A rough voice barked from behind her. "Why're you sitting there?" Theresa recognized it immediately. "Tyger?" She glanced in her mirror. The guy behind her spotted a young woman at the wheel, and his irritation dropped a notch. "Light's green. Move it." The tone made her laugh quietly. She eased forward and continued toward the airport. The whole drive seemed vibrant. Sidewalks were crowded with people—some appeared stressed, others excited, a few arguing over trivial matters, some lost in their routines, and many lively and noisy. A massive digital billboard lit up ahead. The news read, 'Crestmont's two corporate titans confirm merger. Successor Sage Arlen to take command.' She slowed as Sage's sharp, intimidating portrait flashed across the screen. Her gaze lingered for a moment. Suddenly, a piercing cry rang out ahead of her. A young man dramatically threw himself onto her hood. "What kind of driving is that? You ran me over!" Theresa blinked. A street punk sprawled on the pavement, milking the scene. "Ow! I'm done for! My leg! My knee! My spine! I'm finished!" He couldn't have been more than twenty. His exaggerated groans drew a crowd almost instantly. Theresa's smile slowly crept across her lips. The sound must have cut straight into him, because Quentin cracked an eye open and froze—a girl barely twenty—bright grin, clean features, sunlight in her expression. He blinked twice, then snapped, "Don't think that cute face lets you smash into someone for free." "You're right. I should take responsibility." Her smile warmed. Quentin stared as she had just confessed to murder. "Then stop dragging it out and pay. I'm not calling the cops if you settle." "How much do you want?""Fifty thousand to start. If something flares up later, you deal with it. All of it." Those standing around listened to Quentin push a girl around, and the whole crowd bristled. Elias, gentle as always, stepped forward with a firm glare. "Miss, don't fall for his act. He jumped right in front of your car. I saw the whole thing. I'll testify for you." Others joined immediately. "Me too!" "He scams people every week! He hides in the camera blind spot!" "Call the cops! Don't let him get away with this!" "We'll back you up!" Theresa's smile softened. This world has its dark corners, yet it never loses its light. The more we advance, the brighter things become. It has always been a world capable of warmth. Quentin, blasted from every angle, felt the universe toy with him. He had finally scored a clueless girl, yet a mob of do-gooders barged in and ruined everything. He cursed under his breath and tried to make a run for it. A group of rough-looking men burst through the crowd before he got far. "Got you, brat!" "Thought you'd bail on us again?" "Where's our money?" "You pay today, or we break something!" Their leader slammed brutal punches into Quentin's stomach. Quentin doubled over, coughing blood. Another man grabbed his hair to keep him upright, a fist raised to smash his face— A hand stopped the punch mid-swing. Quentin blinked up at the small fingers wrapped around that wrist. The girl he tried to scam stood between them. "Stop." The bruiser glowered at her. "This has nothing to do with you. He owes us.""How much?" Theresa asked. The men exchanged glances. "Fifty thousand. You covering him?" "Show me your payment screen." She already had her phone out. Their faces lit up. They scrambled to pull up the transfer screen. Theresa scanned it. Ding. Payment sent, and they released Quentin instantly. Their leader shot the kid a crooked smile. "Lucky break. Try pulling anything next time." "F*ck you!" Quentin was wiping blood from his mouth with false bravado. He felt her gaze on him and then lifted his head. "You paid on your own," he muttered. "I didn't ask. I'm not paying you back."