A Billionaire’s Final Warning

During the school holidays, I took my daughter to a park. I had barely entered the park entrance with my daughter when a supercar crossed the solid line and rear-ended us.

The man who jumped out came storming toward me, furious.

"Do you even know how to drive? Do you know how much this car costs? You can't afford it even if you went bankrupt!"

I was about to argue back since he was clearly the one breaking traffic rules.

But I froze.

That car looked painfully familiar.

Wasn't that the supercar my mother gave me the first year I took over the Milton Group?

Even the license plate was identical.

My wife, Hazel Bishop, had told me the engine was broken and that she'd sent it to the dealership for repairs.

I met the man's arrogant stare. "Is this car really yours?"

He paused, then grinned smugly.

"My wife bought it for me. It's limited-edition. Someone like you wouldn't understand. Go call your family and sell your house. You owe me 200 thousand dollars."

Sneering, he added, "Don't try anything clever. My wife's the GM of Milton Group. She has serious connections. She'll be here any minute."

I let out a cold laugh.

So Hazel canceled on our daughter today, not because of a business meeting, but because she was out spending the holiday with her lover and his kid instead.

During the school holidays, I took my daughter to a park. I had barely entered the park entrance with my daughter when a supercar crossed the solid line and rear-ended us.

The man climbed out aggressively. "Do you even know how to drive? Do you know how much this car costs? You can't afford it even if you went bankrupt!"

I frowned and pointed at the solid line marking on the road. "Sir, you crossed the line and caused the collision. It's your fault…"

He cut me off impatiently, "No, you're obviously at fault here. When you see a multi-million-dollar supercar like mine, you're supposed to move aside. Now pay me for the damages!"

I almost laughed from disbelief.

Great. A professional bully.

I pulled out my phone to call the traffic police.

Before I could dial, the man, Saul Matthews, shot me a contemptuous look and grabbed my wrist, stopping the call.

"Calling the cops won't help. My wife has serious connections. I want 200 thousand dollars right now. Call your family and sell your house. If you make me mad, I'll ruin you!"

He was being completely unreasonable. He caused the accident, but he kept shouting like the victim.

A crowd quickly gathered around us.

Someone gasped. "I've seen that car on TV. Only 50 exist worldwide, and it's worth ten million dollars! That's a real billionaire's ride."

Another person shook his head. "That guy driving the cheap electric car is finished. He'll lose everything paying for this."

Someone else sighed sympathetically. "People who can afford cars like that have unimaginable power. Even if they're wrong,