Chapter 254: Apology, Attitude, Omniscience

“I’ll help you smooth over some connections. For now, don’t do anything—just stay at home,” Lynch said, sitting by the sofa as he gave instructions. “I’ve already spoken with the community service company. They’ll arrange for two maids to stay with you around the clock. Don’t worry about the police or investigation bureau; I’ve handled that.”

“As for the lawsuit, I’ll take care of it.”

The next day, Lynch came again, this time to calm Vera down and stop her from acting rashly.

Women can be shrewd. They can detect the scent of that awful woman on their husband’s clothes, and uncover small secrets from daily details. But sometimes, they can be foolish— the more you forbid them from doing something, the more they insist on doing it.

So Lynch needed to warn her not to try to fix things on her own and risk burning all bridges.

After a night of calm, Vera was more stable but still conflicted. “I don’t know how to thank you. None of this is your responsibility.”

Lynch smiled as always and patted her hand. “Then just work hard for me. Until this is over, you still have to work. Don’t forget, many call me a capitalist. Would a capitalist pay you for doing nothing?”

Seeing Vera’s surprised expression, Lynch delivered a cruel truth: “I’ll have the documents you need to handle sent here. Don’t think you can avoid work just because of some trouble at home. That’s naïve.”

This was also a way to comfort her—his cheerful tone describing his cruelty made the contrast less harsh and helped her relax.

Vera smiled more and squeezed Lynch’s hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Just as Lynch was about to leave, someone knocked. The maid answered, and the visitor’s arrival shattered Vera’s fragile calm.

It was the female officer—the one who humiliated her. But this time she wasn’t in uniform, no black belt with gun holster, handcuffs, or baton, no badge on her chest. She wore plain clothes.

Maybe it was this ordinary outfit that made Vera’s reaction only somewhat intense. She looked upset and about to speak, but Lynch stopped her. “Listen first.”

The officer looked awkward and embarrassed. Yesterday, she had lost her temper in this room, humiliating this woman by abusing her authority.

For some police officers—whose job doesn’t require a high education level—especially the impulsive ones, this behavior is common.

They enjoy using their status to pick on people—especially those who are wealthy but powerless, or trapped in troubles. Bullying them gives these officers a twisted sense of satisfaction, convincing themselves money isn’t that impressive.

Now, she had to pay for her reckless actions, and the price was heavy.

Standing at the door, looking at the couple on the sofa, she didn’t know where to start. Lynch and Vera truly saw her for the first time.

Her right eye was flawed, making one eye look bigger than the other. Maybe due to vision, her right shoulder was lower or she had a habit affecting posture.

Her overweight body made her look like a rolling ball. Her brown hair was coarse and tangled, like an unkempt horse’s mane.

Her dull eyes looked frightening.

After less than twenty seconds of silence, her lips moved, uttering, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice was quiet—audible but without sincerity.

Lynch repeated louder, “Sorry!”

The officer looked confused, as if asking Lynch what he meant.

Lynch kept his calm smile. “It’s not hard to say and nothing special. If that’s all, you can leave.”

Her lips moved again. She wanted to storm off but couldn’t change the facts.

She had learned some things from colleagues and friends—starting with her son.

A girl in her son’s class reported her wallet missing. The teacher demanded honesty, but no one confessed. Then the teacher asked everyone to prove they didn’t take it.

This was the teacher’s method—not invading privacy or suggesting how to prove innocence, leaving it up to the students.

Soon, one student emptied his pockets and opened his backpack for all to see. When her son opened his bag, the class erupted.

It was no longer just suspension. Even if her son returned, he might be bullied. The only option was to transfer schools, meaning extra costs.

She also learned the school received a $10,000 scholarship donation that day.

The same thing happened at her husband’s factory. The honest man’s workplace got a large order yesterday. Normally, they would want more workers or harder work, not fire a skilled employee.

Skilled workers are rare; one can guide several rookies to handle a whole machine unit.

Yet they fired her husband against all reason. Someone privately told her the factory’s condition for the order was to fire him—and the boss agreed.

No one would pay such a price just to cause trouble for an ordinary family. The officer thought no one would use tens of thousands of Sol just to make life hard.

But it happened. After a night of thought, she decided to correct her mistake, apologize, and seek forgiveness from Vera and Lynch.

Good intentions like I will work hard, I will study seriously, or I will stop staying up late are easy to say.

Recognizing mistakes and sincerely apologizing is good too—but that step is hard.

Before coming, she had rehearsed her apology. When the moment came, all her well-prepared words vanished, leaving only I’m sorry.

After Lynch repeated her apology, she realized this would not be as simple as she imagined.

“Attitude, ma’am. Your apology must show us your sincerity,” Lynch said plainly, but his words carried a hidden weight. “Don’t feel wronged or see yourself as the victim.”

“The other day, this lady here was humiliated by you with no way to resist. Now, there’s no one else here but us. This is a better environment than when she was treated unfairly.”

“Now, show us your sincerity. After all, you came here to solve these problems, right?”

No flaws, no extra words—but both sides knew what this meant.

The officer lowered her head, fists clenched, jaw tight enough to hurt.

She wanted to refuse and walk away, but remembering her family’s plight dissolved her resistance.

“I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry, Ms. Vera. I admit I…”

She spoke out. Learning to lower one’s head is one of humanity’s greatest growths. The words she had rehearsed came out smoothly, without embarrassment—because when worse things await, this no longer feels difficult.

She said a lot, ending with “I’m sorry.” Clearly, this apology carried much more sincerity than the one-word attempt before.

Lynch didn’t decide on his own but looked at Vera. “Are you willing to forgive her?”

Vera’s expression was complicated but she finally nodded. This is the hallmark of kind middle-class women—they often forgive others easily but are less forgiving toward their own.

Of course, that’s another matter.

“Out of respect for Ms. Vera, this ends here. Do you understand?” Lynch warned the officer, making it clear not to stir trouble again.

The officer felt a chill, understood Lynch’s meaning, and nodded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Lynch, I understand. I regret and apologize for the foolish things I did yesterday…”

She wanted to say more, but Lynch gave no chance—he just let her leave.

After she left, Vera looked at Lynch curiously. “How did you do it?”

Lynch smiled. “I made three phone calls, signed two checks, and helped some people. That’s all.”

Everything that happened to the officer was simply the return for Lynch’s efforts.

This is the power of money. In the Baylor Federation, no one can resist its direct or indirect influence. It’s omnipotent.