Chapter 683
Chapter 683:
Vernon’s face lit with sudden understanding, a sly smile forming. “The Welch family would be livid if they heard that.”
“Their anger matters little. I suspect someone here is dying of boredom, though.” Janice’s piercing gaze found the driver’s reflection. “Aiden, didn’t you say you weren’t coming along?”
“Huh?” Vernon gaped, studying their chauffeur with new eyes. “You mean the driver is Aiden Green?”
Aiden’s sigh of defeat filled the car. Surrendering his disguise, he peeled away the sunglasses and mask, revealing features that matched his reputation. “How did you see through it, Janice? I thought my camouflage was perfect.”
“That towering frame and intimidating presence? Pure Aiden Green.” Aiden’s rich laughter filled the car. “Should I consider that a compliment?”
“Care to explain your surprise appearance?” Janice’s gaze turned razor-sharp, her eyes boring into Aiden.
Yet Aiden remained unruffled, his smile unwavering. “I said I wouldn’t follow. But playing chauffeur? That was never off the table.”
Janice’s eyes rolled skyward. His logic, though infuriating, was flawless. “The mighty head of the Green family, reduced to playing taxi driver in Cloverhill? Surely you have more pressing matters.”
“The company runs like clockwork with Braylen at the helm. Why not seize the chance to step into someone else’s shoes for a change?” Aiden’s tone carried a hint of mischief.
Vernon’s gaze bounced between them, marvel in his eyes. Aiden’s dedication was something else—the leader of an empire, willingly donning a driver’s cap in Cloverhill, all to stay in Janice’s orbit.
A loud honk erupted, shattering the calm. The intrusive sound caused Janice to scowl in annoyance. She spun around, spotting a luxury car close behind, the source of the relentless honking.
“Shall I address them?” Vernon asked.
𝕋𝕣𝕦𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞: 𝕘ⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝕖𝗅𝕤⫶ⅽ𝗼𝗺
“No, let it be,” Janice replied.
The honking grated on her nerves, yet she understood the discretion in Cloverhill to evade complications. Janice held this belief quietly, but not everyone shared her restraint.
A man from a nearby car stepped out to challenge the noisy driver. “Are you blind? Don’t you see the traffic jam right ahead?” he yelled, sleeves rolled up and finger jabbed toward the luxury vehicle. “Cut it out, or you’ll regret it!”
His rant complete, the man turned to head back to his vehicle, but then a figure emerged from the luxury car. This man appeared wealthy yet bore a threatening look. Without warning, he wielded an ashtray, striking the complainant on the head. Caught off guard, the victim staggered, and before he could react, he was struck again. This second hit drew blood, sending him collapsing to the ground.
Onlookers gasped in shock, some fumbling for their phones to alert the police.
“Don’t bother with the police! That’s Jorge Lambert.”
“Jorge Lambert?” A potential caller whitened at hearing the name and stopped dialing.
The recognition spread as others noted the luxury car’s distinct license plate, interchangeable with significant influence or wealth.
Aware of the Lambert family’s clout, bystanders knew reporting the incident would be pointless; the Lamberts would escape unharmed. Meanwhile, those daring to report could face dire consequences. Jorge’s reputation for vengeance was well-known.
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