Chapter 10
The first video was crystal clear.
4K resolution. Sharp audio.
On screen, Mrs. Watson stood beside the fake handyman in the gray uniform.
“Open it. If it breaks, I’ll take responsibility.”
Her voice rang through the garage speakers.
Then came the cracking sound of the screwdriver forcing open the shell.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
“So she really had someone break it open?”
“That’s not repair. That’s vandalism.”
Mrs. Watson’s face turned the color of liver. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.
I didn’t give her room to breathe.
The second clip started immediately.
It showed Bobby wiring the charger illegally while Mrs. Watson stood nearby. Then the camera angle shifted slightly, catching her glancing toward Victor’s newly parked Rolls-Royce.
The audio was perfect.
“What’s the big deal about that flashy luxury car?” she sneered. “With paint that thin, one little bump would probably ruin it. If anything happens, let him pay me.”
The garage went dead silent.
Every eye turned to Victor.
His face was now so dark it looked carved out of stone. The veins on his forehead stood up. His fists clenched with an audible crack.
He slowly turned to stare at Mrs. Watson.
“Let me pay you?” he said, each word ground out through his teeth.
She collapsed backward onto the floor.
“N-no, Mr. Vega, listen, I can explain—”
“Save it,” he said.
I tapped my phone again.
The third clip began.
This one showed Mrs. Watson plugging in the extra power strip and adding the space heater to the already overloaded mess of wires.
“Dry out the moisture in the car,” she said cheerfully.
Then came the spark.
The flame.
The truth.
No excuses. No loopholes. No room left to twist anything.
This wasn’t an accident. It was greed, ignorance, and malice tied together with cheap electrical tape.
I turned the screen off and put my phone away.
Then I looked down at the Watson family, all three of them pale and shaking.
“Mrs. Watson,” I said quietly, “is this what you meant by equipment failure? Is this what you meant when you said I gave permission?”
Then I turned toward the neighbors who had lectured me about being generous.
“If this is what you call neighborly kindness,” I said, “you’re welcome to enjoy that blessing yourselves.”
No one answered.
Those who had been the loudest before now stared at the floor or pretended to check their phones, wishing they could disappear.
It felt wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
Watching Mrs. Watson’s face collapse from arrogance to fear to despair, I felt a clear, cold satisfaction spread through me.