The security guard tensed, shifting his weight, clearly preparing to intercept me. I ignored him entirely, keeping my eyes locked on Preston's smug face. I pulled out my black smartphone, tapped the screen twice, and held it to my ear.
Preston laughed, a dry, mocking sound. "What are you doing? Calling an Uber? Go ahead. Make it a fast one."
I didn't break eye contact. The line rang twice before a breathless voice answered on the other end.
"Arthur," I said quietly.
Arthur Vance was the Chief Executive Officer of Sterling Automotive. He had been running the day-to-day operations since I bought the company, answering directly to my legal proxies. We had never met in person, but he knew exactly what my personal phone number looked like on his caller ID.
"Mr. Vance?" Arthur's voice trembled slightly. "Sir, I didn't know you were attending tonight."
"Give me a minute," I said, my voice cold and flat, cutting through the background noise of the gala. "Come to the lobby right now."
I lowered the phone and slid it back into my pocket.
Preston was still smiling, but the edges of his confidence were beginning to fray. He looked at the phone, then back at my face, trying to calculate if he had just made a mistake.
"Who did you just call?" Preston demanded, his voice losing a fraction of its sneering edge.
I didn't answer. I just stood there, my hand resting gently on my son's shoulder, waiting for the storm to hit.
CHAPTER 2
The silence between us stretched out, heavy and thick with unspent tension. The soft jazz continued to float over the showroom, completely at odds with the violent energy radiating from the space around the silver concept car.
Preston shifted his weight, his eyes darting toward the glass elevators at the far end of the hall. He was trying to maintain his mask of elitist superiority, but the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his uncertainty. He looked at his security guard, silently confirming the man was still standing there.
"You think you can play games in my showroom?" Preston said, lowering his voice so the surrounding guests couldn't hear the waver in his tone. "I don't care if you're calling a lawyer or the Better Business Bureau. You have no standing here."
"I have every standing," I replied, my voice steady. I felt Leo’s small hands gripping the fabric of my trousers, pressing his face against my leg. "You put your hands on a child. Over a car."
"It's not just a car," Preston snapped, his eyes flashing with a sudden, frantic intensity. He took half a step backward, positioning his body entirely between us and the rear quarter-panel of the Apex. "It's a prototype. And it's strictly off-limits to unauthorized personnel."
I watched his feet. I watched his shoulders. The way he guarded the back of the car wasn't just about protecting the paint. He was shielding it. He was physically blocking the trunk and the rear exhaust assembly from view.
I had read the engineering reports on the Apex. The rear assembly housed the experimental dual-combustion battery matrix that Elena had fought so hard to implement. It was the most valuable piece of proprietary technology in the entire building.
"Is that right?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "A prototype. I thought this was the final concept model for public display."
Preston's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about this vehicle. Now, show me your invitation or I will have you physically removed for trespassing."
He snapped his fingers again. A second security guard, younger and visibly nervous, stepped out from the crowd to join the massive man already standing behind Preston. The two guards formed a wall, slowly advancing to close the circle around Leo and me.
The social pressure from the crowd intensified. The wealthy guests had stopped pretending to ignore us. They were openly staring, whispering behind their champagne flutes. I could hear snippets of their conversations—words like classless, entitled, and security risk.
They thought I was the villain in this scenario.