Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(98)
The president clears his throat. “All those in support of Michael Hearst for president, please vote now.”
No one moves a muscle, and panic flares in the bastard’s eyes. He sways a little on his feet, and I can detect the sheen of sweat on his brow on the projected image of him now displayed on the screen.
“It’s working,” Drew whispers.
“What is the meaning of this?” he shouts, his voice projecting around the room, the slurring of his words evident to all.
A tall, distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair stands. I recognize him from his file photo. He’s a respected senior judge from the state of Michigan and a man who was personally appointed by the president of the United States. He holds an elevated position within the elite, and he is someone a lot of members look up to, according to Drew.
We handpicked him for this role, because someone of esteem needs to kick-start this into gear. If Drew or I attempted it, we would most likely be hauled out of the auditorium and thrown in the dungeon which I know exists in the basement area of this building.
Judge Gregory Penn looks like an upstanding citizen in his pressed gray suit with his broad shoulders held high and a haughty expression on his face. He prides himself on his family man image, and he has a large family of three sons and four daughters.
He’s also a perverted pedophile who loves raping young boys for his sick pleasure.
“Permission to approach the council and address all members,” he asks.
The president frowns, totally oblivious to what is happening. He looks to his council members, and they nod. “Permission granted,” he says before coughing into his handkerchief. He walks to the table on the stage where the other council members sit, dropping into the empty seat and mopping his brow.
The judge steps up to the podium, adjusting the microphone. He loudly clears his throat as a young man with a mass of shocking red hair steps onto the podium, looking agitated as he stands beside the judge, clutching a large white envelope.
Gregory Penn looks around the room before eyeballing my father who is clinging onto the side of his chair like he’s about to keel over. “In this envelope is a signed petition from the majority of Parkhurst members demanding the denouncement and removal of Michael Hearst from our noble institution.”
“That’s preposterous,” Father splutters, barely standing upright at this stage. The low dose of GHB I snuck into his juice will confuse him and slow him down so he can’t easily defend himself or escape.
“On what grounds are you making this request?” the president asks, slipping his glasses on as the young man with the red hair hands him the envelope with the petition.
“False representation, blackmail and extortion, murder of high-ranking elite members, and behavior unbecoming of an elite,” the judge says without batting an eyelash.
Hushed whispers whip through the crowd, and the president bangs his fist down on the table, instantly muting the room.
Alessandra pointedly looks at me, and there’s no disguising the look of sheer glee on her face. My finger twitches with the need to flip her the bird, but I shoot her a disinterested look instead, knowing that will piss her off more.
“You have no proof!” Father slurs, almost taking a tumble.
“We call Drew Hearst-Manning to the stage as our witness,” the judge says, and Drew stands. I rise, walking down the few steps toward the stage at the same time as my twin.
“Get back in your seat, Abigail,” Father hisses as I walk past him.
I can’t resist stopping in front of him. “You don’t look so hot, Father. Perhaps you should sit down.” I push his chest with one finger, and he collapses in the seat. I lean down over him, pouring every ounce of hate in my heart into my stare. “You should never underestimate women. Especially not the women in your life. I hope you get everything that is coming to you.”
“You tell him, babe,” Kai whispers in my ear. I smile broadly, and it’s all for him.
Drew is waiting at the side of the dais for me, and the judge frowns as he watches us both approach him, clearly perplexed and unhappy because I wasn’t part of the agreement.
But there is no way in hell I am sitting in the audience and watching Drew exact our revenge.
This retribution is mine, and it’s all the sweeter knowing I’m sticking two fingers to the elite and their sexist bullshit, as well as taking my bastard father down.
After today, every man in this room will learn a valuable lesson—that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Drew takes my hand as we step up onto the podium. The judge pins Drew with a sharp look when he nudges him to one side, allowing me in front of the mic. I bring it down to my level and wet my dry lips, willing my nerve to hold.
“You’ve got this, firecracker,” Kai whispers. “Give them hell.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Rick and Kai getting into position.
“Good morning. My name is Abigail Hearst-Manning. I am the daughter of Olivia Manning and Michael Hearst and sister to Drew. My father, and I use that reference in the very loosest terms, is a fraud and a manipulator, and he has spent years compiling evidence he has used to bribe key elite members into supporting his campaign for presidency.”
Rumblings of discontent echo around the room, and behind me I hear someone getting to their feet. “Not only that, he has falsified records pertaining to his childhood to present himself as an orphan and ward of the state when he is in fact the illegitimate son of a failed businessman and a prostitute.”