At that moment, Jerry didn't raise his voice. He didn't frown or even glare. He just stood there, calm and composed, his presence alone silencing every remaining word the man might have had to say. His voice came out steady—like cold steel masked in polite restraint.
"I'm not doing this to make your life better," Jerry began, his eyes sharp and direct. "I'm not here to play savior, and I didn't make that call for your sake."
The man shifted uncomfortably under Jerry's gaze, now fully realizing that the smile earlier wasn't friendliness—it was control.
"I did this for my wife," Jerry continued. "Because I don't want her worrying about people like you, or anyone thinking they can walk over her."
His voice tightened slightly, just enough to let the man feel the weight behind each word. "This—what happened today—should never happen again. If you ever try to mock her, look down on her, or make her feel lesser than she is... then I promise you, I won't overlook it."
