Chapter 4

At the club’s entrance, Vanessa’s shrill voice attracted numerous customers in the lobby, who stopped to watch.

They peered curiously, their looks of disdain undisguised as they fell upon me.

It was as if I truly were a scoundrel trying to skip out on a bill.

“Someone trying to skip out at Haitian Auto Club? Must have a death wish!”

“Tsk, tsk, dressed so nicely, but doing something so disgraceful…”

“If you can’t afford Haitian, don’t come. How embarrassing.”

Being publicly shamed like this, having fingers pointed at me, sent a surge of fury straight to my head.

Daniel, standing nearby, was pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“Vanessa… maybe we should just drop it…”

He tugged at Vanessa’s sleeve, his voice weak, seemingly trying to persuade her not to push things too far.

Vanessa glared at him, her eyes wide.

“Daniel, can’t you grow a spine? The money’s almost in our hands, and you want to give it back? Should we keep teaching these poor relatives a lesson again and again?”

Daniel trembled, swallowed the words he was about to say, and shrank back, daring not to speak again.

His spineless demeanor ignited my anger further, cementing my complete disappointment in him.

With a cold expression, I pulled out my phone and called my assistant.

“Chris, grab fifty thousand in cash from the car and bring it to the main entrance immediately.”

Before long, Chris, my assistant, swiftly approached, carrying a heavy silver suitcase. I motioned for him to open it.

With a *click*, the lid sprang open, revealing stacks of hundred-dollar bills neatly arranged inside—a powerful visual impact.

A collective gasp instantly rose from the crowd, and all chatter ceased.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide!

She clearly hadn't expected that I, her so-called “poor relative,” could so casually produce $500,000 in cash.

“I should’ve said a million! What a missed opportunity!” Vanessa mumbled, her eyes darting around, as if she’d missed out on millions.

Gazing at the cash in the suitcase, Vanessa unconsciously swallowed, her breathing quickening. She reached out, intending to close the case.

“Consider yourself smart. $280,000 here will settle the maintenance service. The extra $220,000 is for the severe damage you’ve done to our club’s reputation—consider it a compensation for emotional distress!”

“Wait.”

I placed my hand on the lid, stopping her.

Vanessa instantly grew wary: “What? Trying to back out?”

“You can take the money.” I stared at her, my gaze sharp. “But you have to sign a receipt, clear in black and white.”

Daniel, beside her, suddenly jolted, finally realizing that the situation had spiraled beyond his control.

He frantically stepped forward, grabbing Vanessa’s arm, his voice pleading:

“Vanessa, you can’t sign it! We can’t take this money! Give it back to Alex!”

“Get lost, you pathetic excuse for a man!” Vanessa flung him away, glaring at him with disgust. “Money in hand, and you want to spit it out? Why would I give it back? He owes it! I’ll sign it, so no one can deny it. It’s settled, cash for services.”

She was blinded by greed, completely deaf to any advice.

Snatching a pen and paper from a nearby staff member, she signed "Vanessa Reed" with a flourish without a second thought, even pressing her red fingerprint.

“Here!”

She threw the receipt at me, then eagerly snapped the case shut and clutched it tightly.

“Honey, see? I told you I had skills! $500,000! This money is all mine for my personal stash! I’ve been eyeing that limited edition Hermès bag, but I never splurged. Now I can finally get it!” Vanessa gushed, linking arms with Daniel, her voice sickeningly sweet.

She was completely immersed in the euphoria of undeserved wealth and the anticipation of luxury goods, her face radiant with happiness.

Just as Vanessa was pulling Daniel away, the screech of tires echoed from outside the entrance.

Three pure black business vans, emblazoned with the Haitian Group emblem, pulled up to the entrance.