Chapter 3

"Hey, are you all right?" When Benjamin got close enough, he asked the lady.

For a while, the lady sat in silence, ignoring his question and refusing to turn back to look at him. Benjamin assumed she recognized him and was probably planning the best way to frame him. He only damaged her scooter, he told himself, and that was all he was going to pay for.

When she didn't respond, he moved in closer.

"I asked, are you okay?" he said, tapping her on the shoulder.

She then turned around, her eyes moist.

"Do I look okay to you?" she asked, her lips curled.

"You just wrecked my scooter and now you're asking if I'm okay. You know what, I'm overjoyed. Can 't you see I'm happy?" she said, a little sarcastically at the end.

When Benjamin heard her speak, he assumed she was one of them because she was making a big deal out of nothing. As a result, he abandoned her and began walking to his car. He wanted to get a large sum of money and stash it in her hands so she could repair her damaged scooter.

"Hey, mister!" the lady exclaimed as he began to walk away.

She got off her scooter and followed him to the roadside when he wouldn't stop.

Then she grabbed his right arm before he could open his car door.

He responded by yanking his arms from her grip. Then he pointed at her and said, "Look, I'm not here to cause a commotion. "I apologize for causing damage to your scooter."

He then opened his door, reached into his glove compartment, and pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills.

""Take it, and go fix your little thingy," he said in an egocentric manner.

When he said this, she burst out laughing for about a minute.

"Rich people," she said again, continuing to laugh while holding her stomach.

"Are you going to take the money or not? I don't have time to waste," Benjamin said, his tone slightly raised.

He was growing tired of the drama she was putting on.

"And you think I've got a lot of free time?" She inquired, raising her left brow.

She then wiped away the tears that had formed as a result of her laughter. Then she motioned towards her scooter and said,

"My mother spent a month sewing that dress, and it's due to arrive this morning," she says.

"That's not even the issue; do you know who owns that gown?" she inquired, her gaze returning to him

Benjamin shrugged, uninterested in what she was arguing about.

She responded, "Mrs. Caliwell."

Benjamin's eyes widened as he heard his mother's name. Then he cleared his throat.

"And what's the problem if the outfit belongs to Mrs. Caliwell?" he inquired.

"What's the matter? You're wondering what's wrong? This is unbelievable," she said, with creased brows.

"Wait until I tell her you delayed the delivery of her all-white party dress. When she finds out you destroyed my mode of transportation, your ass will be busted," she said, pulling out her phone to photograph his license plate and the accident scene.

He realized at that point that the woman knew nothing about him. She thought he was just another lucky townie, but he was actually Benjamin Caliwell.

Grabbing her hand to prevent her from taking any more photos, he said

"Hey, hey, that's not necessary."

"Unhand me immediately, or I'll scream and the people will come out, and you know what that means," she said to him as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

"Does that pose a threat?" Benjamin inquired.

"Dare me to find out," she said, her gaze fixed on him.

He then let go of her hand, and she turned away with her arms crossed, tapping her right foot on the ground in rage.

"Look, I told you I didn't want to make a fuss. Get into the car with the box.Show me the way to Mrs. Caliwell's, and I'll take you there," he told her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, with her eyes wide.

The rich always got their way, and all she'd said before were threats she knew wouldn't work. But now he was offering to take her there.

"I'm so smart." She said to herself.

She tried not to sound surprised—it was the right thing to do—but they lived in a biased society, so most of the time when someone did the expected, they were looked upon like a Samaritan.

"I'll go get the package," she said as she approached her scooter.

She rolled the broken-down scooter out of the path and secured it to a tree. She then took the clothes box from the back of the scooter and walked back to Benjamin's car, where he was waiting. He drove her to his house while she sat in the back seat.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the large gate with the inscription "CALIWELL" .

"You should pull over here," she advised him before he honked at the gate.

"Why?" he asked, his lips pursed.

He was about to honk to show her that he was Benjamin Caliwell, but she responded before he could.

"I've heard Mr. Caliwell Jr. has a bad temper and is very arrogant,"

"Well, you sure know a lot about someone you don't even know in person," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Beats me, rumours never lie," she shrugged back.

"I heard his wife died about two years ago, and he still hasn't recovered. If you ask me, he's just being stupid; after all, being stupid isn't an excuse for being..."

"Nobody asked for your opinion!" he exclaimed, raising his voice slightly.

Startled by his reaction, she realized she was taking the conversation too far, and he probably didn't want to get involved in something that'd get him in trouble.

"Here, take it," he said as he handed her the dollar bills.

"I...."

"I told you to take it because you'd need transportation. I won't be here to meet Caliwell Jr. and his mother," he said sarcastically in anger.