The Year She Stopped Being Crazy for Him novel Chapter 407

The man hadn't expected this young woman to clap back at him in front of a crowd. His eyes bulged. "I didn't say that! I just meant it's not a big deal. Why bother the police? They work hard enough as it is!"

Nancy let out a loud, mocking laugh and pointed across the street. "Oh, look at you, the patron saint of the working class. That lady selling hot dogs over there is working hard too. By your logic, we should all boycott her stand so she doesn't have to cook!"

The small crowd of onlookers began murmuring among themselves, many realizing Nancy had a point.

"It was her fault for not paying attention. The other car had its blinker on, and she still rear-ended them."

"Exactly. If you can't drive, stay off the road. Look at her, it's not like she can't afford a chauffeur."

Having been treated like a princess her entire life, Joelle was not used to being publicly humiliated.

Yet, she kept her polite smile perfectly intact, looking helplessly at the man who had defended her.

"Thank you for speaking up for me, sir. It really was my fault for missing the turn signal, and I take full responsibility. I just got back from Mothria Country and was so eager to see my family that I rushed. I only suggested a private settlement to save everyone some time, but since this lady prefers the official route, I'm happy to comply."

As she spoke, she maintained warm, sincere eye contact, her voice smooth and unhurried, radiating an aura of elite education and impeccable manners.

Add to that the fact that she was a wealthy expat returning home, and the crowd's leniency toward her skyrocketed. Even those who knew she was at fault couldn't bring themselves to say another harsh word in the face of her flawless attitude.

Just then, a sleek black Maybach pulled up. The matte finish of the custom paint job absorbed the sunlight, exuding pure luxury as the vehicle slowly came to a halt by the curb.

The door opened, and a man stepped out. Dressed in a dark grey tailored suit that accentuated his broad, imposing shoulders, he looked immaculate. The collar of his crisp, cool-toned white shirt was unbuttoned to the second button, revealing the sharp, clean line of his neck. His long, straight legs were clad in impeccably tailored trousers, and an outrageously expensive watch gleamed subtly on his wrist.

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