Chapter 13 - The Representative Tries to Flee Back Down the Elevator
Back at the penthouse, Piper sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows watching the glowing lights of Manhattan begin to flicker alive.
The heavy emotional fog that had clouded her mind for eleven months finally felt like it was lifting into the twilight sky.
Her phone buzzed continuously on the glass table beside her, flashing notifications from major financial news networks.
“Breaking News: Larkin Holdings Launches Multi-Million Dollar Hostile Takeover of Veyron Adaptive Mobility.”
She swiped the screen away, opening a video message sent directly from Boone Halloway’s workshop in Long Island.
She tapped play, and the screen illuminated her face with the harsh glare of fluorescent overhead shop lights.
Boone appeared on screen, holding up the mutilated titanium thrust bearing that had caused her months of agonizing pain.
“Look closely at this edge, Piper,” Boone’s raspy voice explained over the low hum of industrial machinery.
“See where they ground it down with a handheld tool? That’s what turned your physical therapy into a torture chamber.”
Piper zoomed in on the photograph, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine as the physical evidence became undeniable.
“It wasn't your muscles failing,” Boone continued, looking directly into the camera lens with quiet sincerity.
“It was a machine built by accountants who cared more about profit margins than human dignity.”
Piper smiled through a fresh tier of emotional release, pressing her hand against the screen as if touching the mechanic’s hand.
“Thank you, Boone,” she whispered softly to the glowing display.
Suddenly, the private elevator chime rang out through the penthouse foyer, breaking her quiet moment of reflection.
Piper wheeled herself around to face the hallway just as the brushed-steel doors slid open smoothly.
A junior Veyron corporate lobbyist, who had been sent earlier to deliver emergency filings, stepped out into the foyer.
Upon seeing the empty living room and realizing his bosses had been arrested, the lobbyist panicked.
He turned sharply on his heel, diving back toward the open elevator cab to press the lobby button frantically.
“Going somewhere?” a calm, deep voice echoed from the service alcove near the kitchen entrance.
The lobbyist froze as Larkin’s head of security stepped out from the shadows, blocking the elevator doorway entirely.
The security guard—a towering ex-marine with federal protection training—crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Ms. Larkin hasn't dismissed you yet,” the security guard said, his voice flat and completely devoid of humor.
The panicked lobbyist swallowed hard, pressing his back against the elevator wall as if trying to melt through the steel.
Piper wheeled herself closer, looking at the terrified corporate lackey with a cool, detached confidence.
“Relax,” Piper said calmly, her voice carrying an authority that made the lobbyist stand up straight.
“We aren't going to arrest you... unless you were also forging inspection logs in the basement.”
“N-no! I just handle client relations and contract renewals!” the lobbyist stammered nervously.
“Good,” Piper replied, rolling to a stop just a few feet away from the trapped corporate employee.
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“Then you can be our very first customer service representative to experience the new management style.”
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