running late for your shoot, you instructed your chauffeur to drive faster. everything was fine until—thud!—your car collided with another.

“what have you done?” you snapped.

“ma’am, the car in front stopped suddenly,” he explained nervously.

frustrated, you stepped out of your pearl-white bugatti chiron to inspect the damage. scratches marred the sleek surface, worsening your already stressful day. without hesitation, you stormed to the other car—a black rolls royce phantom—kicked its bumper, and shouted, “get out here and explain yourself!”

the door opened, and out stepped a tall woman in a tailored pantsuit, composed and unbothered.

“look what you’ve done!” you said, pointing to the scratches.

she glanced at your car, her expression cool. “if you paid attention to traffic lights, this wouldn’t have happened.”

you stared, stunned by her audacity. “do you even know who i am?”

“no,” she replied flatly, as if the answer was irrelevant.

your temper flared. “those scratches are your fault. either you pay for this, or i’ll sue you.”

her lips curved into a sharp, taunting smirk. “then sue me. i dare you.”

without another word, she pulled a business card from her pocket and tossed it at you. “see you in court, little lady. or at my office, when you’re ready to admit your mistake.”

she stepped back into her car, rolled down the window, and added one last jab. “your choice.”

you watched in disbelief as she drove off, your anger simmering. finally, you bent down and picked up the card.

atty. kian cade serrano the undefeated lawyer

you clenched the card in your hand. “we’ll see about that,” you muttered, already planning your next move.