PART 15:

I’ll testify to whatever you need, Vivian said. Even if it means admitting you were aware of some questionable practices during your tenure, Vivien didn’t hesitate. I spent years pretending I didn’t see things I should have questioned. If that makes me culpable, then put me on the stand and let me say it publicly.

Warren nodded with something that looked like respect. The preliminary hearing is set for 3 weeks from now. I’ll need both of you to prepare testimony. Expect long days and hostile defense attorneys. We’ll be ready, Nathan said. They left the federal building as the sun came up over Cincinnati. The rain had stopped, leaving everything wet and clean and temporarily hopeful.

Nathan’s phone rang. “Margaret, how’s Ellie?” he asked. “Eating breakfast and asking why you left so early. I told her superhero business.” Margaret paused. “Was I right?” “Yeah, you were right.” Good, because that little girl has been bragging to everyone at school that her dad is fighting bad guys. Don’t make her a liar.” Nathan smiled despite everything.

“I won’t.” They drove back to Ashton Ridge in silence, exhausted, but unable to sleep. Vivien dozed against the window while Nathan watched the highway unfold. Somewhere out there, Daniel Mercer was still free, still thinking he’d won, still believing money and connections could protect him from consequences.

Nathan hoped he was wrong, but he’d seen too many rich men walk free to count on it. By the time they got back to the garage, it was almost noon. Margaret had picked Ellie up from school early, and they were waiting in the office, both looking worried. Ellie ran to Nathan the moment he walked in. “Dad, Mrs.

Chen from next door said FBI people were at our house last night. Is that true? Nathan shot Margaret a look. Mrs. Chen has a big mouth. Margaret said unapologetically. But yes, there were federal agents verifying your residence for official records. Are we in trouble? Ellie asked. No, baby. The opposite. We’re helping catch the bad guys. Like real FBI stuff.

Like real FBI stuff. Ellie’s eyes went huge. Can I tell Tommy? You can tell anyone you want. She was out the door before Nathan could blink, running toward Tommy’s house to deliver the news that her dad was officially working with the FBI. Margaret waited until she was gone. So, so we have a cooperating witness.

Federal charges being filed. Arrest warrants incoming. Nathan sat down heavily. We might actually win this. Might? Nothing’s certain until Mercer’s in handcuffs. Margaret studied him. You’ve been fighting for this for 10 years. You’d think you’d look happier. Nathan didn’t answer because how could he explain that winning felt like losing when 73 people were still dead? That justice delayed for a decade wasn’t really justice at all.

Viven spoke up from where she’d collapsed on the couch. He’s scared it won’t stick. That Mercer will find a way out. Will he? Margaret asked. Probably not. The evidence is overwhelming. Wong’s testimony is damning. Mercer’s lawyers are good, but they’re not miracle workers. But there’s a chance. There’s always a chance.

Viven closed her eyes. That’s what Nathan’s learned. That doing the right thing doesn’t guarantee the right outcome. You can fight perfectly and still lose. Margaret was quiet for a moment. Then she walked over and squeezed Nathan’s shoulder. Well, you haven’t lost yet, so maybe save the despair for after the trial.

She left to run errands and Nathan sat in his garage surrounded by evidence and exhaustion and the creeping certainty that 3 weeks from now everything would either vindicate 10 years of work or prove it had all been for nothing. Viven moved from the couch to sit beside him. Talk to me about what? About why you look like you just lost instead of one.

Nathan gestured at the filing cabinets. All of this, 10 years of documentation, 73 deaths, hundreds of injuries, and it took a billionaire CEO having a crisis of conscience and a guilty engineer finally breaking for anyone to take it seriously. That’s not fair to yourself, isn’t it? Without you and Hang, I’m still just the crazy mechanic in Ohio that nobody believes.

My evidence didn’t matter. My testimony didn’t matter. I didn’t matter until someone with money and credentials decided to care. You mattered to the families of the victims. Did I? Because they’re still dead. Nothing I did brought them back or prevented their deaths. I just documented the aftermath like some ghoulish accountant keeping score.

Viven grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. Stop. You spent 10 years refusing to forget people everyone else wanted buried. You gave them names and faces and evidence when the system tried to reduce them to acceptable losses. that matters. It doesn’t bring them back. No, but it means they weren’t erased.

That someone fought for them even after they were gone. She let go, her voice softening. That’s not nothing, Nathan. That’s everything. He wanted to believe her, but 10 years of fighting had taught him that everything could still feel like nothing when you were too tired to see the difference. The next two weeks passed in a blur of preparation.

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