Chapter 3 - The Mechanic Who Inspected My Father’s Car Was Terrified of Silas’s Family—Until Lorenzo Promised Him He Would Never Be Afraid AgainWe found the mechanic in Wisconsin.
His name was Arthur Bell.
He had lived quietly for eleven years.
He looked over his shoulder every few seconds while we talked.
“I told the truth once,” he said.
“No one listened.”
“What did you see?” Lorenzo asked.
Arthur rubbed his hands together.
“Your father's brakes were cut.”
My heart stopped.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why did the official report say mechanical failure?”
Arthur looked at Lorenzo.
“Because someone changed it.”
“Who?”
“Captain Raymond Vane.”
My stomach turned.
Silas's father had investigated my father's death.
He had then altered the report.
But why?
Arthur continued.
“Your father had been fighting the Vane family.”
“For what?”
“Land.”
I knew that part.
Arthur handed me a folder.
Inside were old documents.
A development project.
A casino.
A private transport hub.
The Vane family needed my father's land.
He refused.
So they built a plan.
I looked at Lorenzo.
“Silas knew about this?”
“Yes.”
Arthur nodded.
“Silas was at the garage two days before the accident.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to change the inspection.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The next night, Arthur's garage burned.
He escaped.
Then disappeared.
I looked at him.
“Why come forward now?”
He smiled faintly.
“Because I'm old.”
Then he looked at Lorenzo.
“And because I trust him.”
Lorenzo didn't react.
Arthur did.
“He's one of the few men I know who keeps his word.”
We returned to Chicago.
The case moved quickly.
Federal investigators were notified.
Silas was suspended.
Captain Raymond was placed under investigation.
The judge from the recording resigned.
But the Vane family fought back.
They released a statement accusing me of being emotionally unstable.
They claimed Lorenzo was manipulating me.
They called him a criminal.
The public believed it.
I watched the news.
Lorenzo turned it off.
“Don't.”
“I need to know.”
“You don't.”
“I spent years believing everyone.”
He looked at me.
“Not everyone deserves access to you.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you different?”
He was silent.
“Because I'm not pretending to be a good man.”
The answer surprised me.
“What does that mean?”
“I've done things I can't defend.”
“Then why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
I laughed softly.
“That is a terrible sales pitch.”
He smiled.
“I'm not selling anything.”
That honesty drew me closer.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Just trust.
The next day, Silas requested a meeting.
I refused.
He sent another request.
Then another.
Finally, through his attorney, he made a statement.
He wanted to apologize.
Lorenzo asked:
“Do you want to hear him?”
I said no.
Then changed my mind.
“Actually, yes.”
We held the meeting in a secure conference room.
Silas entered without his badge.
He looked different.
Smaller.
He sat.
“Clara.”
I stared at him.
“You owe me two years of my life.”
“I know.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“You hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“You isolated me.”
“Yes.”
“You made me believe I was worthless.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
I asked the question I had carried for years.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“I loved you.”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“I loved the idea of you.”
“That is not love.”
“I know.”
He swallowed.
“My father said you were the key to the property.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“Even when you hurt me?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“I don't forgive you.”
He nodded.
“You shouldn't.”
I walked away.
For the first time, I left a room where Silas was sitting without wondering what he would do next.
That was freedom.
But as I reached the elevator, my phone rang.
Arthur.
His voice was urgent.
“Get away from the Vane family.”
“Why?”
“They found the original records.”
“What records?”
“The ones your father kept.”
“What did they contain?”
Arthur whispered:
“Proof that the Vane family wasn't just stealing land.”
I froze.
“What were they doing?”
Arthur's voice dropped.
“They were using the land to move people.”
My blood went cold.
“People?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Women.”
“Children.”
“Anyone they could hide in their transportation network.”
I stared at the elevator doors.
The truth was bigger than property.
Bigger than Silas.
Bigger than me.
The Vane family had built their power on human suffering.
And my father had died trying to stop them.
I called Lorenzo.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
I told him.
There was a pause.
Then his voice became cold.
“Don't move.”
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“Why?”
“Because if Arthur is telling the truth, the war just became much bigger.”
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