Chapter 97 Damian, the Demolition Foreman
"When did Jean return?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and palpable, as Damian's silence filled the car. It was a silence so thick it threatened to choke the very life out of the vehicle's interior. Ashley, unable to bear the frigid atmosphere any longer, seized the opportunity at a red light to initiate conversation.
"Last night," Damian replied tersely.
Ashley cast a sidelong glance at him. "During spaghetti night?" she queried, wondering if the call he had received earlier could have been from Jean.
"Is the spaghetti ready?" Damian asked, skirting her question with one of his own.
Ashley found his double standards infuriating. He never answered her questions directly, yet she was not permitted to respond to his queries with questions of her own. Leaning back in her seat, she answered in a detached tone, "No, it isn't, and frankly, I couldn't care less."
As the light turned green, Damian floored the accelerator, sending the car hurtling forward.
Startled, Ashley jolted in her seat, her back protesting against the sudden movement. "What are you doing? This is a main road. Aren't you worried about someone running a red light? There are still people crossing!"
Without so much as a glance in her direction, Damian retorted, his tone icy, "If someone's foolish enough to run a red light, is that my fault?"
Ashley felt a pang of confusion, unsure why he was behaving so coldly. His tone was harsh, his words biting. She wondered why he didn't just hire a five-star chef to satisfy his craving for dumplings.
"From a legal standpoint," she began, "if there's an accident, even if the other party ran a red light, the driver is typically held responsible for most of the damages. If the pedestrian is elderly, the consequences are even more severe. Money might not be an issue for you, but bad press is still bad press. That's my professional advice as a lawyer."
Damian shot her a cool look. "Fine, educate me. Do you want more legal lessons? If you love lecturing so much, I should set up a seminar for you to get your fix." His sarcasm was palpable.
Ashley retorted, "Drop the sarcasm, Damian. Many people in the States lack sufficient legal knowledge. It's easy for them to get into trouble. When faced with deceit and exploitation, too many people simply swallow their anger, hoping to maintain peace. But that just encourages criminals, which is why these scams keep happening. If it were up to me, I'd want everyone to understand the law – not to exploit others, but to protect themselves."
Damian was not her chauffeur to be lectured on the law!
"Making money while dishing out some benefits to the public to soothe your guilty conscience? Sure, I can play along," he responded.
Ashley exhaled sharply. If she weren't in a moving vehicle, she would have stormed out. "Damian, can't we have a decent conversation without going at each other's throats?"
"It takes two to tango," Damian retorted.
Fair enough.
Ashley turned her gaze toward the window.
The night had dressed the city in a dazzling charm. Walking among the streams of light and cars felt like entering an endless time tunnel. In the distance, the office buildings still shone brightly; nearby, the fashion-forward flaneuses dazzled like stars, the sidewalks were lined with blazing trees and silver flowers, and hand-in-hand, couples infused love into the concrete and steel.
This world's bizarre glare was a tear that Damian had ripped open beyond repair.
Perhaps influenced by the scenery, Ashley mused aloud, "I actually envy them a bit. Young love is so pure and uncomplicated. Growing up together, from playing as kids to raising your own – just living life one good day at a time."
There was something to be said for the simple things.
Damian scoffed. "If it were as great as you say, then our divorce rate wouldn't be climbing every year. The ignorant romance of youth eventually turns into a messy reality as you grow up."
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Ashley accused, raising her voice.
"Consider it a trade," Damian said. "Free legal lessons from you, and in return, I give you a reality check on human nature."
Ashley decided to keep her mouth shut.
They were heading toward Henry Lee Avenue; the next intersection was just ahead.
Ashley's phone rang – it was Sean.
First thing, she checked Damian's expression. He was looking straight ahead, apparently also set on not talking to her anymore.
Good.
She slid the green button on her phone. "Sean?"
Sean asked politely, "Am I interrupting anything?"
"No, I'm not busy. What's up?"
Ever since the awkward moment when Mr. Jin mistook her for the future niece-in-law, Ashley had been careful to maintain a distance in her conversations.
"I hope this isn't out of line," Sean began, "but I wanted to ask – have you ever considered switching to a different law firm?"
Was he headhunting?
"At the moment, no. And I don't see that changing in the future," Ashley replied.
Sean said, "Hold on, don't reject the offer so quickly. I'm not asking for an immediate answer. Saxon Law Firm is planning to expand into asset management, which is a trendsetting industry with a promising future. If that aligns with your career path, you might want to give it some thought. Plus, I'll be taking the lead on this venture myself."
Such a significant move from Saxon Law Firm, and with Sean personally taking the reins, would have anyone else jumping for joy on the spot.
Ashley felt a twinge of excitement, too.
The world of asset management was an intricate dance of mingling with the wealthy and influential, handling cases with astronomical figures attached. Even the smallest fraction of such transactions could set one up for a lifetime of luxury.
"I'll ponder over it, thank you," came the reply.
"Are you in your vehicle?" Sean inquired.
"Indeed, I haven't managed to reach home yet."
Sean's lips curled into a smile, "Alright then, drive safe. I won't detain you any longer."
Sean was a master of his craft, knowing when to press and when to retreat, always maintaining a smooth demeanor.
In essence, he was a man of high emotional intelligence.
Gazing at the stern countenance of the demolition team leader served as a stark reminder of the vast disparities that existed between individuals.
"Offi—ah!" Ashley began, but her words were abruptly cut off as her body lurched forward. The car skidded, propelling her towards Damien on the opposite side!
In an instant, the sleek black vehicle swerved against the curb, its rear tires screeching in protest against the pavement. Ashley's head slumped onto the steering wheel as the seatbelt failed to restrain her. Her hand slipped in a desperate attempt to grab onto something, causing her to lose her balance entirely.
By the time the tires came to a deafening halt, Ashley was in a daze, stars dancing before her eyes.
"What happened?" Damien inquired, his face as ominous as a stormy night. He gently pushed her head aside, maneuvered her back to the passenger seat, and unbuckled her seatbelt. "I'll investigate."
Rubbing her forehead, Ashley attempted to clear the dizziness. Through the windshield, she observed the car stranded awkwardly between the road and the curb, its front tires climbing over.
She surmised that the harsh jolt had likely damaged the chassis. The vehicle wasn't designed for off-roading; an impact of that magnitude could have thrown everything out of alignment.
Outside, she spotted a three-wheeled cart, decorated with the words "Pancake Fruit Wrap," toppled over, its owner sprawled on the ground.
She exited the car, rushing past Damien. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"
The owner of the cart was a woman, presumably in her forties or fifties, her hair disheveled and an apron draped around her.
The woman looked up, groaning in pain, "What kind of driving was that? Didn't you see me crossing the road?"
Ashley, who had been on the phone, couldn't recall whether the light had been red or green. She quickly glanced at Damien for assistance.
Damien shot her a stern look and curtly replied, "I don't run red lights."
Ashley mentally berated herself for her carelessness.
Bending down, she addressed the fallen woman, "Let's get you up and discuss this off to the side."
The woman made an attempt to rise but then caught sight of her toppled tricycle, the scattered food ingredients, and cooking gear on the ground. She broke down into tears. "Oh my God! There's been an accident!"
