Chapter 4 - The Midnight Garage
Back at the Carter family estate, tucked away in the sprawling countryside outside the city limits, the atmosphere was a mix of intense grief and razor-sharp focus.
The estate’s main house was massive, but Eli preferred the detached, heavily fortified subterranean garage that his father had built. It smelled of motor oil, high-octane gasoline, ozone, and old leather.
Eli stood beneath the halogen work lights, a wrench in his hand, staring down at the disassembled chassis of his father’s original prototype—the very machine Julian Carter had been driving the night he died.
The garage doors slid open with a heavy pneumatic hiss. Henry walked down the metal staircase, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. He stopped a few paces away, watching his grandson work with an eerie, mechanical precision.
“You should be sleeping, Eli,” Henry said softly, handing a mug to the boy. “The federal prosecutors are coming back at dawn. They want your full testimony regarding Marcus and Mason.”
Eli took the mug, blowing gently across the surface before setting it down on a workbench cluttered with circuit boards.
“They won't get the testimony they want, Grandpa,” Eli said quietly.
Henry frowned. “What do you mean? You have all the proof—the voice recordings, the financial ledgers, the sabotage logs.”
“Proof doesn't matter if the corporate charter is stolen legally,” Eli replied, pulling up a holographic projection from his diagnostic deck. It displayed a legal document bearing Vanguard Global Tech’s corporate seal.
Henry stepped closer, his eyes scanning the fine print. As he read, the color completely drained from his face.
“Section 14-B…” Henry breathed, his voice catching. “Victoria filed this rider three years ago, right after Julian’s accident. If an underage heir inherits controlling shares without an appointed adult proxy approved by the majority stakeholder board, the shares revert to emergency liquidation management.”
“And who controls the emergency liquidation trust?” Eli asked, already knowing the answer.
“Vanguard,” Henry whispered, a heavy weight crashing down on his shoulders. “By noon tomorrow, they’ll legally seize the company, strip our patents, and erase every trace of your father’s life work. They’ll sweep the murder investigation under the rug as a corporate restructure dispute.”
Henry slumped against the workbench, looking defeated for the first time in his long, hard life. He looked at his grandson—just an eleven-year-old boy who should be worrying about school projects and bicycle repairs, now forced to wage war against a multi-billion-dollar corporate machine.
“I’m sorry, Eli,” Henry murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. “I built this empire to secure your future. Instead, I walked you right into a den of wolves.”
Eli didn't panic. He didn't cry. He reached into the deep pocket of his oil-stained coveralls and pulled out a small, metallic flash drive that looked entirely ordinary—except for a tiny, hand-carved lightning bolt etched into its casing.
“Dad gave me this the night before he died,” Eli said steadily. “He told me that if anything ever happened to him, I shouldn't look for justice in a courtroom.”
Henry looked up, his eyes widening. “Then where?”
May you like
Eli plugged the flash drive into the master diagnostic deck.
“In the car itself.”
