He looked offended.
“We can restore.”
“I mean it won’t be before.”
He understood.
“Ah.”
She walked around.
Her father’s small scratch near rear wheel—one he refused to repair because “every machine needs one scar”—had been photographed before restoration.
The technician asked if she wanted remove.
She said leave.
“Sentimental?”
“Stubborn.”
He smiled.
When car returned, perfect except scratch.
The new windshield gleamed.
Nia sat inside garage.
She did not start engine for ten minutes.
Her brother stood beside.
“Dad would say you’re wasting fuel.”
“Engine off.”
“He’d find reason.”
She smiled.
“Sell?”
He asked.
She looked at steering wheel.
For months, she had thought selling would free.
Then realized Mercer should not decide what objects she keeps.
But keeping to defy Mercer was also letting him decide.
So she asked simpler:
“Do I want it?”
She did.
Yes.
Not because father.
Not because case.
Because, annoyingly, she loved driving it now.
“I’m keeping.”
Her brother nodded.
“Then drive.”
They drove to lunch.
No cameras.
No police.
At restaurant valet approached.
Nia said no.
Family tradition.
Three years after incident, she left FBI.
Not because scandal.
Career choice.
Fifteen years federal service.
She moved into inspector-general work for transportation security? Maybe still public service. She joined Department of Justice Office of Inspector General? That would remain federal. Let's say she stayed FBI longer, no need.
Actually timeline: she continues FBI, later becomes supervisor. Need ending maybe 20 years later.
She was promoted two years later.
Some accused bureau of rewarding victim.
Promotion board records showed she had been eligible before.
Still.
She hated comments.
One colleague said:
“People talk.”
“They always.”
“You deserve.”
“Not relevant.”
She eventually led public corruption squad but recused Cedar related follow-ups.
Leadership challenged.
She remembered Mercer.
Power and questions.
At first team meeting:
“If you disagree, say it before we sign affidavit.”
One agent joked:
“Even with you?”
“Especially.”
Then she added:
“If your objection is stupid, I reserve right to tell you.”
Laughter.
Healthy.
Cross’s lesson stayed.
A junior agent once challenged her probable cause theory.
She felt irritation.
Instant.
That was warning.
She paused.
“Explain.”
He did.
He was right about missing nexus.
They fixed warrant affidavit.
Later Nia told him:
“I hated you for thirty seconds.”
He smiled.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
Authority does not make you immune to ego.
It makes ego more expensive.
Years later, she taught supervisors.
She used Cedar case rarely.
When she did, no Bugatti photo first.
She showed text:
No way that’s hers.
Asked:
“What happened before illegal search?”
Assumption.