My Grandfather And His Pink Car

Grandpa had a longtime driver named George Creed who had been with him for over a decade.

Out of respect for their long-standing relationship, my grandfather never replaced him.

Not only was he well-paid, but his job was easy as well. Aside from driving Grandpa to and from work every day, he had plenty of free time.

After I returned to the country, Grandpa gave him a short break and had him rest at the logistics department so I would not be idle.

Since then, I had taken over temporarily, using the opportunity to practice my driving.

This was my first day driving Grandpa to work.

As Grandpa’s driver, George knew every car he owned. With him there, identifying the real one would be effortless.

Seeing how confident I was, the onlookers began to waver. They began exchanging uncertain glances and whispering among themselves.

“Could that pink car actually belong to the chairman?”

“But I’ve never seen him in that car…”

“We’ll find out the truth soon enough.”

Preston scoffed. “Alright then. Mr. Briggs, please call his driver down. Let’s settle this face-to-face.”

Ernest nodded repeatedly and quickly pulled out his phone, dialing a number with practiced ease.

“George, please come down to the garage.”

The more I looked at Preston’s smug, unbothered smile, the stronger the unease in my chest became.

Still, George would never mistake my grandfather’s car.

That thought eased my mind a little.

Soon, George hurried over. “Mr. Briggs, what’s the matter? Why did you call me down so urgently?”

“George!” I called out.

To my surprise, he glanced at me with confusion. He did not seem to recognize me.

Then, it dawned on me. I had gone abroad to study at an early age, and he likely no longer remembered what I looked like.

Preston was quick to act. He pointed at the black Rolls-Royce.

“Take a look. Is this the chairman’s car?”

George’s gaze left my face and settled on the black Rolls-Royce. He nodded without hesitation. “Yes, that’s right.”

After casting me a smug glance, Preston pointed at the pink car. “What about this one? Do you recognize it?”

George glanced at the pink Rimac and shook his head firmly. “This pink one… I’ve never seen it before.”

All eyes in the garage landed on me in disdain.

Preston stared at me smugly. “Well? What do you have to say now?”

I stepped forward in disbelief and looked at George.

“Why are you lying? How could that black Rolls-Royce possibly be the chairman’s car?”

George frowned and took a set of car keys from his pocket. After selecting one, he pressed the button.

The Rolls-Royce roared to life.

“This is the spare key. This car is indeed his.”

I froze in place.

It really was Grandpa’s car.

However, almost instantly, I frowned.

If that was true, how had Preston managed to take it out, and why were we completely unaware of it?

Jeers erupted around me.

“Can’t keep up the act anymore, huh?”

Preston sized me up with disdain. His gaze slowly raked over me.

“You’re pretty young. You didn’t buy this car, did you? Was it a sugar daddy’s gift?” he asked in a low and sleazy voice.

“Here’s an idea. Spend a few days with me, and we’ll forget about this little accident. Deal? You heard it. My grandfather is the chairman. It’s just a car. He won’t mind.”

The surrounding onlookers fixed me with hostile stares.

They clicked their tongue. “Looks like she got lucky from this accident. She’s latched onto someone rich. She must be thrilled.”

“Everyone knows Mr. Creed rotates luxury cars like outfits. He’s been here a week and has already gone through seven or eight.”

“Who knows? Maybe she rear-ended him on purpose, hoping to snag a rich guy. Hahaha!”

“Sounds about right. No decent person would parade around in a pink car like that.”

I paid no heed to their foul remarks. Instead, I focused on the uncanny resemblance between George and Preston.

Suddenly, I recalled something Grandpa had mentioned recently. George’s son had also returned home for the summer, and George had even requested leave to be with him.

It hit me all at once: Preston was probably George’s son.

As he had complete trust in George, my grandfather had left the garage entirely under his control and never interfered. That meant the luxury cars Preston had been driving were likely taken directly from it.