His Destructive, Toxic Love

"I... I didn't do anything. She lost her balance and hurt herself," the man stammered, his face stiff with effort. His voice, however, betrayed him, filled with a helplessness that suggested even he didn't believe his own excuse. "Is that so?" The icy words cut through the air, his eyes lifting slowly, dark and menacing. "Then, did your car crash itself too?"

"No, no! Are all you rich folks this unreasonable?" The man's voice was tinged with frustration.

"You were the one being unreasonable first." The man's voice was cold and disdainful. "So, do you want to play fair or not?"

The man's eyes flickered nervously. He knew he couldn't outmaneuver the wealthy by being unreasonable. A minor injury; he could pay for that.

"Look, she got hurt, I'll compensate. But you have to pay for my car too."

Casper's lips curled into a small smile. "I can get you a new one, no big deal."

The man patted the old sedan beside him as if it were a precious artifact, his eyes glinting with greed.

"Just give me the money. This car was worth twenty grand when I bought it." A greedy smile spread across his face. "Pay up now."

"Alright, since you insist." Casper swiped a finger across his phone screen, transferring the twenty thousand in an instant.

With a quick call from Casper, Dillon and several men in black appeared, exuding an air of authority.

Under the man's astonished gaze, they began to systematically destroy his "twenty grand treasure." Hammers fell, shattering windows and peeling off paint, as if the car were undergoing an apocalyptic beating. The man stood there, his eyes vacant, watching his "treasure" disintegrate, too terrified to resist or show anger.

Finally snapping out of his shock, he prepared to take the money and leave. But just as he was about to step away, Casper's voice sliced- through the air like a blade. "Hold 'on. I've paid for your car, but my friend got hurt. We need to settle that too."

The man felt a twinge of nervousness. He figured the woman's scratch was worth a few hundred bucks, tops.

"Fine, compensation. I said I'd do it. Five hundred, I'll transfer it." He tried to seem generous as he initiated the transfer.

Casper's eyes gleamed with a cold amusement. "Five hundred?" he scoffed. "Are you trying to fob me off?" Casper signaled to Dillon. "Dillon, run the numbers."

Dillon nodded, pulling out a

calculator and rapidly pressing the buttons. "Compensation for shock emotional distress, lost earnings, medical bills, convalescent care, psychological treatment... total:

thirty thousand."

With each item Dillon listed, the man's face grew paler. When he heard "thirty thousand," his jaw nearly hit the floor.

He had thought five hundred would settle it. Now, he was faced with a thirty thousand-dollar bill.

"Thirty thousand? Are you kidding me? That's a rip-off! Where am I supposed to get thirty thousand?" Dillon smiled, showing he was open to negotiation. "No money? Then it's off to jail."

"No..." The man was in a full-blown panic now. "It was just a scratch, is it really worth thirty thousand?" He wanted to plead his case to Casper.

But Dillon Stepped in. “If you have anything to say, talk to me. We have a team of lawyers. Rest assured, they'll ensure you get a fair, legal, and compliant compensation standard."