He'd delivered the shipment to the wrong address, then drove off in the opposite direction. No matter how many times I called to warn him, he never picked up. I had to arrange vehicles far ahead on his route to intercept him and recover the cargo. By the time I personally delivered it to the client, we'd already blown the deadline. I lost my temper and slapped him once.
The only reason the company kept that client was because I gave away the entire shipment for free, not even covering the cost price, and quietly made up the difference out of my own year-end bonus.
From start to finish, I never ran him off the road. I only blocked his path to stop the delivery from going further astray.
Cecil deliberately twisted the story, claiming I'd tried to run him off the highway. It was pure spite. A vindictive lie.
But none of that mattered now.
In the backseat, my father-in-law's face had turned a deep, mottled purple. He looked like he could lose consciousness at any second.
This was no time for grudges.
I jabbed the window button and leaned out, shouting at the top of my lungs. "Gretchen! Your dad is in my car! I need to get him to a hospital! Move!"