The CEO Hit My Car And Mocked Me, Now My Injury Attorney Owns His Mansion

Preston’s outburst hung in the air like smoke. Ten minutes later, his lead attorney, a sweaty man named Halloway, asked for a recess. When they returned, Halloway slid a single piece of paper across the polished granite.

"Five million dollars," Halloway said, not making eye contact. "Structured. Immediate payout. No admission of guilt."

I stared at the zeros. Five million. I could pay off the hospital. I could retire. I could fix the heater in my apartment. The concept of a structured settlement this large was dizzying. It was freedom.

"Sarah," Vance whispered, touching my elbow. "It's your choice. This is financial planning for generations."

I reached out, my fingers hovering over the check. I thought about the double shifts. The pain in my back. Then I thought about Preston laughing. I thought about him calling me 'trash' just moments ago. If I took this, he won. He bought his way out, just like he always did. He would do it again to someone else.

I pulled my hand back as if the paper were burning.

"No," I said, my voice barely a whisper, then louder. "No."

"Ms. Miller, be reasonable," Halloway pleaded. "This is a reject settlement offer scenario you will regret."

"I don't want his money," I said, standing up, my legs finally steady. "I want his legacy. I want the jury to hear what he said."

Vance closed his folder with a snap. "You heard the lady. See you in court."