Security analytics had access to traffic-camera data.
He could make it look like Kellen had encountered the car before the failure.
A disgruntled former employee.
Revenge.
Sabotage.
The irony was monstrous.
Kellen had stopped to help the vehicle Owen hoped to blame him for damaging.
When David told him, Kellen laughed for nearly a minute.
Then stopped.
“Amara was in my truck.”
Serafina’s face changed.
“I know.”
“If police had shown up instead of you…”
“I know.”
“They could’ve searched my house.”
“I know.”
“My daughter.”
Her voice broke.
“I know.”
Kellen stood.
Walked away.
This time Serafina followed.
“Kellen.”
He turned.
“This isn’t about my career anymore.”
“No.”
“They put my kid near it.”
“Yes.”
Serafina’s eyes filled.
“And I will spend every resource I have making sure the truth is documented.”
Kellen stared.
“I don’t want your resources.”
“I know.”
“I want them away from us.”
“I know.”
“Then fix your company.”
The words hit.
Serafina nodded.
“I will.”
He left.
For two days, he did not answer her calls.
Not because he blamed her.
Because proximity to Vale felt dangerous again.
Amara noticed.
“You’re grumpy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re making toast angry.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“You stabbed butter.”
Kellen looked down.
Knife embedded in toast.
Fair.
Then Amara asked:
“Did Fancy Road Lady do something?”
He looked toward her.
“No.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you answer her?”
“Adult stuff.”
Amara rolled her eyes.
“Adult stuff is always code for people being dumb.”
“School.”
At noon, someone knocked.
Kellen opened the door.
Serafina stood outside.
No assistants.
No security visible.
Jeans.
Black sweater.
Hair down.
Not billionaire armor.
Just her.
He stared.
“How did you get inside?”
“Your neighbor thinks I’m your girlfriend.”
Kellen closed his eyes.
“Mrs. Jensen.”
“She approved.”
“Of course.”
Serafina looked toward him.
“I’m not here for the investigation.”
“What are you here for?”
“You.”
He said nothing.
She continued:
“You’re allowed to walk away from Vale.”
“I won’t stop you.”
“But do not walk away from me because Owen Mercer was evil enough to make every connection feel contaminated.”
Kellen’s jaw tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
She stepped closer.
“I like you.”
“I like your daughter.”
“I liked sitting at your broken kitchen table.”
“I like that you think my coffee is terrible.”
“It is.”
“I like that you tell me when I’m being arrogant.”
“Frequently.”
“I like that you stopped in the rain when you had every reason not to.”