Alex Rockefeller lifted the bald guy by his collar and said, “You have to pay for the damages, three million dollars!”

“Um, well, I do not have that much money!”

“Perhaps we have to pay Princess Escort a visit then!”

Shoving the tied-up bald guy into his BMW M8, Alex pulled out the embedded machete from the window and punctured the deployed airbags.

Vroom!

The engines revved to life.

Fortunately, although somewhat wrecked, it was still drivable.

Nudging the Volkswagen out of his way, Alex drove the M8 away from the accident site, headed straight for Princess Fleur.

His curiosity was piqued. Who exactly was Princess Fleur?

On his way there, the car made all sorts of noises, its components falling apart as he drove along. It was quite a sight for onlookers and had attracted plenty of attention, more so than a brand-new BMW would.

“Gosh, isn’t that an M8? What a pity!”

“Seems like a newly-bought car too, even the license plate is not up yet. Hold on...Beatrice, could it be you