olls-Royce Owner Went Mad After Being Teased About 98-Octane Gas

Unfortunately, after he swung dozens of times, the car only had a slight scratch, with no other damage.

“Damn it, how can this damn domestic car be so tough? My hands are numb from hitting it.”

I sat in the car, leisurely playing with my phone, completely oblivious to the outside noise.

Greg Harrison hammered the car for about ten minutes, but finally ran out of energy and slunk back to his car.

The next moment, a Rolls-Royce with a plate number starting with 6-8 came barreling straight at the driver’s side.

I didn’t have time to react and only felt the world spin.

The car door was instantly dented inward.

Had this been an ordinary domestic vehicle, that crash would have likely left me either dead or severely injured.

Fortunately, the executive car assigned to my boss was bulletproof, which saved me from a fatal blow.

I moved my body a little, and apart from my legs feeling numb, I was lucky to avoid serious injury.

Unfortunately, the two bottles of premium bourbon on the passenger seat shattered into pieces.

The strong aroma of the bourbon now filled the car.

To prevent them from crashing into me again, I stumbled out of the car.

The moment they saw me, Greg Harrison rolled down the window, a smug grin on his face.

“Kid, do you admit it now?”

I couldn’t take it anymore and clenched my fists, charging at Greg.

But before I could run very far, I tripped and fell flat on the ground.

Looking back, I saw a large swollen bump on my ankle.

It must have happened when I got out of the car and lost my balance because of the numbness in my legs.

Seeing this, the onlookers immediately took out their phones, preparing to call for an ambulance.

But then, Greg suddenly waved his hand and shouted at the crowd.

“Anyone who dares to help him, you’re making an enemy of Greg Harrison. Think carefully about the consequences!”

As expected, upon hearing this, the onlookers quickly put their phones down.

Greg Harrison swaggered over, crouching in front of me.

“Kid, weren’t you pretty cocky just now? How come you're lying on the ground now?”

I gritted my teeth and glared at him.

“Greg Harrison, do you realize you just shattered my boss's bourbon?”

Greg waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s just two bottles of bourbon. It’s not like I’ve never had them. What’s the big deal?”

Struggling, I got up and pointed at a nearby security camera.

“Drunk driving resulting in injury or death. According to U.S. law, the penalty could be up to twelve years in prison.”

The moment I finished, Greg scoffed loudly.

“Trying to check the cameras, huh?”

“You believe me, I can make one phone call and make this go away.”

With that, he took out his phone right in front of me.

“One million dollars. Help me erase the gas station footage.”

In just a few sentences, this drunk driving case was conveniently swept under the rug in front of everyone's eyes.

Just then, the woman who used to be my crush, Emily Green, strutted over in high heels.

“Honey, this nice guy crashed your new car. We need to make him pay!”

After a brief exchange of glances, they both immediately claimed that I had crashed into their car.

From the situation at the scene, I knew arguing would be pointless, so I gave up and stopped defending myself.

“Alright, what’s your extortion price?”

Emily Green wore a smug expression.

“Extortion? You mean you deliberately crashed into my husband’s car!”

I slowly raised my head, glaring at her.

“Enough with the nonsense, give me a price!”

“One million!”

Emily Green extended her index finger, sneering.

“And this is a friendly price, considering you used to chase after me.”