LAUREN’S POV
After a few minutes of speaking with the receptionist, I noticed the way his shoulders sagged. His head dropped down, and he pinched the bridge of his nose like a man suddenly burdened with the weight of his own mistakes. From that single gesture, I already knew what had happened, he had seen the transfer. He must have been standing there, realizing not only how wrong he’d been, but also calculating how in the world he was going to face me after insulting me so arrogantly.
A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I didn’t need to hear words to know what was running through his head.
Slowly, he turned around, every step back toward us weighted with shame. He eventually stopped in front of us, his expression carefully controlled, though the crack in his composure was obvious. He let out a deep breath, the kind a person takes before swallowing their pride.
“We have confirmed your payment,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before.
I opened my mouth to respond, but before a single word could leave me, the man suddenly dropped to his knees.
The motion was so abrupt it made me blink in surprise. He didn’t even care about the suit he wore, pressing it against the dirty tiles. His head bowed so low it nearly touched the ground, like he was worshipping me.
“Please, ma’am,” he said, his voice shaking. “I am deeply sorry for everything I said to you and your friend since you walked in here. What I did was unforgivable, but you still decided to buy from us. Please forgive me.”
My eyebrows shot up almost instantly. I turned slightly to glance at Tessa, and the moment I did, I could see how her lips were twitching. She was practically biting the inside of her cheek to hold back her laughter. Did she really think this was funny?
To me, it was ridiculous. The manager’s apology might have been genuine, but the display was unnecessary, dramatic, even. All around us, employees were staring at him in shock, whispering quietly to each other. He had just shattered his own dignity in front of his entire staff, all to beg for forgiveness. If nothing else, I guessed he’d learned his lesson.
“Hey, please stand up,” I said, lifting my hand in a dismissive wave.
I wasn’t angry anymore annoyed, maybe, but not angry. His sudden change of attitude almost felt humiliating for me.
“You’re way older than me,” I continued, my tone firm but not unkind. “So you doing this is kind of disrespectful. My mother raised me right, and I know better than to let a man old enough to be my uncle kneel on the ground in front of me. So, please, get up.”
For a moment he stayed frozen there, still bowing, like he couldn’t believe what I was asking. Then he lifted his head slowly. His eyes were red–rimmed, like he was holding back tears. The proud, mocking man from earlier was completely gone.
“Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked hesitantly. “After what I did… I would understand if you walked straight to the COO and demanded that I be fired. But you… you even gave me two hundred thousand dollars extra. I don’t
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deserve this mercy. I deserve to stay like this and beg until you truly forgive me.”
I exhaled sharply, the sound carrying more frustration than I intended. A simple apology would have been more than enough, but instead he was making a scene in the middle of the showroom, as if I were some spoiled rich woman demanding that everyone kneel before me. This was the kind of spectacle that invited judgmental stares, and I hated it.
“I’ve heard what you said,” I replied firmly. “And to me, it looks like you’ve already learned your lesson. That’s all that matters. So yes, I forgive you. Now, please stand up.”
Relief flooded his features instantly. He pressed his palms together briefly, as if in gratitude, then finally rose to
his feet.
“Thank you so much, ma’am,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I am very grateful, and I will never forget
this day.”
“Look, just because someone is dressed in rags doesn’t always mean they are poor. At least try to hear them out and give them a chance,” I said though inside I felt slightly drained from the whole ordeal.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quickly, his tone subdued, as if every ounce of arrogance he had displayed earlier had. been washed away. He hurriedly wiped his eyes, leaving faint streaks on his cheeks, and lowered his gaze like a chastened child.
“Thank you for the gift,” he added, his voice trembling, the weight of his own shame still heavy on him. “The car is ready. Would you like a test drive?”
As he spoke, a young lady approached, her heels clicking lightly against the floor, and carefully placed the keys into his hand. He extended them toward me, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
I shook my head. “No, that wouldn’t be necessary. We’ll just be on our way, and if there’s any problem, I’ll come back here.” I accepted the keys, cool metal against my palm, and gave him a small nod.
That was the end of it. There was no need to drag this out further.
Within minutes, Tessa and I were already on our way, the sleek Toyota Century gliding forward with an elegance I had only imagined. And just as I had hoped, it was glorious.
The moment I settled into the driver’s seat, I knew this car was mine. The leather wrapped around me like a second skin, smooth and firm, the faint smell of newness filling my lungs with every breath. The steering wheel felt solid, powerful, almost humming with quiet authority beneath my fingers. The interior was beyond flawless, the kind of perfection that demanded to be admired.
I couldn’t help but smile as I pressed the accelerator and felt the engine respond in smooth, confident whispers. It wasn’t just a car; it was a statement.
“You don’t want to get a driver?” Tessa’s voice cut through my thoughts. She had been watching me the whole time, amusement clear on her face. “You do look pretty small driving the car. You can barely see the road.”
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, then back at the street ahead. She wasn’t wrong. My head was tilted slightly upward, and from the outside, I probably looked like a child trying to take control of her father’s vehicle. It was a sedan, yes, but its size was built for men who were taller and broader. And me? I was petite enough to
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make the contrast almost comical.
Still, my grip on the wheel tightened. “And what fun would that be?” I said, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “No driver for now. I can drive myself.‘
Η
“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug, though her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter.
The ride back was effortless. Every turn, every slight press of the brakes was smooth, like the car already knew where I wanted it to go before I even guided it there.
Oddly enough, Tessa stayed quiet most of the way. She didn’t bring up the conversation we were meant to continue, I knew her well enough to know she hadn’t dropped it she was just waiting. Probably until we got back home.
As I turned onto my street, my thoughts shifted to Aria. My little girl would be home in less than five minutes, and I was already imagining what I could prepare for her. Something warm, maybe sweet potatoes and eggs, or that soup she liked when she was tired.
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