The hood of the second-hand Ford was hit with a loud bang, as Wyatt Perry sat inside the car, coldly watching the owner of the Porsche Cayenne.
He wore a thumb-thick gold chain around his neck, had big gold rings on his fingers, his hair was greasy, and his face was full of flesh, clearly an upstart with questionable manners.
Clearly, it was he who had scraped Wyatt Perry's car, yet he was the one to lodge a complaint first, accusing Wyatt of being at fault.
Wyatt didn't want to argue with him, so he took out a business card and extended his hand out of the window: "You can discuss the compensation directly with him."
Wyatt handed him Hailey Jack's business card. Surely, he wouldn't personally get involved in such a trivial matter?
The Porsche owner grabbed the card from Wyatt's hand, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it on the ground: "You scraped my car, I'll only speak with you, it has nothing to do with anyone else. Don't think I don't know you're trying to run away."
