She Blamed My Car for His Grades

I had kindly driven my neighbor's son to and from school for a whole year. After his final grades came out, she showed up with her entire family, blocking my garage.

She slapped a claim for fifteen thousand dollars into my hand, pointed a finger at my nose, and yelled, My son was a genius! But your crappy car jolted his brain so bad, it's ruined! You're not leaving this garage until you pay up!

I stared at the familiar official seal on the claim form and let out a cold laugh.

She had no idea that the owner of that assessment center was my uncle.

Not only that, I also knew the real reason her son's grades plummeted: she'd taken five thousand dollars meant for his tutoring and spent it all on tipping a sexy male streamer.

Trying to extort me? I'm about to make you lose everything you have, and leave you with nothing.

The underground garage was dimly lit, reeking of a musty smell that never saw sunlight.

I'd just parked my car in my designated spot, and hadn't even unbuckled my seatbelt when three figures suddenly darted out from behind a supporting pillar nearby.

They surrounded my car, blocking the front and cutting off all my exits.

Leading the charge was my dear neighbor, Brenda Hayes.

She was wearing a full face of makeup today, her lipstick a dark, bold shade, her feet clad in four-inch stilettos, and in her hand, she clutched a stack of stark white papers.

Trailing behind her were her husband, David Hayes, who usually greeted everyone with a smile but now had a grim expression, and her mother-in-law, Martha Hayes, notorious in the neighborhood for being an absolute pain.

"Sophia Miller! Get out of that car right now!"

Brenda's shrill voice exploded in the empty garage, echoing piercingly and making my eardrums ache.

I frowned, not getting out immediately. Instead, I lowered my window halfway and stared at her coldly.

"Brenda, what the hell is wrong with you, yelling like this so late at night?"

"What's wrong with *me*?" Brenda let out an exaggerated, cold laugh, storming closer to my car window. She raised her hand and slapped the stack of papers against my windshield with a loud smack.

"Open your eyes and look at what you've done! My perfectly fine son, you utterly ruined him!"

Martha, seeing this, immediately scurried closer. Her bony fingers, dry like tree branches, almost poked through the window gap and into my nose.

"You evil, cold-hearted woman! We trusted you so much, letting you drive our Leo every day! What were your intentions? Do you hate that you can't have kids, so you're jealous of our Leo's intelligence and deliberately messed with him on the road?"

I took a deep breath, suppressing the anger surging in my chest, pushed open the car door, and stepped out.

On the windshield, the white A4 paper was almost blinding. The bold, enlarged title at the top screamed, as if desperate for attention:

*"Compensation Details for Brain Nerve Damage and Intellectual Developmental Delay Caused by Prolonged Vehicle Jolting."*

I looked at that line of text and laughed, enraged. Reaching out, I yanked the paper off and scanned it under the garage's dim light.

The categories listed were even more detailed than a hospital bill.

One-time compensation for intellectual damage: $7,000.

Parental emotional distress: $3,000.

Follow-up brain rehabilitation and nutrition costs: $2,000.

Lost future prospects from failing to get into an elite prep school: $3,000.

The last line was heavily circled in red:

Total: Fifteen Thousand Dollars.

I looked up at Brenda's face, slightly twisted from extreme agitation.

"Fifteen thousand? Brenda, are you trying to extort me, or are you just dreaming in broad daylight?"

Brenda crossed her arms, chin held high, looking smug, as if she had me cornered.

"Extortion? Sophia, don't you dare make baseless accusations! It's all in black and white. This is an official assessment from the most authoritative professional institution in the state! Our Leo used to get perfect scores on every test; he was an absolute prodigy! But ever since he started riding in your clunky car, getting jolted around every day... now his final exam results are out, and he got a D in math! A D! Can you believe it?! The doctor even said it's because of long-term violent jolting, causing severe attention deficit and irreversible brain nerve damage! If you don't pay up, you're not taking another step out of this garage today!"

In the garage, quite a few neighbors who had just gotten home from work had stopped.

Some rolled down their car windows, peeking out to watch the drama. Others simply turned off their engines and stood a short distance away, pointing and whispering.

