The lackeys grew more and more excited, while Malcolm became increasingly smug amidst their flattery.
He basked in the feeling of being the center of attention, not forgetting to mock me in the process.
"Griffin, why are you so quiet now? Weren't you acting all tough just a moment ago? Cat got your tongue?"
As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed out the window.
"Believe it or not, if you don’t kneel and apologize to me today, I’ll smash your car."
My fists clenched involuntarily. Slowly, I let three words slip from my mouth:
"Go ahead, try."
"I don’t believe you!"
Malcolm hadn’t expected me to hold my ground like this and his expression grew increasingly twisted. After a moment of thought, he waved his hand dramatically.
"Everyone, follow me. Today, I’ll show the whole group how I turn his car into scrap metal!"
The sycophants, eager for more drama, immediately chimed in loudly. "Mr. Fitzroy, you're the man!"
Malcolm led the group outside, his chest puffed out with arrogance. Once everyone had gathered, he quietly lit a cigarette, then pointed at the Phantom car in front of us and shouted, "Smash it!"
At his command, his bodyguards rushed forward in unison.