Chapter 6 - The Technical Director Tries to Defend the Flawed Software
Arthur Vance stumbled backward until the back of his tailored suit grazed the open elevator control panel.
“You don't understand the pressure we were under to get these units out to high-profile clients,” Arthur stammered.
“The board demanded expedited deployment schedules across three major metropolitan hospital networks.”
“So you cut corners on manufacturing tolerances and forged inspection logs to save delivery deadlines?” Celeste asked.
“We didn't forge anything! We optimized the quality assurance validation process to accelerate rollout!” Arthur yelled.
Dr. Mara Voss stared at him in sheer disbelief, her hands trembling uncontrollably at her sides.
“Optimize? Arthur, you shipped defective motorized joints to patients recovering from catastrophic spinal trauma!”
“The failure rate was statistically insignificant during initial stress testing!” Arthur argued frantically.
“Statistically insignificant?” Piper’s voice cut through the penthouse like a razor-sharp blade of ice.
She gripped the wheels of her chair, pushing herself forward until she was right in front of the executive.
“Every single day for six months, I cried myself to sleep because I thought my body was broken.”
Arthur flinched, holding up a manicured hand as if trying to physically block her words from reaching him.
“I broke down in therapy because I couldn't push through the pain your machine caused me,” Piper continued.
“And all the while, you and your little engineering team sat in an office falsifying paperwork to protect bonuses.”
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out of his dry, parched throat.
Boone watched from the alcove, shaking his head slowly with a mixture of disgust and profound pity.
“Corporate suits always think numbers on a spreadsheet don't bleed,” Boone muttered under his breath.
Celeste tapped the screen of her phone, ending her call with her legal team and sliding the device into her pocket.
“The judge just signed the preliminary inspection and seizure order, Arthur,” Celeste announced quietly.
“Federal marshals are currently walking through the front doors of Veyron’s Manhattan regional headquarters.”
Arthur staggered forward, his knees buckling slightly as the reality of his impending ruin crashed down.
“You can’t do that... Veyron employs thousands of workers... you’ll crash our stock valuation overnight!”
“Your stock valuation was built on fraudulent medical devices,” Celeste replied without an ounce of sympathy.
“Consider this a necessary market correction.”
Before Arthur could formulate another desperate defense, the elevator service phone began ringing loudly.
The emergency chime echoed from inside the car, piercing the tense atmosphere of the penthouse living room.
Arthur stared at the flashing yellow light on the elevator panel as if it were a harbinger of doom.
Celeste nodded toward the security console near the entryway, where her head of security answered the call.
“Ms. Larkin,” the security chief’s voice crackled through the intercom speaker.
“We have federal agents at the lobby gates with a court order, alongside two New York State troopers.”
Celeste never broke eye contact with Arthur Vance as she answered the intercom.
May you like
“Send them up.”
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