Chapter 9
The garage was packed.
Victor Vega was there with his men. Mrs. Watson’s entire family was there. And around them stood a ring of nosy neighbors who had come to watch the fallout.
Mrs. Watson, Bobby, and another relative were sitting on folding stools, eating takeout as if this were some kind of picnic.
The moment she saw me, Mrs. Watson threw down her food container and lunged toward me with greasy hands wide open.
“Lily! You’re finally here!”
She clearly meant to grab my legs in front of everyone and stage some emotional scene for the crowd.
I sidestepped neatly and brushed imaginary dust from my pant leg.
She stumbled and nearly went face-first onto the concrete.
“Mrs. Watson,” I said coolly, “use your words. Don’t touch me.”
Victor folded his arms and stared down at me.
“So. Who’s paying? That old woman says you lent it to her. The equipment is yours. Seventy thousand. Which one of you is coughing it up?”
Mrs. Watson immediately jumped in, pointing at me.
“Her! She’s the owner! It’s her charger. I have a witness too. The security guard saw it. I said it was being repaired, and he didn’t object.”
The guard shrank into himself and said nothing.
Bobby chimed in from the side.
“Come on, Miss Lin. You’ve got money. This amount is like the price of one handbag to you. Just take the loss. We’re neighbors. I’ll even be your driver in the future.”
The nerve.
He wanted me to pay him and employ him.
The neighbors started murmuring.
“They can’t afford that kind of money.”
“She looks so decent. Didn’t expect her to dodge responsibility like this.”
I pushed my glasses up and let my gaze sweep across the crowd before it settled on Mrs. Watson’s greedy, ugly face.
“Mrs. Watson,” I asked, “you insist that I lent the charger to you?”
“That’s right.”
“And you say it failed naturally?”
“Exactly. It was old. It broke on its own.”
I smiled.
Brightly.
Then I reached into my bag and pulled out a folder.
“This,” I said, “is the inspection report from when the charger was installed. And this is the operating log exported from the manufacturer’s backend right before I left town.”
I handed a copy to Victor.
“My equipment was functioning normally until two weeks ago. Every data point was clean.”
Then I pointed at the blackened wreckage of the charger shell.
“And this,” I said, “is obvious evidence of deliberate physical tampering. I don’t recall authorizing anyone to pry open my equipment.”
Mrs. Watson’s face changed.
For one second, real fear flickered across it.
Then she forced her chin up.
“Maybe you forgot. Or maybe you didn’t maintain it properly.”
“Is that so?” I said.
I took out my phone, connected it to the large advertising display mounted on the garage wall, and smiled at the crowd.
“Since everyone’s here,” I said, “why don’t we watch a movie together?”
The screen flashed.
Then the footage began.