Chapter 10 - The Keys to the Kingdom
The fallout was absolute.
Under the strict, unwritten laws of the underground rally, a wager was a wager. The elite community turned on Damian instantly for losing to a "nobody," forcing him to honor the bet to save whatever reputation he had left.
Two weeks later, the morning sun poured through the colossal, double-height glass panels of the hypercar boutique.
Damian Cross, wearing a rumpled suit and looking utterly defeated, signed a stack of legal documents on the hood of a new McLaren. He slid the papers across the glass. They were the original 1994 patents, legally transferred back to their rightful owner.
Marcus picked up the papers. He wasn't wearing his faded detailing uniform. He was wearing a sharp, custom-tailored jacket.
"You ruined me," Damian spat, his voice trembling with anger and humiliation.
"No," Marcus replied, his voice calm and steady. "I just took back what was mine. Your father built a castle on stolen ground. It was always going to collapse."
Damian turned and walked out of the glass doors, stepping out of the automotive world forever.
Marcus stood alone in the absolute center of the showroom. The boutique belonged to him now. He looked at the multi-million-dollar machines surrounding him. He didn't see status symbols anymore. He saw engineering. He saw art.
The heavy glass doors slid open again. Young Leo, the mechanic from the rusted garage, walked in, looking around the immaculate showroom in absolute awe.
"So, boss," Leo grinned, tossing a microfiber cloth over his shoulder. "What do we build first?"
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Marcus smiled, folding his patents and sliding them into his pocket. He looked at the young, hungry engineer—a kid with no money, but all the talent in the world.
"First," Marcus said, tossing Leo a set of keys, "we change the locks. Then, we get to work."
