Chapter 208
208:
The man just scoffed, puffing out his chest. “Oh, please—take me to court, why don’t you? Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Unfazed, the manager swiftly produced his official credentials, flipping them open for everyone to see. “I’m really the insurance manager. Feel free to double-check my identity.” He leveled a calm stare at the man. “Miss Jones’ car is valued at nearly ten million. If that’s not a luxury car, what is?”
Before the man could work himself up into another fit, a fleet of insurance staff and assessors poured onto the scene. After a quick but thorough inspection, the damage assessment came back: the repairs would cost roughly two million.
“Two million?” The man practically staggered, hand clamped to his chest, veins bulging with outrage. “You may as well be holding me at gunpoint! Repairs aren’t worth a fraction of that! You’re all running some kind of scam!”
The other man’s paranoia dialed up even higher, shooting wary glances at the traffic officers. “I’ll bet those ‘officers’ aren’t even real! I’m calling the actual police—this is obviously a whole criminal setup!” He whipped out his phone and made the call, his voice ringing with righteous fury. In the end, they were all hauled off to the precinct, confusion trailing in their wake.
Christina finished her statement and stepped out of the station just as her car was being hauled off for repairs. Now all she could do was wait for the final bill.
Meanwhile, the two men watched their own car get impounded and then found themselves cooling off in holding cells.
Christina didn’t bother herself with the fallout—Dylan’s team would clean up the mess behind the scenes. She waited outside the station, the late afternoon sunlight glinting off her hair as she scrolled through her phone, watching for her ride.
A sleek black van glided to a stop at the curb. The driver hopped out, and before Christina could react, Dylan emerged as well, his sharp gaze finding her instantly. She couldn’t hide her surprise.
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“Shouldn’t you be at work? What are you doing here?” she asked with a soft smile.
Dylan’s eyes flicked away. The real reason was written all over his face—he’d been too anxious about her to get anything done today—but he’d never admit that. “Just happened to be in the area,” he muttered, his jaw set. “Thought I’d pick you up.”
He instantly regretted how stiff he sounded, a flicker of annoyance tightening his brow.
“If it’s out of your way, I can just grab a cab,” Christina suggested, trying to ease the tension.
“It’s not.” His answer was curt.
They hopped into the car. The silence between them stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
Moments later, Dylan cleared his throat and spoke. “Want me to handle those idiots for you?”
Christina’s lips curved into a practiced smile, though something darkened behind her eyes. “Don’t bother. It’s not worth your time.” She had already handled everything—those vile, foul-mouthed men would soon be paying the price. She’d laced their drinks with something nasty: not fatal, but cruel enough to make them beg for mercy. Soon, their bodies would rot from the inside out, reeking like garbage left in the summer sun.
Dylan fell silent, his expression clouded. After a beat, he let out a low sigh. “You don’t always have to let people off easy.”
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