Kellen objected.
Six weeks later, he was fired.
Official reason:
Insubordination and unauthorized modification of engineering records.
He had not worked in automotive engineering since.
Serafina saw him staring.
“What now?”
Kellen asked:
“This is Vale?”
Her expression changed.
“You know the platform?”
He looked toward the tiny mark.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
He did not answer.
Instead he walked back to his toolbox.
Serafina followed.
He opened it.
Wrenches.
Multimeter.
Electrical tape.
Old receipts.
A photograph of Amara in a purple school sweater.
And beneath a rag, an expired employee identification card he still used to scrape labels sometimes.
VALE AUTOMOTIVE ENGINEERING.
KELLEN ROYCE.
SYSTEMS VALIDATION.
Serafina saw it.
Her hand tightened around the umbrella.
“You worked for Vale.”
Kellen closed his eyes briefly.
“Unfortunately.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
“When did you leave?”
“I didn’t.”
She frowned.
“They fired me.”
Rain drummed against the umbrella.
“For what?”
Kellen looked toward the cut sensor.
“Reporting that.”
Serafina stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“Same subsystem.”
“Same vulnerability.”
“I filed fourteen test exceptions.”
“Fourteen?”
“Technically eleven.”
“Three were resubmissions after they disappeared.”
Her face changed.
“Disappeared?”
“From the system.”
“Who removed them?”
“I never proved it.”
Serafina stared.
Kellen continued:
“Then test data got rewritten.”
“I objected.”
“They said I altered records.”
“I was gone by Friday.”
“What year?”
“Three years ago.”
She stepped closer.
“Who signed the termination?”
Kellen laughed without humor.
“You’re asking like you work there.”
Serafina removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were pale green.
Focused.
Very awake now.
“I do.”
“What department?”
“Ownership.”
Kellen stared.
She held his gaze.
“My full name is Serafina Vale.”
At first he thought he had heard wrong.
Then the surname settled.
Vale.
He looked at the prototype sedan.
Then her coat.
Then her face.
Then back at the car.
“You’re…”
“My grandfather founded Vale Automotive.”
“My mother expanded it.”
“I became controlling chair eighteen months ago.”
Kellen said nothing.
Serafina continued:
“I also own thirty-eight percent personally.”
Rainwater ran from Kellen’s jaw.
He stared at her.
Finally:
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
Kellen laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No.”