Chapter 652 A Car Accident
After being diagnosed with erectile dysfunction, Oliver had traveled abroad specifically for treatment. He'd consulted numerous specialists and taken countless medications, but nothing had worked.
This was why the Weaver family looked down on him, both openly and behind his back. This was why Abigail could strut around so arrogantly. Otherwise, he could have gotten any woman pregnant, and Abigail wouldn't have had the chance to be so smug!
But now, just looking at this stranger's photo had awakened something in him. If he could actually sleep with this woman, perhaps his impotence could be cured completely!
He immediately called the number.
"Since you've sent me this kind of photo, I assume you know who I really am. What do you say—interested in meeting up?" he asked without preamble.
Saskia remained silent on the other end.
Taking her silence as hesitation, Oliver continued, "Don't worry, whatever you want—just name your price! Even if you want to marry into the Weaver family, I'd agree to it."
Hearing this, Saskia felt a pang of jealousy over Ryder's wife's incredible beauty, but was pleased her plan was proceeding as expected.
"You certainly forget people easily," she responded. "I'm Saskia—don't you remember? We exchanged contact information back then."
"What? That's impossible. If I'd met you before, how could I have no memory of it? Did you have plastic surgery or something?"
Oliver couldn't believe he would forget such a beauty. Those perfect body lines couldn't possibly be the result of surgery, could they? Though come to think of it, the name "Saskia" did sound vaguely familiar.
Saskia laughed. "I think you misunderstand. The woman in the photo isn't me—she's my friend! She's admired you from afar for quite some time and hopes to meet you."
"What's your friend's name?" Oliver eagerly asked.
Saskia paused. Truth be told, she only knew that Ryder had married into the Johnson family in Houston. She had no idea what his wife's name was.
She made one up on the spot: "Her name is Sophie!"
"Sophie? What a lovely name!" Oliver didn't hold back his praise.
"So, do you like her? Are you interested?"
Oliver slapped his thigh. "A beauty like your friend? I don't think any man could resist!"
"Haha, I'm glad you like her. When would be a good time for me to arrange a meeting between you two?"
"Tonight works!" Oliver said decisively.
Saskia adopted a regretful tone: "Tonight might be difficult. My friend went to Starlight City for the day. As soon as she returns, I'll make arrangements—I promise she'll be lying in your bed when the time comes!"
Oliver picked up on something in her words: "Is she really your friend? You hate her, don't you?"
Saskia hesitated briefly, then explained, "You're perceptive. That's exactly it. I love my boyfriend deeply, but he fell for my friend instead. So I had no choice but to resort to this."
"I see! Haha, you're quite ruthless! But don't worry, once everything's done, I'll pay you a nice referral fee."
"Thank you, I appreciate that."
"We'll be in touch."
After hanging up, Oliver's gloomy mood completely lifted. This woman named Sophie would be the perfect medicine for his condition! His impotence diagnosis had made life in the Weaver family miserable. No future! No hope!
But now, Oliver discovered he could still feel desire. Even if it was just a spark, it was amazing for him. If just a photo could do this, he believed that meeting her in person would quickly restore his manhood!
Meanwhile, Saskia was thrilled after ending the call.
Didn't Ryder claim he would love Sarah no matter what happened to her? She wanted to see if that was a lie.
Testing this wouldn't be difficult—all she needed was for Sarah to experience what she had: being raped and impregnated by another man.
*Oh, Ryder, Ryder. After Oliver succeeds... After all these years of twists and turns, you'll finally be mine again!*
---
Ryder, of course, had no idea that both he and his wife Sarah had become targets. He was busy with his delivery job, contemplating the challenges faced by frontline delivery workers and how to improve their conditions.
As he approached an intersection, he found the road completely blocked. Ryder got out of his delivery truck to check what was happening.
It turned out an elderly man had been hit by a Mercedes. The old man was lying on the ground, clutching his legs, his face contorted in pain. Blood pooled beneath him—a disturbing sight.
Just then, the Mercedes driver's door opened. A middle-aged man in a suit and tie stepped out—either a chauffeur from a wealthy family or a successful businessman. Such people tended to be either fawning servants or hypocritical pretenders.
Seeing the old man lying in a pool of blood, the driver's forehead beaded with sweat—clearly nervous and guilty.
Yet he defended himself: "I didn't hit you! You threw yourself at my car! You did this on purpose!"
The old man on the ground glared back: "What do you mean I did it on purpose? Would I risk my life as a joke? Besides, if you didn't hit me, look at your car—there's paint chipped off the front. How can you still deny hitting me?"
At this, the onlookers stared accusingly at the driver, murmuring among themselves about how they'd seen drivers flee accidents but never one who stayed to blame the victim. Some mentioned they'd called 911 and encouraged the old man to hang on.
Then, a cool female voice came from inside the Mercedes: "Max, just give him the money."
The middle-aged driver—Max—was clearly reluctant: "Ursa, I really didn't hit anyone. Don't you trust my driving skills?"
"Just pay him. He's just a pitiful old man. Consider it payment for his performance."
"Fine."
Max approached the old man with an impatient expression: "How much do you want?"
"Ten thousand dollars! In my condition, that's asking for very little!"
Max hesitated.
"Pay him," came the woman's voice from the car again.
Max grudgingly reached into his pocket for his phone.
"Wait!"
At that moment, Ryder stepped forward and crouched beside the old man: "Sir, let me help you get your phone out—you seem to be having trouble moving. You've lost so much blood from the accident!"
"Oh?" The old man quickly responded with an "Ouch!" then said: "Yes, yes, thank you, kind sir. These criminals who hit people are terrifying. Please help me get my phone so I can get the money and go to the hospital."
"Of course! I can't stand these arrogant luxury car owners who think they can bully others!"
"My phone is in my left pocket. Please get it for me."
"Sure!"
Ryder took the phone, stood up with a smile, and said, "I'll just be taking this phone with me!" Then he turned around and ran.
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