Chapter 2

In the garage, quite a few neighbors who had just gotten home from work had stopped.

Some rolled down their car windows, peeking out to watch the drama. Others simply turned off their engines and stood a short distance away, pointing and whispering.

Brenda, seeing the crowd grow, seemed to gain instant confidence. Her voice soared even higher, turning into a full-blown, theatrical performance.

"Everyone, judge for yourselves! I was kind enough to let her take my child along the way, and she, in turn, drove like a maniac, scrambling my son's brain! Now his future is ruined, and she won't even say sorry, trying to avoid paying!"

A few hushed whispers immediately rose from the crowd.

"Wow, can a car ride really mess up someone's brain? Never heard of that."

"Who knows, kids these days are so delicate. But driving someone else's kid, it really does seem like no good deed goes unpunished. You just can't be a good Samaritan anymore."

"Fifteen thousand dollars, Sophia's really unlucky to end up with a neighbor like this."

David chimed in at the right moment, his face stern, feigning reasonableness and concern for the bigger picture.

"Sophia, we're all neighbors in the building, we see each other every day. We don't want to make things too ugly, and we definitely don't want to go to court. But this situation, it's clearly all your fault. Just pay the fifteen thousand dollars without a fuss, and we'll pretend nothing happened. We can still say hello when we see each other."

Friends? Say hello?

I looked at this utterly hypocritical trio, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach.

This entire year, how much had I helped their family?

Rain or shine, if Brenda said, "I'm getting my hair done, I'll be late, can you wait a bit longer?" I'd have to wait for Leo in the cold outside the school for half an hour.

Leo would eat messy cookies and drink sticky sodas in my car, leaving crumbs and spills everywhere, and I never said a harsh word. I just quietly paid to get the car detailed myself.

Now, because her son isn't studying, his grades dropped, and they blame it on my car being too bumpy, damaging his brain?

I lowered my gaze, looking at the so-called "Compensation Details" again.

My eyes slowly moved down, finally landing on the blue stamp in the bottom right corner.

Blue Sky Children's Development Assessment Center.

I paused.

Then, an irrepressible cold smirk curved my lips.

Blue Sky Assessment Center?

What a coincidence.

The big boss behind this institution was none other than my uncle, Richard Miller.