PART 10:

” Claire stared at the teddy bear in her hands and felt something crack open in her chest, something that had been frozen for so long she’d forgotten it was there. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to be someone who needs help.” “Then learn.” Nate’s voice was kind but firm. “Because whatever’s coming, Ms.

Montgomery, you can’t face it alone. Not this time.” They sat there in the quiet of the garage, surrounded by the pieces of her $3 million car, and Claire Montgomery held a teddy bear that belonged to a little girl she’d never met, and wondered when her life had become something that could be fixed with wrenches and wisdom instead of money and power.

“Will you help me?” she asked, and the question felt like jumping off a cliff. “Help you how?” “Figure out who did this, why they did it, how to stop them.” She looked up at him. “You see systems, Mr. Rhodes. You understand how things work, how they break, how to fix them. Help me understand this system. Help me see what I’m missing.

” Nate was quiet for a long time, then he said, “On one condition.” “Name it.” “Tomorrow’s Saturday. The shop’s closed. Come by at 2:00.” “Why?” “You’ll see. That’s the condition. You show up, no questions, no excuses.” Claire wanted to argue, wanted to demand answers, wanted to maintain control of the situation, but something in his eyes stopped her.

The same thing that had made her call him when her car was on fire. The same thing that made her trust him now, even though he’d given her no reason to accept being honest. “Fine,” she said. “2:00 tomorrow.” “Good.” Nate stood up and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet, and for just a moment they stood there holding hands like they were sealing a pact that went deeper than words.

Then Claire handed him back the teddy bear and walked out of the garage with her heart hammering and her mind racing and the distinct feeling that she just agreed to something that would change everything. She just didn’t know how yet. Saturday arrived with the kind of gray Seattle morning that made the whole world feel like it was holding its breath.

Claire woke at 5:30. Her body clock didn’t believe in weekends and spent 3 hours pacing her penthouse trying to convince herself she wasn’t nervous about a 2:00 appointment with a mechanic. She failed spectacularly. By noon, she’d changed clothes four times. The Chanel suit felt too formal. The jeans felt too casual.

The dress felt like she was trying too hard. She finally settled on dark slacks and a cashmere sweater that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, then immediately second-guessed the choice. “You’re being ridiculous,” she told her reflection. “It’s a mechanic in a garage. He’s probably going to show you how to check your oil or some other mundane thing that normal people know how to do.

” But the face in the mirror didn’t look convinced, and neither was she. At 1:45, Claire pulled up to Davies Automotive in the back of an Uber. She still didn’t have her car, and the loaner the insurance company had offered was a Mercedes sedan that she’d refused on principle. The shop looked closed, which made sense since it was Saturday, but Nate’s Honda was parked out front.

She paid the driver and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically uncertain. Through the grimy windows, she couldn’t see any movement, couldn’t hear any sounds. For a brief, irrational moment, she wondered if this was a setup, if Nate Rhodes was actually the one who’d sabotaged her car, and this whole thing was an elaborate trap.

Then the door opened, and he was there. And all her paranoid thoughts evaporated like morning fog. “You came,” he said, and he sounded genuinely surprised. “You asked me to.” “Yeah, but you’re Claire Montgomery. I figured there was a 50/50 chance you’d send an assistant with an excuse about an emergency meeting.

” “I don’t have emergencies on Saturdays.” It was a lie, but a small one. Nate smiled, actually smiled, wide and genuine, and it transformed his face completely. “Come on, we’re out back.” “We?” But he was already walking through the garage, weaving between the silent cars waiting for Monday’s repairs. Claire followed, her expensive shoes clicking on concrete that had seen decades of oil stains and dropped tools, and the evidence of hard work.

The back door led to a small parking lot she hadn’t known existed, just a patch of cracked asphalt surrounded by a chain-link fence. In the middle of the lot was a picnic table that looked like it had been rescued from a park somewhere. And sitting at that table was a little girl. Claire stopped walking. The girl was maybe 7 or 8, with dark hair pulled into a slightly crooked ponytail, and eyes the same deep brown as Nate’s.

She wore a purple hoodie with a unicorn on it and pink sneakers that lit up when she kicked her feet against the bench. In front of her was what looked like homework, a workbook and colored pencils scattered across the table’s weathered surface. But it was her face that made Claire’s chest tighten, pale, almost translucent, with shadows under her eyes that no child should have.

The face of someone who’d spent too much time in hospitals, who understood pain and fear in ways that should be reserved for adults. “Stella,” Nate said gently, “this is Ms. Montgomery, the one I told you about.” The little girl looked up, and her eyes went wide. “You’re the princess with the magic car.” Claire blinked. “I’m the what?” “Daddy said you have a car that’s so special only he could fix it, like a magic spell.

” Stella’s voice was soft but clear, with the kind of seriousness that came from children who’d learned to be careful with their words. “That means you must be a princess. Only princesses have magic cars.” “Stella has very specific logic,” Nate said, and there was so much love in his voice it hurt to hear. “Once she’s decided something, there’s no arguing with her.

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