Michael's stunt today had made a spectacle right outside the building, dealing real damage to the company's image. My boss hadn't said anything, but there was no way he was happy about it.
Michael's eyes darted, and he adopted a magnanimous pose, as if he were doing me a favor.
"How about this. What's done is done. Talking in circles won't change anything."
"Give me a hundred thousand dollars. Consider it my father's medical bills and emotional damages. We can settle the ongoing care costs separately..."
He rattled on and on, and I nearly laughed out loud.
So this was his real game all along.
He was trying to shake me down.
"My grandfather didn't hit anyone. I'm not paying a cent."
"You know perfectly well what really happened to your father. Don't try to scam me!"
I shot them a cold glance and let out a scoff.
"You say my grandfather hit someone? Then show me proof. Nobody's going to take your word for it."
The moment the words left my mouth, Michael Young's face twisted with rage.
A vein bulged at his temple. He drew his leg back and kicked me hard in the stomach.
"You think I'd come after you without proof?!"
"Plate number 0817. You gonna tell me that's not your grandfather's car?"