Her Lover Offered Money, I Demanded Blood

My daughter was hit by an entitled rich kid speeding on a pedestrian walkway. He was drunk.

Multiple rib fractures, and her thigh bone was shattered. She’s still in a coma.

His parents want to settle.

He was arrogant, utterly self-righteous:

“Sign this legal waiver. Don’t ruin my son’s future.”

Rage burned away my sanity. I grabbed the waiver and slapped it across his face.

“You wish!”

Mr. Sterling smirked, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.

“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?”

As he spoke, he pulled out a bank card, a smug look on his face.

“Don’t recognize it, do you? This is an exclusive global black card.”

My eyes landed on the card. It had the unique pattern I knew so well. It was the birthday gift I’d given my wife.

In that instant, my eyes turned blood red with fury, a gaze that could kill.

“How much is your son’s life worth? Name your price. I’ll buy it.”