Discretion Driver Retainer

Eight thousand credits retains a licensed driver, screened vehicle, and twelve monthly hours of transport without visible curiosity. The car arrives five minutes early through a service entrance, cabin set to the client's preferred temperature and scent. Water, clean clothes, stain foam, emesis bags, and a partition thick enough to survive regrettable honesty wait inside. The driver notices blood only when it threatens the upholstery. Destinations are logged for the legal minimum; convenience telemetry is burned after each shift while the client watches the confirmation light die. That little ritual buys peace, not immunity. The retainer does not cover obstruction, weapons disposal, or a pursuit caused by romantic optimism. Regulars begin calling the driver before they call friends, then shape their nights around the certainty of escape. Overage is billed by the minute. Miss two invoices and the vehicle still comes—just not for you. In certain circles, losing one's discretion driver is taken as the first public sign that the money has gone.