Smashing My Car Bankrupted Their Boss Chapter 2

The words hung in the humid night air. For three seconds, the food park was dead silent.

And then, the cacophony of jeers and mocking laughter erupted, sharper and more vicious than before.

"Four and a half million?"

"Why stop there? Why not say it was worth a billion?"

Todd doubled over, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, while the vendors behind him didn't even try to hide their disdain.

"What was in that little wooden box, huh? The ashes of a saint? Even a solid gold casket wouldn't cost that much!"

I clenched my fists so tight my nails cut half-moons into my skin. I knew that explaining anything to this mob was like playing the violin to a herd of cattle.

The box itself wasn't the treasure, though the antique wood was valuable. It was what lay nestled in the velvet inside.

An exquisite, vintage set of imperial green emerald jewelry. It was the centerpiece of a Sotheby's auction, a gift I had meticulously tracked down and purchased for my mother's upcoming 60th birthday. There wasn't another set like it in the world. Buying it required more than just liquid capital; it required deep-rooted connections in the high-society art world.

The moment the courier had delivered it to my hotel, I had transferred it into a custom rosewood humidor-style box, a wood my mother loved for its calming scent.

And now, the jewelry, the box, the gift—everything was gone.

Todd wiped his nose with the back of his hand and exhaled another cloud of smoke. "Alright, I'm done wasting breath on you. You've got two choices. One: move the car."

"Right now. Not a second later."

"Two: you compensate me for my lost revenue tonight!"

I glanced around the claustrophobic space. "Moving the car is impossible."

Even if the car wasn't totaled and I actually wanted to move it, there was nowhere to go. The narrow aisles between the trucks were packed with folding tables, generators, and a sea of pedestrians. It would be hard enough to walk out, let alone drive.

Todd wasn't surprised by my answer. In fact, he looked thrilled. He turned around and grabbed a digital calculator from his prep counter.

"Fine. You won't move, so let's tally up the damages!"

"I'll be generous and just use my average Saturday night net profit."

"That's a solid twelve hundred an hour."

"Times six hours of the dinner rush!"

"Just for the lost revenue, you owe me seven thousand, two hundred dollars!"

His thick fingers aggressively punched the buttons on the calculator, the loud beep, beep, beep grating against my ears.

"Let's add in the spoiled inventory, the labor for my cousins, and my emotional distress..."

He shoved the calculator screen an inch from my nose. The digital red numbers blared in the dark.

"Fifteen grand!"

He raised an eyebrow, a triumphant, ugly grin spreading across his face. "Now let me ask you—are you still mad I smashed your little toy car?"

"Your ride is worth maybe seven k, but you owe me double that right now."

He pulled a laminated QR code from a lanyard around his neck. "Venmo, CashApp, Zelle. Hell, I'll even take Apple Pay."

The crowd murmured, their eyes raking over my appearance. Because I had literally run the last half-mile to get here, my hair was disheveled, my blouse was wrinkled, and I was sweating. I looked like a mess, a far cry from a Fortune 500 executive.

"She looks broke. Probably gonna have to max out a credit card!"

"Todd, look at her. You really think she's good for fifteen grand?"

Todd cleared his throat loudly. "If she can't pay, then we'll just have the cops sort it out."

I tightened my grip on my phone, my expression turning to ice. "Then we'll wait for the police."

"And when they—"

"What the fuck?! Where is my car?!"

Before I could finish, a booming, frantic voice tore through the crowd.