?Chapter 207:


    With that, Christina hung up and fired off her location to Dn, making sure to mention it was Chloe’s custom pink supact—impossible to miss.


    As she tapped out the message, the irritable man snapped beside her, “Can you move it along? How much longer is this going to take? We’re in a hurry!”


    The female traffic officer shot him a withering look as she stated firmly, “You drove without valid insurance. Byw, we have to impound your car.”


    The man scowled, clearly itching for a fight. If not for the male traffic officer standing nearby, he might’ve done something far worse. “Unbelievable—just my luck to run into this fucking bitch!” he spat and then kicked his car in frustration.


    Christina smirked inwardly. Driving without insurance and daring to cause trouble on the road—he deserved it. Guys like him always assumed they could push women around, figuring the worst that could happen was a p on the wrist.and a small payout. Sure, a lot of women might have backed down and let themselves get trampled. But he wasn’t so lucky today—he’d tangled with the wrong woman.


    Momentster, a car rolled up to the curb. A suited man in his fifties, sses perched on his nose and a build unremarkable, hurried out and crossed the street with nervous strides. He was the insurancepany’s manager, summoned urgently by his superior, who’d warned him that this was no ordinary im—today’s client was someone the entirepany couldn’t afford to upset.


    Panting from his dash, the manager mopped sweat from his forehead, scanning the scene. “I’m the insurance manager,” he announced, his voice slightly shaky. His eyesnded on Christina, the only woman present except the female traffic officer. “Miss Jones?”


    “That’s me,” Christina simply answered.


    The manager studied Christina for a moment, determined tomit her features to memory—he couldn’t risk crossing her in the future. Impatient, the man barked, “Where’s your assessor? Let’s move it along. I’ll give you fifty thousand. Just get the damn thing fixed already.”


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    The manager chuckled, shaking his head. “Fifty thousand? That’s funny. Last time Miss Jones’ car got a scratch, the bill was over a million. The person responsible paid every cent.”


    A million might be pocket change to the elite, but for most families, it was enough to wreck their entire lives.


    “What the hell?” The man’s jaw dropped as he spoke. “A million for a scratch? You people trying to rob me? That car isn’t worth anywhere near that!”


    The other man shot Christina a look of disbelief. “You really expect us to believe this is some luxury car? What a joke. Even highway robbers aren’t this shameless!”


    The two men had been so sure the insurancepany would tear Christina, that conniving gold-digger, apart, exposing her for the shameless scammer she was.


    But then this gray-haired man strolled in, iming to be the insurancepany’s manager—and, to their disbelief, backing up every lie she said. Now their suspicions kicked into overdrive. Who the hell was this guy? He didn’t act like a real employee of the insurancepany. For all they knew, he appeared to be some random retiree roped into ying along.


    One of the men jabbed a finger at the manager and then shot Christina a scornful re. “Who is this guy, huh? Your sugar daddy? You seriously hired some old faker to pose as an insurance manager? That’s a damn crime, you know!”


    Christina didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her voice ice-cold. “Keep spouting nonsense and I’ll see you in court.”


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