Chapter 85: The Two-Million Dollar Scratch

Rick walked down the quiet, bamboo-lined corridor of the Sterling Teahouse, ignoring the frantic whispers of the staff who heard the agonizing screams echoing from the private room, since an apex predator possessed zero pity for greedy parasites.

He stepped out the sliding wooden doors into the cool evening air, adjusting the collar of his plain black t-shirt, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the VIP parking zone where he left his hypercar.

Up on the third-floor open balcony of the teahouse, Tyler thrashed on the wooden floorboards, his face bright red and blistering from the scalding tea, while Martha shrieked for a doctor, creating a chaotic scene of panic.

"That ungrateful street rat!" Martha yelled, kneeling beside her son to wipe his scalded skin with a cloth napkin. "He dared to assault my boy! I will call the police and make sure that poor peasant rots in a prison cell for the rest of his miserable life!"

Jessica stomped her high heel against the floorboards, crossing her arms in disgust. "He is just a psycho loser who got mad because he knows he can never afford my bride price, so he threw a tantrum like a wild dog!"

"I don’t need the police, I need to crush his skull!" Tyler roared through his gritted teeth, shoving his mother aside to get to his feet.

He ignored their continued wailing, as venomous rage clouded his pain-addled mind, forcing him to stagger upright and lean over the wooden railing, spotting Rick strolling casually toward the street pavement.

Driven by sheer, unhinged madness and a desperate need to avenge his shattered ego, Tyler grabbed a massive, heavy ceramic flower pot filled with dense soil resting on the balcony ledge.

He hurled the heavy ceramic pot over the edge, aiming directly at Rick’s skull, intending to crack the so-called poor hotel cook’s head open and end his life right on the pavement.

Rick’s system-enhanced senses triggered instantly, feeding his brain the exact trajectory and speed of the falling object, but he did not panic, nor did he sprint away like a frightened rabbit.

He took a casual half-step backward, as the heavy ceramic pot smashed into the concrete pavement mere inches from his heavy boots, erupting into a loud, dusty cloud of dark soil and sharp debris.

The massive impact shattered the thick ceramic into dozens of jagged shards, sending them flying outward like lethal shrapnel across the restricted VIP parking zone.

Several sharp fragments scraped hard against the side of Rick’s thirty-million-dollar matte-carbon Koenigsegg Gemera, leaving a deep, jagged white scratch across the flawless, custom dark paint.

The agonizing, ear-piercing sound of scraping carbon fiber echoed down the quiet street, ruining the multi-million dollar custom exterior in a fraction of a second.

Tyler leaned over the wooden balcony rail, laughing like a maniac, spitting blood and saliva as he pointed a shaking finger down at the street.

"You got lucky this time, you broke peasant!" Tyler roared, his voice cracking with sadistic glee, "You better watch your back, because I am going to hire men to shatter your knees and throw you in the river!"

Rick looked up at the laughing trash on the balcony, keeping his face deadpan and emotionless, as he pointed a single finger at the ruined hypercar parked beside him.

"How does your broke family plan to pay for the paint job on this hypercar?" Rick asked in a cold, carrying voice, cutting through the noise of the busy street.

"Are you trying to scare me, you broke peasant?!" Tyler laughed from the balcony, spitting blood onto the wood. "That hypercar belongs to some billionaire CEO! You probably couldn’t even afford a single tire, so stop acting like you care about a luxury machine you will never touch in your miserable life!"

A minute later, Martha, Tyler, and Jessica stormed out the front doors of the teahouse, marching straight toward Rick on the pavement, since they intended to corner him and extract every single dime he owned.

"Don’t you dare try to run away, you street rat!" Martha shrieked, pointing a stubby finger at Rick’s chest. "You are going to pay a massive fortune in medical compensation for my son’s burns, or I will use my connections to ensure you rot in a prison cell!"

"Look at him standing next to a rich man’s car trying to look tough," Tyler sneered, holding his blistered face as he stepped closer. "You better empty your bank account right now and beg on your knees."

Jessica stepped forward to join the insults, but her eyes locked onto the aggressive aerodynamic lines and the legendary shield badge resting on the hood, since she spent her days scrolling through luxury influencer pages trying to trap a wealthy husband.

