"What?!" she asked, her voice cracking through the silence like a thunderclap out of surprise.
"Did you hit someone?! Go check on him—right now!" she said, her usually detached expression gone in an instant.
Alarm surged across her face, eyes wide with disbelief, and for the first time, a raw flicker of panic broke through her carefully maintained poise as her hands trembled ever so slightly in her lap, but her tone left no room for argument.
Benjamin's foot was still hovering over the brake pedal, his fingers frozen around the wheel.
"But, Señorita—" he stammered, bewildered.
She turned sharply toward him, her voice slicing through his protest. "But what?" she hissed, eyes narrowing.
Her face, delicate and always composed, was drawn tight with emotion.
There was a glint in her blue-grey eyes—something wild, something desperate. It wasn't just anger in there, not really. It was fear—fear wrapped in frustration, wrapped in guilt.
Hearing the tone of her voice, Benjamin nearly broke out in a cold sweat. This wasn't the composed young lady he was used to, the one who gave quiet orders from the backseat with a barely-there nod, and the sudden change in her attitude stunned him.
Though surprised by the unexpected scolding, Benjamin held his ground, his chin raised and his expression firm, righteous even—as if conviction alone could shield him from blame.
"I'm telling you, Señorita… this could just be a ploy. A setup to extort money," he insisted, voice low but unwavering.
The moment the words left his mouth, Hannah's eyes snapped toward him, blazing with disbelief. Her breath caught in frustration.
"Oh, for—Benjamin!" she hissed through gritted teeth, unable to continue her words as her voice trembled with fury and something deeper—fear. But instead of arguing further, she let the anger fall from her lips in one final groan of exasperation.
That was it. She was done wasting time.
Without another word, Hannah flung open the car door with a sharp click and bolted out, her heels hitting the pavement hard as she rushed toward the figure lying motionless just ahead.
The world narrowed around her, all sounds muffled except for the frantic pounding of her heart.
"Grandpa!" she called, kneeling beside the old man's crumpled form.
"Can you hear me? Are you okay? Say something!" Her voice trembled as she reached for him, her hands hovering over his still chest before gently shaking his shoulder. He didn't stir.
"Can you open your eyes? Please… talk to me!"
She shook his shoulders again, more urgently this time, her breath coming faster. The old man's eyes remained shut, his body slack beneath her touch. The shadows from the headlights made his face look ghastly pale, almost lifeless.
A chill ran down Hannah's spine, and though worry gnawed at him, Benjamin didn't try to stop her.
He knew from previous experience that once his eldest miss made up her mind, there was no force on Earth that could sway her.
Instead, he quietly followed her out of the car, stepping to her side like a silent sentinel.
Broad-shouldered and imposing, he stood tall beside her, radiating a protective presence, like a guard dog poised to lunge at anyone who dared pose a threat to the slender young woman at his side.
While Hannah knelt beside the old man, Benjamin scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes, ever alert—but his gaze kept drifting back to the crumpled figure on the pavement.
The man didn't look like a con artist. He wore a worn black bucket hat, faded blue cargo pants, and a plain white shirt. He looked… ordinary. Just someone's grandfather out for a stroll. There was no trace of deceit in his still body.
Still, Benjamin's instincts wouldn't let him lower his guard. He had seen too much in his time to fall for appearances.
"He's barely breathing," Hannah whispered, panic tightening her voice.
She stared at the old man's unmoving chest, torn between urgency and her obligations. The ticking clock reminded her she was due for a blind date—a meeting she couldn't afford to miss.
But how could she walk away from someone who might be dying?
She looked up and scanned the road, her eyes desperate. A few cars slowed, their drivers gawking before continuing on, unwilling to get involved, and with every passing vehicle, her hope drained.
Hannah clenched her fists, her jaw tight.
"Benjamin. Take him to the hospital," she said sharply, her voice commanding.
"I can't do that, Señorita! Your safety must come first!" Benjamin replied immediately, his tone firm with devotion and duty.
But when his eyes met hers—those fierce blue-grey eyes brimming with fire—his heart skipped a beat. A strange chill prickled down his spine. She wasn't merely asking.
She was ordering.
And the look she gave him… he knew it well. It was the look she reserved for those who tested her patience—one that promised regret to anyone who dared defy her.
Benjamin's instincts screamed not to leave her alone. Her brothers would skin him alive if anything happened to her. But disobeying her in this moment… felt like betrayal.
