6:31.
Walked toward Serafina’s car.
Camera angle partially blocked.
6:36.
Left.
No visible sabotage.
Then 6:44.
Another man entered.
Trevor Hale.
Kellen stopped breathing.
His former manager.
Older now.
He had been promoted to vice president of advanced systems.
Trevor approached the car with a tool case.
Stayed eight minutes.
Left.
Serafina watched Kellen.
“You recognize him.”
“Yes.”
“He fired you?”
“He recommended it.”
Serafina looked toward David.
“Where is he?”
“Home.”
“His access was suspended at seven this morning.”
Kellen stared at the footage.
“Why would they sabotage your car?”
Serafina’s expression changed.
“That is what we don’t know.”
David said:
“We may.”
He opened another file.
Three weeks earlier, Serafina had informed a confidential board committee she intended to delay launch of Vale’s next autonomous platform because internal safety data looked incomplete.
Only six people knew.
One was Owen.
One was Trevor.
Another was chief operating officer Malcolm Voss.
Serafina said:
“The delay could cost hundreds of millions.”
Kellen looked at her.
“And save what?”
She held his gaze.
“That depends on whether the missing data means what I think it means.”
“Which is?”
“Someone is still suppressing exceptions.”
Silence.
Kellen leaned back.
“Three years.”
“Yes.”
“My report didn’t disappear because somebody disliked me.”
“No.”
“It disappeared because the system was already doing this.”
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
Serafina said:
“Kellen.”
“No.”
He stood.
“I need a minute.”
He walked toward the window.
Far below, Vale’s campus stretched across hundreds of acres.
Engineering buildings.
Test tracks.
Factories.
The place had once meant everything.
He had believed in it.
Not like a brand.
Like a mission.
His father drove Vale trucks.
His uncle worked assembly.
Kellen chose mechanical engineering because he wanted to build vehicles ordinary families could trust.
Then the company erased him.
Now he was supposed to feel vindicated.
Instead he felt exhausted.
Serafina came closer.
Not too close.
“You were right.”
Kellen looked at the glass.
“Do you know how useless that sentence can feel three years late?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He turned.
“You don’t.”
She absorbed it.
Kellen continued:
“I lost my career.”
“Not a bonus.”
“Not a promotion.”
“My career.”
“I applied to twenty-seven jobs.”
“Eighteen never called.”
“Seven interviewed.”
“Two made offers.”
“Both disappeared after background checks.”
“My daughter started asking why we moved.”
“We sold our house.”
“I fixed transmissions at two in the morning because that’s what paid.”
“And now…”
He pointed toward the conference room.
“Now you tell me I was right.”
Serafina’s eyes filled.
She did not defend Vale.