Mr. Kane slowly stepped out of the Lamborghini.

His hands were no longer steady.

The boy stood beside his broken bike, dust on his shirt and pain in his shoulder, but he didn’t look afraid anymore.

A black sedan pulled up behind the trucks.

An older man stepped out, calm and furious.

The driver swallowed.

“Sir, I didn’t know.”

The chairman looked at his son first.

“Are you hurt?”

The boy shook his head, but his lip trembled.

“You said if it happened again, I should call.”

The chairman’s jaw tightened.

Again.

That word hit harder than the crash.

He turned to Mr. Kane.

“How many children have you scared off this street?”

Mr. Kane looked down.

“It was just a mistake.”

The boy’s eyes filled with quiet anger.

“No. Last week you pushed an old man’s cart into the road. Yesterday you yelled at the gardener’s daughter.”

The driver’s face went white.

The chairman looked at one of the guards.

“Show him.”

A tablet was turned around.

Security footage.

Every incident.

Every insult.

Every person too poor or too scared to report him.

The boy whispered, “I didn’t call because of the car. I called because you only stop when someone richer is watching.”

The chairman stepped closer to Mr. Grant.

“You were trusted to protect my family.”

Then he pointed to the people gathering on the sidewalk.

“But my son just protected everyone from you.”

Mr. Kane’s eyes dropped.

The chairman’s voice became ice.

“You’re done.”

The boy picked up his damaged bike.

His hands still shook, but his voice didn’t.

“Next time, watch where you’re driving.”