THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 313

At that moment, upon hearing what Lisa just said, both of the guards looked at each other again with a mixture of disbelief and growing irritation. Their brows furrowed, then slowly lifted in mockery. One of them chuckled under his breath, nudging the other with his elbow, "Did you hear that right?"

"She really said it again," one of them scoffed. "This girl's either stupid, or she seriously doesn't know who we are."

The other one burst into laughter, slapping his thigh. "Unbelievable! This little girl thinks she can walk into the Jackson family estate, point fingers, and bark out orders like she owns the place?"

Their voices grew louder, and their mocking laughter echoed through the courtyard. The other servants nearby began to glance over, whispering among themselves, unsure whether to intervene or watch the drama unfold.

Then, with a smug smirk, one of the guards stepped forward and leaned slightly toward Lisa, looking her up and down like she was some joke that overstayed its welcome. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"You really think you can command us? Who do you think you are, huh?" he sneered. "You're nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a lapdog pretending to roar like a lion. In fact, let me remind you—"

But he didn't get to finish that sentence.

Because in that very moment, before his next word could even form on his lips, something blurred past Lisa with lightning speed.

It was Oliver.

He was no longer standing behind Lisa where he had been a moment ago—he was now directly in front of the guard. There was no warning. No sound. No hesitation.

And before the guard could even blink, Oliver's hand had already clamped tightly around his neck.

The force of the grip was so sudden that the guard gasped, his words cut off with a choking sound as his eyes widened in raw panic. He tried to raise his arms, to pull Oliver's hand away, but it was useless.

Oliver wasn't even looking angry. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't frowning. He looked calm. Too calm. And that somehow made it worse.

With a single, fluid motion, Oliver lifted the guard off the ground with just one hand. His feet kicked in the air like a ragdoll, boots scraping helplessly at nothing.

Immediately Everyone froze.

The second guard's jaw dropped, and he instinctively stepped back, unsure whether to help or run.

Oliver's voice, cold and low, cut through the tension like a knife.

"I don't have time for this nonsense," he said, his eyes never blinking. "Someone is waiting for me. She's probably checking her time right now, wondering if I'll come soon."

Then, his lips curled slightly not into a smile, but something sharper, something more dangerous.

"I don't have time for this rubbish."

And just like that, Oliver flung the guard aside as if he weighed nothing. The man's body flew across the yard and slammed into the iron gate with a deafening clang. His back hit first, then his head snapped back, and finally, he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

Unmoving.

At that moment, upon seeing what Oliver had just done to his colleague, the second guard instantly took a startled step backward. His heart slammed against his chest as if trying to escape the horror his eyes had just witnessed. He couldn't believe what he saw—his fellow guard, a man twice the size of Oliver, had just been tossed like a ragdoll with one effortless swing, his body crashing into the gate with such brutal force that it left a dent in the metal and a cold silence in the air.

It didn't make sense.

Not to him.

He blinked rapidly, mouth slightly open, hands trembling. How was that even possible? Who—no, what—was this man? That kind of strength wasn't human. It couldn't be. And yet, it had just happened before his very eyes. His instincts screamed at him to run, to disappear before he ended up like his partner, but before his body could even obey, a soft yet terrifying presence appeared in front of him.

It was Lisa, she didn't rush she didn't raise her voice.

She simply stood there, calmly—too calmly for what had just occurred. Her cold, piercing gaze held no mercy, and her expression wore that same dangerous smile. A smile that didn't reach her eyes.

In one swift, unexpected motion, Lisa reached out and grabbed the man by his ear—like a mother gripping a disobedient child. The moment her fingers locked around the sensitive flesh, his knees bent slightly in pain, but he couldn't even react. He tried to move, his free hand trembling as it reached for the baton strapped to his belt. But to his complete shock, his body froze—paralyzed. He couldn't lift his arm any further. He couldn't even cry out. It was like his limbs had betrayed him.

Lisa's voice was low, but it dripped with venom.

"You deaf human being," she said slowly, dragging the words like sharp nails across his pride. "If you had actually listened to what I've been saying to you from the very beginning… none of this would have happened to you. But you wanted to bark like a dog and show your teeth at my master?"

Her grip on his ear tightened slightly, and the man winced in silent agony.

Then, without another word, Oliver walked past them. His hands were now casually in his pockets, his face expressionless as though what just happened meant nothing at all. His coat fluttered slightly with the breeze as he made his way through the now-open gates.

And Lisa? Lisa didn't let go.

She began to drag the guard by the ear—like some disobedient child caught causing trouble—as if she was teaching him a lesson in shame. His boots scraped awkwardly against the ground, his body stiff and slouched in defeat. All he could do was whimper and endure the humiliation. They were now inside the compound, and the gates had already been opened.

Without wasting another second, Oliver strode forward like a storm breaking through the calm. His presence alone sent a ripple through the air as he walked straight into the Jackson family mansion, ignoring the ornate doors that had just swung open behind him. His steps were heavy, but each one was filled with purpose cold, steady, unstoppable. Right behind him, Lisa followed with her head held high, her expression unreadable, but her grip told the story: her fingers were still tightly gripping the ear of the second guard, dragging him like a naughty child who had crossed the line.