I lifted my head, my voice tinged with confusion."Where to?"

She replied,"Didn't I tell you yesterday? The Mercedes-Benz 4S dealership."

A sudden realization struck me, and I smacked my forehead—she had indeed mentioned it yesterday. I quickly retrieved my phone, booked a ride, and once the destination was set, I asked,"So, you really intend to buy the E300?"

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with confidence."Of course. I can't keep driving your old, worn-out car every day. The company deserves a fine vehicle."

I silently muttered to myself that the best car at the company was a ten-year-old model, frequently in need of repairs. Reluctantly, I responded,"Alright."

Seemingly reading my thoughts, she added,"This car is for you to drive—don't let anyone else use it."

I smiled and replied,"It's your dedicated car, after all."

She gave my shoulder a light pat, her smile laced with a hint of approval."At least you're not entirely dim."

We arrived at the Mercedes-Benz dealership, where the lavish décor and the gleaming car bodies were nothing short of dazzling. She strode directly towards a sleek black E300, her gaze betraying both admiration and resolve. A sales representative warmly approached and began to extol the car's features and performance.

"This model features the latest engine, offering exceptional power and handling..." The salesperson's voice blended into the background, as Sophie seemed already certain of her choice, hardly listening.

She circled the car, gently caressing its surface as if savoring every line and texture. Standing nearby, I couldn't help but admire her decisiveness and self-assurance.

"This is the one," she declared firmly, her voice carrying a trace of excitement and satisfaction.

The salesperson immediately flashed a professional smile."Very well, madam. Will you be paying in full or opting for financing?"

Without hesitation, she replied,"Full payment."

I watched as she pulled out her credit card from her bag, silently impressed by her audacity. The entire process was swift and efficient, as if she had meticulously planned it all in advance.

While we waited for the paperwork to be completed, I couldn't resist asking,"How were you so certain about buying this car?"

She glanced at me and smiled."I've had my eye on it for a while. Just hadn't found the time to come in. Besides, the E300 offers great value and performance—perfect for the company's image."

We had a brief work lunch at the dealership, and by 2 o'clock, the license plates were ready. She headed straight for the driver's seat, and I sat in the passenger seat, marveling at the luxurious interior and comfortable seating."This car is amazing," I remarked.

She smiled and started the engine, smoothly pulling out of the dealership. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on her face, and her smile shone even brighter. She handled the steering wheel with ease, the car responding to her touch like a nimble swallow, flying down the road. She occasionally applied sudden brakes, and the car swerved gracefully, leaving elegant arcs on the road. I couldn't help but be impressed by her driving skills and curiously asked,"You're quite skilled behind the wheel."

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A slight smirk curled on her lips, and her eyes gleamed with confidence."Skilled? Hah, I'm not just skilled—I have a racing license."

"Did you compete?" I asked, my eyes widening in astonishment and admiration.

"Of course." She answered without a hint of modesty, her gaze radiating pride. She shot me a glance, seemingly waiting for my reaction.

I paused for a moment, then, recalling past memories, couldn't help but chuckle bitterly.

"Are you out of your mind? I'm no longer the Sophie Summers you can bully," she said, her gaze suddenly sharp, and the smile on her lips turned laden with meaning.

"Ahem, Sophie, let's not bring up the past," I muttered, feeling a flush of awkwardness and a rising sense of guilt.

"Feeling guilty?" she asked, her voice almost playful.

"Guilty," I replied quietly, a tinge of helplessness in my voice.

"Sad?" she pressed on, her eyes glinting with mockery.

"Sad," I sighed, a wave of conflicting emotions swirling within me.

"Are you going to make it up to me?" Her tone suddenly became serious, and a glimmer of expectation sparkled in her eyes.

"Make it up?" I blurted, only to immediately realize my mistake."What... what exactly am I supposed to make up for?"

A mischievous smile curled at the corner of her lips."You figure it out."

"I don't know," I shook my head, bewildered.

Her expression darkened, and she spoke with unmistakable irritation,"I told you to think carefully."

With a swift motion, she pulled the car over to the side of the road, glancing at me."Alright, get out. You drive it back."

"And you?" I asked, still confused, unable to make sense of her words.

She shot me a sharp look, her eyes full of anger and disdain."Me? I'll fly back, walk back, crawl back—are you satisfied now?"

My heart tightened at the seriousness in her tone, and I quickly flashed a sheepish grin."Hey, don't be mad." I got out, walked around to the driver's side, but as soon as I was about to get in, she floored the accelerator, and the car roared away, kicking up a cloud of dust. I stood there, dumbfounded. This woman... When she was angry, she could do the most outrageous things. Today was definitely a disaster. With the city still fifty kilometers away and a taxi costing a small fortune, I was in deep trouble.

I stood by the roadside, cursing under my breath, thinking: she's definitely not coming back for me. This madwoman. I pulled out my phone, comparing prices on various ride-hailing apps, trying to find the most affordable option. Just as I hesitated, the screech of tires cutting through the air startled me, and I jumped to the side, nearly losing my balance. A distinct scent of rubber burned my nostrils as I looked on, heart aching for the car. It was brand new, still within hours of being driven off the lot, and yet this woman was already putting it through such reckless punishment. It was pitiful... and so domineering.

She stepped out of the car and approached me, crossing her arms, her smile tinged with cold mockery."Oh, so you're planning to take a cab? How much will it cost? I'm not reimbursing you."

I turned away, unwilling to engage, though in my heart I silently vowed never to anger her again. She, undeterred by my silence, continued,"Get in the car."

"Didn't you just leave?" I asked, still confused.

She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm."I figured, what if some poor fool finds themselves stranded on the side of the road without any money? I'll at least pity him." She lifted my chin with her finger, forcing me to look up. It was only then I realized she was wearing high heels, and she wasn't even shorter than me."Remember this: think before you speak, and don't ever piss me off again."

I was horrified. She was driving in high heels—speeding, slamming on the brakes, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of fear. It seemed like she really needed to see a therapist. The constant emotional swings left me at a complete loss. When she was good, she was wonderful, like this morning when she even bought me breakfast. But when she was mad, I was nothing but a target.