Turn on the Heater

The corners of Lucille's lips curled into a smile. It was her time to shine. The rain was getting heavier. In the luxury car, the driver asked, "Mr. Lindsay, do you need me to turn on the heater?" "No need." A deep voice was heard. It sounded indifferent, rigid, and inhuman. The driver replied affirmatively and then focused on driving. The windshield wipers were already on the highest setting, but there was still endless rain pelting down on it, hindering his sight. In a flash, the driver saw someone rushing out from the roadside. He was shocked. In order to avoid the pedestrian, he immediately braked, but there was a bang. The driver had hit something. Due to the inertia, Amore Lindsay, who was sitting in the back seat, jerked forward and frowned unhappily. His face, which was already hard and emotionless, showed a little dissatisfaction. "What happened?" "Mr. Lindsay, I-I hit someone!" The driver parked the car. After the initial panic, the driver calmed down and respectfully stated,