CHAPTER 123: CHAPTER 123: HEAVEN’S RETRIBUTION

In the center of the room, there was a photograph.

Black and white, clearly showing the worker from back then.

Poppy Hale placed the bouquet in front of the memorial photo.

The middle-aged woman poured some water and placed it on the coffee table.

"Have a seat. There used to be a lot of media coverage, but now no one comes. I thought this matter had been forgotten."

Poppy sat down and took out a voice recorder.

This was the recorder and script she had prepared in advance.

If she came under the name of the Hale Group, the family members would most likely not welcome her, and might even make biased comments in a fit of emotion.

Poppy began, "Have the Hale Group contacted you in the past two years?"

"No, they said they went bankrupt. No one has reached out to us."

The middle-aged woman scoffed, "What goes around, comes around."

Her eyes reflected the emptiness that follows major life events.

"My husband was an honest man. At that time, a manager named Eugene Lynch told me he died in the machine and would hold us accountable for damaging it. I was terrified."

"So I contacted my son. My son didn’t know how to handle it either."

"Fortunately, a kind student found us. She said she was a student from Arvum University, understood the law, and could help hold them accountable. She told us that my husband’s accident warranted compensation from the Hale Group."

Poppy furrowed her brows slightly.

"A student from Arvum University?"

The woman nodded.

"I remember, her surname was Hollis. Thankfully she stepped in to help us and even paid for the lawyer. Otherwise, we would have been scapegoats. How could we compete against capitalists?"

"Did you receive the money?"

This was the most important question.

The woman shook her head, visibly agitated.

"Money? What money? Who cares if they went bankrupt or not? My husband is never coming back. Do you know how many pieces he was crushed into by the machine? Do you know?"

The woman grabbed Poppy’s wrist, her face flushed with anger.

Her grip on Poppy’s wrist was painfully tight.

Mason Rivers stepped in front of Poppy, "Ma’am, please calm down."

"Why should I calm down? How am I supposed to calm down!"

When people are extremely agitated and lose their rationality, their strength can be extraordinary.

Mason had to exert some force to pull the middle-aged woman away.

Sitting on the couch, gasping for breath, the woman covered her face, tears streaming down continuously as she sobbed.

Poppy rubbed her wrist.

She remembered that after the incident, she had personally transferred the money to the victim’s family.

But the woman said they never received it.

Sometimes when there are too many coincidences, they aren’t just coincidences.

After asking a few more questions, the woman was emotionally overwhelmed and couldn’t answer.

Poppy put away her voice recorder and stood up to say goodbye.

The middle-aged woman insisted on seeing them to the entrance, watching Poppy and Mason get in the car.

Beside them, a man got out from an almost broken-down car, walked up, and exchanged a few words with the middle-aged woman.

His gaze scanned over to Mason’s car.

He locked eyes with Poppy sitting in the front passenger seat.

In an instant, the man’s gaze turned fierce as he shouted, "You’re from the Hale Family! Why do you get to live when my dad died!"

Mason hit the gas pedal.

But it was too late.

The man floored the accelerator in his car and rammed hard into Mason’s car from behind!

Mason gritted his teeth.

He hit the gas pedal again, lurching away from the outskirts of the village.

The man’s car broke down from the collision and came to a stop.

Mason touched his forehead, only to find his hand covered in blood.

Poppy quickly handed him tissues, "Are you okay? Let’s go to the hospital. I’ll cover your car repairs."

"It’s fine, the car insurance will cover it."

"Can you still drive?"

Mason adjusted himself, nodding.

"Yes, I can drive slowly. I just hit my head because I didn’t have time to buckle up, but it doesn’t affect my vision or intelligence."

They drove to the hospital.

Poppy accompanied Mason to register and get bandaged.

Mason held onto her wrist, "You should get this checked too."

Poppy looked down.

Her wrist was covered in dark bruises, which looked particularly striking against her paler-than-average skin.

Poppy shook her head.

"It’s nothing; just needs a rub. You go get bandaged up."

After a long wait in the examination room, Mason finally had his wounds cleaned and bandaged.

When they came out of the hospital, Mason finally had the chance to check out the damaged car.

As he was inspecting it, a voice came from the car nearby.

"Mason? What happened to your car?"

Allen Shaw lowered the car window, looking at the badly damaged rear of Mason’s car, then at his bandaged head, and clicked his tongue.

"A car accident?"

"No, someone forcefully rear-ended us."

From the driver’s seat, a man’s cold gaze looked over, passing Mason, resting on Poppy standing by the roadside.

She looked down at Mason’s car, her brows furrowed tightly.

Her exposed wrist was visibly bruised, and her arm bore some tiny scratches from fingernails.

A flawless piece of porcelain was cracked.

What had she and Mason been up to?

This place was very close to the village.

With a little thought, Declan Hawthorne could guess that Poppy was handling some issues related to the Hale Group.

She was willing to ask Mason for help but wouldn’t reach out to him.

Just yesterday she was wishing him a happy birthday, and it felt like she turned away and forgot about him.

In her life, at that moment, he was just someone insignificant.

This realization made Declan’s brow furrow deeply.

He slowly said, "Get in the car."

It was only then Mason noticed Declan in the driver’s seat and instinctively wanted to block Poppy, but it was too late.

His car indeed couldn’t be driven anymore.

Having contacted the traffic police, he got into Declan’s car.

Inside the car, silence lingered for a moment.

Allen Shaw was the first to break it.

"Mason, is your head okay?"

"The doctor said it’s just a mild concussion, a few stitches for the cut. Poppy covered the medical bills, and the car’s insurance has been contacted, all good."

Poppy said, "Since you reported to the insurance, the premiums might rise next year, right? Send me the bill, and I’ll cover it."

Mason had initially wanted to say it didn’t need to be so clear-cut.

But seeing Declan’s icy expression, he hesitated for a moment then nodded in agreement.

"Sure, if any extra repair fees arise, I’ll send them to you as well."

Poppy nodded.

This ordeal happened simply because she had coincidentally bumped into Mason, and he had unwittingly been dragged into the catastrophe.

There wasn’t much else she could do besides ensuring ample compensation.

Poppy whispered, "Thank you for today, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through."

"It’s no big deal; I just happened to run into you. I couldn’t just ignore it. You shouldn’t go there again; now that family recognizes you, who knows what impulsive actions they might take later."

Poppy nodded.

"Mm, I won’t go again."

She already knew everything she wanted to know.

The rest didn’t need further probing.

With a little synthesis, the entire accident could be pieced together.

Eugene Lynch, and that student from Arvum University, Stella Hollis.

They were all inextricably linked.