Brenda, seeing the crowd grow, seemed to gain instant confidence. Her voice soared even higher, turning into a full-blown, theatrical performance.

"Everyone, judge for yourselves! I was kind enough to let her take my child along the way, and she, in turn, drove like a maniac, scrambling my son's brain! Now his future is ruined, and she won't even say sorry, trying to avoid paying!"

A few hushed whispers immediately rose from the crowd.

"Wow, can a car ride really mess up someone's brain? Never heard of that."

"Who knows, kids these days are so delicate. But driving someone else's kid, it really does seem like no good deed goes unpunished. You just can't be a good Samaritan anymore."

"Fifteen thousand dollars, Sophia's really unlucky to end up with a neighbor like this."

David chimed in at the right moment, his face stern, feigning reasonableness and concern for the bigger picture.

"Sophia, we're all neighbors in the building, we see each other every day. We don't want to make things too ugly, and we definitely don't want to go to court. But this situation, it's clearly all your fault. Just pay the fifteen thousand dollars without a fuss, and we'll pretend nothing happened. We can still say hello when we see each other."

Friends? Say hello?

I looked at this utterly hypocritical trio, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach.

This entire year, how much had I helped their family?

Rain or shine, if Brenda said, "I'm getting my hair done, I'll be late, can you wait a bit longer?" I'd have to wait for Leo in the cold outside the school for half an hour.

Leo would eat messy cookies and drink sticky sodas in my car, leaving crumbs and spills everywhere, and I never said a harsh word. I just quietly paid to get the car detailed myself.

Now, because her son isn't studying, his grades dropped, and they blame it on my car being too bumpy, damaging his brain?

I lowered my gaze, looking at the so-called "Compensation Details" again.

My eyes slowly moved down, finally landing on the blue stamp in the bottom right corner.

Blue Sky Children's Development Assessment Center.

I paused.

Then, an irrepressible cold smirk curved my lips.

Blue Sky Assessment Center?

What a coincidence.

The big boss behind this institution was none other than my uncle, Richard Miller.

I had just been to his office last month, enjoying some excellent coffee. At the time, he was complaining to me that too many people were counterfeiting their institution's official seal to scam people, severely damaging their reputation. Their legal department was about to team up with the police for a large-scale arrest.

Brenda, seeing me smile at the stamp, thought I was stunned into silence. She advanced triumphantly.

"What? What are you laughing at? Nothing to say, huh? Sophia, I advise you to pay up quickly. Otherwise, I'll post this in the residents' SnapChat group, and the school parents' group! I'll let everyone know what a cold-blooded, heartless person you are!"

I slowly folded the paper and calmly slipped it into my designer bag.

"Alright."

Brenda froze, seemingly unprepared for my reaction. "What did you say?"

I looked at her, every word clear and forceful. "I said, alright. Post it wherever you want, go viral if you wish. But Brenda, I'm making myself clear right here and right now. I won't give you a single cent, not a single dime of that fifteen thousand. Not only will I not pay, but I'll make you pay a price you can't afford for this worthless piece of paper."

With that, I turned, got back into my car, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

I started the engine, shifted into gear, and floored the accelerator.

The three-hundred-horsepower engine instantly let out a beastly roar, and the tires screeched against the epoxy floor of the underground garage.

David and Martha shrieked, their faces pale, scrambling to hide behind a nearby pillar.

Brenda, retreating too quickly in her high heels, twisted her ankle and fell hard on the ground, her perfectly made-up face instantly contorted in pain.

I rolled down my window, coldly tossing out a warning: "If you're not afraid to die, keep blocking my car with your body."

Then, I swerved the steering wheel, my car brushing past their clothes as I drove away.

In my rearview mirror, Brenda frantically picked herself up from the ground, pointing and cursing at my taillights like a complete banshee.

I activated my car's Bluetooth and called Mr. Jenkins, the property manager.

"Mr. Jenkins, underground garage, Zone B, spot 102. Someone was causing trouble and blocking my vehicle. Please immediately retrieve the last ten minutes of surveillance footage and preserve it exactly as is. If a single second is missing, I'll hold you accountable."

Hanging up, I took a deep breath of the cool air in the car.

The war had just begun.