But Felicia grabbing my arm was futile because I kept stepping on the pedal.
The car charged straight toward Mr. Donovan without hesitation. At the last moment, just before the car hit him, Mr. Donovan's eyes widened in fear, and he quickly tried to dodge the vehicle.
However, he was a step too slow. The car struck his lower body, sending him flying.
His lackeys were dumbfounded.
I stopped the car and rolled down the window, tossing a business card to the stunned lackeys on the side of the road. "Take this to handle the compensation."
With that, I pressed the gas pedal again and drove off.
In the rearview mirror, I could see the frightened young woman fleeing in panic. The lackeys scattered. Some rushed to pick up the card, others went to help Mr. Donovan, and a few pulled out their phones. They were either calling the ambulance or the police.
The roses, speakers, and candles all over the road were crushed into a mess of debris under my wheels.
Felicia was horrified. "William, you hit someone…"
"Don't worry. Someone will handle it."
This was the advantage of privilege.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't resort to using such advantages because I disliked them myself. But this wasn't a normal situation. Those men had blocked the road in the middle of the night to harass a young woman. Getting hit was exactly what they deserved.
As soon as we arrived, Felicia pushed open the car door and bolted toward the building before I could even park properly. I followed her hurriedly.
When we got upstairs, Mrs. Cylon was still in surgery.
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