Chapter 2

When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were so weak I could barely stand.

My daughter,Belle, was covered in bandages, lying silently and unmoving in the ICU.

The traffic police showed me photos from the scene.

Chloe and two other girls looked like broken dolls, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, white shirts soaked crimson.

The doctor said she’d had a brush with hell, just barely made it.

After three days of keeping vigil byBelle’s side, I received a call from her school. The driver’s parents wanted to meet.

I arrived at the school to find a man in an expensive suit scrolling on his phone on the sofa. He barely lifted an eyelid, saying casually,

"You must beBelle’s dad. Have a seat."

As he spoke, Mr. Sterling handed me a legal waiver.

"Don't waste time. Just sign it. Don't mess with my son's future."

He was so arrogant, so entitled.

Overwhelming rage threatened to consume what little sanity I had left.

The image ofBelle, drenched in blood, kept flashing in my mind.

I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling violently. I tore the so-called waiver into pieces and threw them at his face.

"Your son is unforgivable. Dream on!"

I instinctively lunged at him, throwing a punch, wanting to smash this man in front of me to pieces too!

How dare the perpetrator act so high and mighty, so rude!

But the school teachers quickly held me back, acting as if they were blind.

"Mr. David, please calm down. Blake’s parents are sincerely here to seek your understanding."

Mr. Sterling gently brushed the paper scraps from his face, his eyes full of arrogant mockery.

"I’ve looked into it. Your daughter only wears clothes that cost a few hundred bucks to school, no brands. I guess your family is just working-class."

"The law says compensation for a fatality is barely a million. And your daughter isn't even dead. How about two million, plus medical expenses?"

"Two million for a family like yours must be a fortune. Saving a hundred thousand a year would take twenty years. Getting two million from one car accident is both my goodwill and your family’s luck. What more could you possibly want? Don’t be so greedy."

I stared at him with boundless hatred and murderous intent, my whole body trembling as I yelled:

"Your son was drunk driving and speeding on a pedestrian street, causing three serious injuries and dozens of minor ones! He deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison!"

Mr. Sterling feigned a raised eyebrow, then curved his lips into a sneer.

"Ever heard the saying, money can solve everything? Besides, I have power backing me. Otherwise, why isn't there a single ripple about this incident online? Because I..."

He raised his hand and made a downward pressing motion.

"Paid people to suppress it."

As he spoke, he flashed an exclusive black card again, his pride and arrogance fully on display.

"Know what this is? A top-tier global black card. Only those with assets in the hundreds of billions qualify. It’s a number you’ll never even imagine in your lifetime."

Seeing the familiar, unique pattern on the black card, my already shattered heart plummeted. That was the supplementary card I'd given my wife, Valerie!

Now, Valerie’s lover wants to use the card I gave him to buy off my daughter’s life!

Memories flooded back clearly:

A month ago, Valerie had asked for a birthday gift, wanting an expensive car. I agreed. The model matched the one that hit my daughter.

Three days ago, the head of PR said Valerie, Ms. Valerie, needed help controlling public opinion.

WithBelle injured, I was too distraught to care and silently agreed.

In that instant, a metallic taste filled my throat, but I swallowed it back. My eyes were murderous, my voice chilling.

"Then how much is your son's life worth? Name your price. I'll buy it."