He spotted me. I saw his eyes lock onto my faded clothes and the trash bags in my hands. A malicious spark ignited in his expression. It wasn’t enough for him to simply exist in his wealth; he needed to ensure that I felt my poverty.
Instead of driving straight to his spot, Richard yanked the steering wheel hard. The Ferrari’s rear tires broke traction with a violent, ear-piercing shriek.
The car swung in a terrifying, aggressive arc, hurtling directly toward me.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I tried to step back, but the heavy bags threw me off balance. Richard slammed the accelerator, initiating a tight, aggressive drift that circled me like a predator toying with a wounded bird.
The heat radiating from the engine washed over my legs. A thick, choking cloud of white tire smoke billowed into the air. The rear wheels kicked up a spray of loose gravel and sharp asphalt debris, peppering my shins and arms.
I coughed violently as the smoke filled my lungs. The ground seemed to tilt beneath me, and my knees gave out. I fell hard onto the rough asphalt, the impact jarring my spine. The plastic bags tore open against the pavement, scattering dozens of empty bottles beneath the Ferrari’s spinning tires.
Richard completed the drift with a final, deafening rev, slamming on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt just two feet from where I sat on the ground.
For a moment, the only sound was the heavy idling of the exhaust and the soft plastic clatter of the bottles rolling across the asphalt. My palms were scraped and bleeding slightly, the sting radiating up my arms.
Then, the laughter started.
Chase and the other boys standing by the cars pointed at me, howling with amusement. Trent, in the passenger seat, was clutching his stomach, tears of mirth in his eyes.
The driver’s side window rolled down with a smooth electronic hum. Richard Sterling leaned his head out. His tailored polo shirt was crisp and pristine, completely untouched by the dirt he had just thrown in my face. He looked down at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust.
“You’re blocking my spot, Ella,” Richard said, his voice laced with venom.
I remained on the ground, my chest heaving as I tried to clear the dust from my throat. I looked up at him, my silence seeming to agitate him further.
“Are you deaf?” Richard snapped, a cruel smile twisting his lips. He leaned further out the window, his gaze dropping to the scattered plastic bottles. He spat on the ground, the saliva landing mere inches from my knee. “Pick up your garbage and get out of my sight, you useless trash.”
He didn’t wait for my response. He rolled the window up and tapped the horn, a sharp, dismissive command.
I didn’t move.
The pain in my hands was fading, replaced by a cold, crystalline clarity. For months, I had debated whether Charles Sterling could salvage his company if I gave him the time. I had wondered if destroying the father would unfairly punish the son.
Looking at Richard’s cruel, entitled sneer through the tinted glass, I knew the answer. The rot in the Sterling family ran all the way down to the roots. There would be no salvation for them. There would be no extension.
I reached into the pocket of my faded blue apron. My fingers bypassed the crumpled napkins and closed firmly around the heavy, cold metal of my encrypted smartphone.
The test was over.
CHAPTER 2
The heavy afternoon heat seemed to amplify the silence in the parking lot. The laughter from Richard’s friends had subsided into amused, expectant murmurs. They were waiting for me to scramble on my hands and knees, to hurriedly scoop up the plastic bottles like a frightened peasant yielding to royalty.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t reach for a single bottle.