brief moment.

Then he stepped back.

he had expected pleading, expected Oliver to drop to his knees and beg for leniency, maybe even try to bargain his way out of what was coming. Instead, what stood before him was defiance, calm, steady, and infuriating.

The boss exhaled sharply through his nose, disappointment flashing into anger.

'So it's true,' he thought bitterly. Just like his brother said.' Proud. Arrogant. Always carrying himself like he's untouchable.'

The boss's fingers twitched at his side, curling into a fist. "You think you're better than us, huh?" he muttered, voice low and dangerous. Then louder, for everyone to hear: "Fine. No mercy. Exactly it was requested. Break him. Make sure he learns, next time, when someone superior speaks, he shuts his mouth."

The words lit a spark among the men. A collective growl of agreement rumbled as they tightened their circle, their faces hardening, muscles tensing for the attack.

"Do it!" the boss barked.

One of the men behind Oliver lunged first, trying to catch him off-guard with a cheap shot to the back of the head. But Oliver's reflexes were sharper than any of them anticipated.

In a single motion, he stepped back, pivoting on his heel just enough for the swing to miss by inches.

Immediately his hand shot out, snatching the attacker's wrist mid-air, twisting it with precise force.

Before the man could even register what happened, Oliver's fist drove forward, once, twice, three times rapid strikes slamming into the man's stomach like a hammer. The attacker doubled over, choking on air, his knees buckling.

However Oliver didn't hesitate. With fluid precision, he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, yanking him forward as his own elbow snapped up and struck the man's neck in one brutal motion.

immediately a sharp, sickening thud echoed in the parking lot.

The man stumbled back violently, gasping for breath, eyes wide with shock and pain as he crumpled toward the ground.

At that moment without a single words he collapsed.