“Hahaha — I see a lot of country bumpkins, and you paying twenty million? I bet you’d struggle to come up with two thousand,” he jeered.
“Think you can bribe us to let you go? No chance,” he continued. “Today you either leave the money here, or you watch your old man die on that transport.”
Hearing him call my grandfather an “old man” — as if he were worthless — snapped something inside me. I stepped forward and stared straight into Frank’s eyes.
“The Neal family?” I repeated, letting the incredulity be plain in my voice. “Go find out what happens when you cross the Shaw family.”
A woman’s voice cut in, flat and superior. A woman climbed gracefully out of the Maybach and walked over. She tossed her hair and looked at me with pure disdain.
“So you want the Neal family to detour for you?” she asked, voice silk over steel. “Maybe Frank’s a little blunt, but he’s not wrong. In Los Angeles, nobody dares make way for the Neal Corporation.”
Frank preened. “See? What do you want to do about it, kid? This car is our heiress’s custom ride. Two million is cheap for you.”
My fists tightened until my knuckles ached. “I already said: if the police determine I’m at fault, I’ll pay. Two million, twenty million — name it. But you move this car now. A life is at stake.”
Frank barked a derisive laugh. “A life at stake? Let me tell you, in this city, the Neal family is the sky itself.”
The woman’s smile grew cruel. “You probably don’t even know who I am. I’m Victoria Neal, sole heir to the Neal fortune.”
“Today is my grandfather’s Birthday Gala,” she added, voice dripping with entitlement. “If you, some backwater bumpkin, ruin it, you won’t be able to bear the consequences. I think—”
I cut her off with a cold laugh. “Whoever you are, if someone on that transport dies because of your stunt, you’ll be the one who can’t bear the consequences.”
“Maybe call your grandfather,” I said. “Ask him if he knows a Michael Shaw.”
Victoria’s smile froze for a heartbeat — an expression so quick it might have been missed if you weren’t watching closely.
“What an attitude!” she cried. “No one has had the gall to talk like this to the Neals in years. That ambulance is carrying your grandfather? Some old coot from the sticks dares put himself on the same level as my family?”
“I’ll make sure that old coot dies on that ambulance today and see what you do about it,” she hissed.
Rush-hour traffic on the elevated freeway was already a mess; the rear-end crash turned everything into a complete standstill. Cars piled up for miles, and a few drivers stepped out to gawk.
“This kid really doomed himself,” someone murmured. “You can’t go against the Neal family. Now the heiress said no one will move — his grandfather’s done for.”
“Too bad, he should’ve known better. An ambulance using the emergency lane is natural; private cars have no right to be there.”
“You don’t get it. That’s the Neal family — they could fly if they wanted. What can we do?”
Their whispers fed Frank’s arrogance. He leaned in, grin wide. “So? What are you going to do now, kid?”
