Chapter 3

I could feel my temple throbbing with rage as I saw the sticky spit on the floor. I was seconds away from losing it, but it was too soon to escalate things, so I turned and picked up the mop nearby.

Patrick reached out and blocked me. "I told you to wipe it up—not mop it."

I regarded him with disbelief. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Patrick scoffed and held his chin high. "I'm telling you to get down on the floor and scrub it on your knees until it meets my standards."

I finally snapped, slamming the mop onto the floor so hard the handle clattered loudly against the tiles. "I'm done! You're nothing but a petty regional deputy manager! Do you really think you're above all else?"

Those employees quickly crowded around the door after hearing the commotion happening in the restroom. They were all sticking their necks out to sneak a peek, but nobody dared step in to break it up.

Patrick, looking at the crowd of onlookers, felt completely humiliated. He stepped forward, raised his hand, and slapped me across the face again—a sharp, searing pain hit my cheek, leaving my ears ringing.

"You're damn right that I'm above all else! I'm telling you—Mr. Lingard and I are best buddies, willing to go through hell and back together! You think you can stand up to me? You'll be blacklisted from the industry for good with one phone call!"

I held my stinging cheek and glared at him with pure hatred. I couldn't believe that I had already been slapped twice in such a short span of time.

Patrick flinched slightly under my glare but still barked orders arrogantly. He yelled at the gathered employees, "What are you waiting for? Get over here and hold him down! I'll teach him a lesson and show him who's in charge before Mr. Lingard gets here!"

Those employees, intimidated under Patrick's glare, hesitated before reluctantly stepping forward. They grabbed my shoulders in a tight grip and forced me down onto the ice-cold sink.

I struggled with all my might, yelling at the top of my lungs, "Get off me! He's completely out of control, power-tripping and hiding behind his connections! Mr. Lingard won't even let him get away with this when he shows up!"

It was then that one of the young employees holding my shoulders kept his head down and whispered, "I don't have a choice since my whole family depends on this paycheck to survive. If Mr. Walker blackballs me, I won't be able to find another job anywhere. I won't be able to get by if that's the case…"

I understood immediately after hearing that. They weren't obeying out of loyalty, but out of sheer desperation. Patrick had exploited their vulnerability, enabling him to act with such utter impunity.

Upon seeing me held down and immobilized, Patrick patted my face mockingly and asked, "Did you hear that? I run things here! If I want it, I can do a lot more than just fire you—Mr. Lingard would hand me this entire dealership on a silver platter."

He turned on the faucet next to us after saying that, sending freezing water rushing out at once. He grabbed my head and shoved my face under it.

I coughed violently, struggling even to draw breath as water poured over me and went into my eyes, nose, and mouth.

I was just about to suffocate when a shout suddenly came from outside.

"Mr. Lingard's car has just arrived, Mr. Walker! He just pulled up out front!"

Patrick glared maliciously at me as I stood there dripping wet and humiliated, clearly having no intention of letting it go. "What's the panic? Go drag him out to the middle of the lobby and make him get on his knees to beg Mr. Lingard for forgiveness! He's going to find out exactly what happens when you cross me today!"

Those employees didn't dare to disobey, so they reluctantly stepped forward and grabbed me by the arms.

I struggled violently as my cold, wet suit clung tightly to my skin, but my arms were immobilized in a death grip, leaving me no choice but to be dragged by force into the center of the main lobby.

"Get on your knees!" Patrick stepped forward and kicked me hard right behind the knee.

I crashed heavily onto the freezing, hard floor after losing my balance, a sharp numbness shooting through my knees and a cold sweat breaking out all over my forehead from the sheer pain.

"You'd better stay down! You'll wait right there on your knees and beg Mr. Lingard for mercy when he shows up!" Patrick, still not satisfied, grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head toward the floor; my forehead smacked heavily against the tile floor with a sickening thud, leaving my head spinning.

Those employees around us merely kept their heads down; no one dared to look at me, and no one dared to step forward to intervene.

Just at that moment, the main entrance doors were pushed open.