"I cannot simply leave you alone for the sake of a stranger," he said, trying to reason with her gently, the way one might calm a child on the verge of a tantrum.
"Yes, he is pitiful, but we didn't hit him. I'm sure that I didn't hit him. We don't even know who he is."
But he knew her. He had watched her grow from a fierce little girl into a woman of unshakable will. He knew once she had made a decision, the world itself might as well fall before she turned back.
And this was no different.
"I said take him to the hospital," Hannah repeated, her voice low but firm. "I'll call a cab and head to the restaurant myself. I can't be late."
Before he could protest again, she turned on her heel and strode across the road, her form graceful and unrelenting.
"Señorita—!" he called after her.
"Follow my order, Benjamin," she said, pausing only to glance over her shoulder. Her voice softened. "Please… don't disappoint me."
And then, as she opened the door to a yellow cab idling nearby, she was gone.
Benjamin stood rooted to the spot, thunderstruck.
'She entrusted this to me.'
The words echoed through his mind like a bell tolling deep within his chest. For a few seconds, he couldn't move. Then slowly, a light ignited behind his eyes, and his entire demeanor shifted.
His lips curved into a rare smile—not the smug kind he sometimes wore, but one of pride, of purpose.
"My eldest miss… gave me a mission," he whispered to himself, heart swelling.
He turned back to the old man, scooping him gently but firmly into his arms.
"I'll take you there," he murmured, his voice filled with resolve. "And I'll stay by your side until you wake up. So I can tell you who saved you."
And with that, Benjamin walked toward the car—his back straight, his eyes forward—ready to carry out his señorita's will with unwavering loyalty.
Hannah slammed the car door shut behind her, her breath shallow from frustration and urgency. Finally free from Benjamin's protests, she leaned forward slightly and gave the driver her destination with crisp authority.
"To Nata Restaurant," she said.
There was a pause.
"What?" the man in the driver's seat asked, turning his head slightly, his narrowed eyes blinking in surprise.
"Nata Restaurant," she repeated, more firmly this time. "A few blocks from Royal High University."
She assumed he was just unfamiliar with the place. He looked foreign. Maybe he was new to the area.
"You might've mistak—" the man began, his tone polite but hesitant.
"Look," Hannah cut in sharply, her patience wearing thin. "I'll pay double the fare. Just drive."
Her commanding tone brooked no argument. She was used to being obeyed—questioning her orders wasn't something she encountered often. Not with Benjamin. Not with anyone.
What she failed to realize, however, was that the vehicle she had confidently stepped into wasn't a taxi at all.
It was just a regular yellow car—conveniently colored, unintentionally misleading.
And the man behind the wheel wasn't a driver for hire. He was a traveler—clearly not from around here—who had pulled over for a moment to read a message from his father.
He hadn't even noticed her approaching… until she was suddenly in the backseat, giving orders like it's her right to be obeyed.
He stared straight ahead now, fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel, trying to process what had just happened.
'Did… did this girl just hijack my car?' he thought, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked utterly composed, regal even, as if she did this sort of thing all the time.
His brows furrowed in disbelief. She was beautiful, sure—but terrifying in her confidence.
"Are you always this slow?" she snapped from the backseat, arms crossed, "or are you just waiting for the light to turn red?"
The man blinked again.
'Is this… flirting?' he wondered, genuinely baffled. 'Is this how people flirt in this country?'
He cleared his throat, deciding against correcting her, for now. She seemed intense. Dangerous, even. Best to just drive and figure things out later.
And so, with no idea who the woman in his backseat really was or why she had mistaken his car for a cab, the man eased back onto the road, still glancing occasionally in the mirror, equal parts amused and alarmed.
***🦋***
Author's Note
Oh no, the secondhand embarrassment is real—I can practically feel my toes curling just thinking about it. Imagine sitting in your car, minding your own business, when suddenly someone climbs into the backseat and starts barking directions at you like you're their personal driver. Or worse… imagine being so used to having a chauffeur that you accidentally hop into a stranger's car, mistaking it for a cab.
Honestly? If it were me, I'd rather take my chances walking to the restaurant barefoot than face either scenario. But for Hannah, this awkward mix-up is just the start—and trust me, it only gets more chaotic from here. Buckle up… because this ride is going somewhere very unexpected.