"Mom... Tyler... shut your mouths right now," Jessica gasped softly, as her face turned as pale as a ghost, pointing a shaking acrylic nail at the dark vehicle. "Do you see that badge? That is a Koenigsegg Gemera! That machine costs over thirty million dollars... it is worth more than our entire neighborhood combined!"

Before Martha could even process her daughter’s panic, the teahouse manager rushed out the front doors, drawn by the loud crash of the falling pot, stopping dead in his tracks the second his eyes landed on the vehicle.

"Oh my god! What did you do?!" the manager screamed hysterically, grabbing his sparse hair as his eyes bulged out of his head, staring at the deep, jagged white scratch running down the side of the hypercar.

"He ruined a thirty-million-dollar hypercar!" the manager hyperventilated, pointing an accusing finger at Tyler. "Fixing a custom matte-carbon finish requires flying elite specialists directly from Sweden! The repair bill alone will be a minimum of two million dollars!"

Martha and Tyler laughed, crossing their arms, looking at the manager like he was a complete idiot.

"Why are you looking at us?" Tyler scoffed, nudging Rick with his shoulder. "This broke kitchen rat was standing right next to it, so make him pay for the scratch!"

Rick ignored their pathetic barking, pulling his keys from his pocket and pressing the heavy unlock button.

The Gemera’s golden lights flashed twice, and the massive dihedral doors swung upward with a smooth, heavy hydraulic hiss, exposing the ultra-luxurious leather interior.

The truth hit the Harding family like a speeding freight train, as the arrogant sneers melted off their faces in a fraction of a second, leaving them staring at the open doors in sheer, paralyzing horror.

The "poor kitchen worker" they tried to extort owned a thirty-million-dollar hypercar, proving they had eyes but failed to see Mount Tai, insulting a god-tier existence disguised in plain clothes.

Their knees buckled simultaneously, sending Martha, Tyler, and Jessica collapsing onto the hard pavement, weeping in pure terror, realizing they just incurred a massive debt their entire bloodline could never hope to pay.

A crowd of pedestrians and teahouse patrons had gathered on the pavement, drawn by the loud crash and the yelling, as they immediately began pointing fingers and mocking the groveling family.

"Look at those greedy frogs," a well-dressed businessman scoffed, crossing his arms. "They spent the last five minutes calling him a broke peasant, but he drives a hypercar!"

"That idiot boy just threw a flower pot at a literal billionaire," an older woman laughed, shaking her head in disgust. "They are dead meat, since you cannot just scratch a Koenigsegg and walk away."

"The mother was just threatening to call the cops to extort him for medical bills!" another bystander sneered, raising his phone to record the pathetic scene. "Now they are the ones crying on their knees begging for mercy! Absolute karma!"

Jessica scrambled forward on her hands and knees, ruining her tacky acrylic nails on the rough concrete, as she looked up at Rick with desperate, crying eyes.

She abandoned all her previous demands, dropping the facade of a traditional girl, offering to cancel the bride price and marry him right on the spot, trying to use her fake beauty to escape the looming financial ruin.

"I will be your wife! I don’t need a house!" Jessica sobbed, reaching out to grab his jeans, "Please, Rick! We are family!"

Rick looked down at her caked makeup and pathetic groveling with pure disgust, kicking her reaching hands away, since his harem only accepted true jade beauties, refusing to let cheap plastic trash dirty his boots.

"You have exactly one week to produce two million dollars in pure cash," Rick stated coldly, delivering his lethal ultimatum, leaving no room for negotiation.

"If the money isn’t in my account by next Friday," Rick continued, his voice dropping to a dark, ruthless register, "My corporate lawyers will seize your house, drain your bank accounts, and hand the security footage of the falling pot to the police, ensuring your brother rots in a prison cell for attempted murder."

Martha wailed loudly, clawing at her own face, while Tyler stared blankly at the scratched carbon fiber, his mind shattering under the weight of his own stupid, impulsive actions.

Rick stepped into the low-slung driver’s seat, pulling the heavy dihedral door shut, leaving the Harding family sobbing hysterically in the gutter, their lives ruined by their own parasitic greed.

He started the roaring V8 engine, steering the beastly machine out into the traffic, driving off to Elena’s banquet, highly amused that the greedy frogs had dug their own inescapable graves.