Chapter 9 - Piper Finds Her Voice and Confronts the Deceptive Company
Boone didn't walk over to the executive desk, nor did he look at the open checkbook binder in Celeste’s hand.
Instead, he let out a slow, heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of twenty years of honest labor.
“Keep your money, Ms. Larkin,” Boone said quietly, his voice steady and unyielding.
“I'm a mechanic. I fix broken machines so hardworking people can get back on the road.”
Celeste paused, her pen hovering just above the blank paper as she stared at the rugged blue-collar worker.
“You earned compensation far beyond a standard service call today, Boone.”
“Compensation is for the job I was hired to do,” Boone replied, tapping his canvas tool bag with one hand.
“Uncovering corporate fraud is pro bono work I don't typically charge for.”
Piper felt a genuine smile break across her face for the first time in nearly a year.
For months, she had been surrounded by sycophants, expensive consultants, and corporate liars who valued her as a cash cow.
Here stood a man with grease under his fingernails and duct tape on his truck window who simply told the unvarnished truth.
“Boone,” Piper said, her voice carrying a newfound strength that surprised even herself.
He stopped and looked back at her.
“What happens to the machine?” she asked, gesturing toward the towering black exoskeleton in the corner.
Boone walked over to the $400,000 piece of advanced robotics and ran a calloused hand along its carbon-fiber brace.
“I’ll tear it down tonight in my shop,” Boone said thoughtfully.
“I'll pull every bolt, inspect every gear, and write a complete forensic report for your mother's lawyers.”
“Can it be repaired?” Celeste asked, her business instincts immediately kicking back into gear.
“The frame is solid aerospace-grade aluminum,” Boone answered, tapping the main structural support.
“But the right knee assembly needs to be entirely re-machined from scratch with proper tolerances.”
“Can you do that?” Piper asked, leaning forward in her wheelchair with intense focus.
Boone looked down at her legs, then up into her eyes, seeing the fierce determination hidden beneath the exhaustion.
“With the right machine tools and a couple of days? Yeah, I can build a joint that won't betray you.”
Celeste closed her checkbook binder with a sharp snap that echoed across the quiet penthouse floor.
“Consider yourself officially retained as Veyron’s worst nightmare, Boone Halloway.”
Boone gave a faint, crooked grin, nodding once before turning toward the private elevator.
“I'll send you an itemized invoice for the hydraulic lift repair,” he joked dryly as the doors opened.
“Only the lift, mind you.”
With that, the mechanic stepped into the elevator and descended forty-two floors back to his battered work truck.
As the steel doors closed, Celeste turned back to look at her daughter with a fierce, protective intensity.
“We are going to dismantle Veyron from the boardroom down to the assembly floor,” Celeste vowed.
Piper looked down at her legs, feeling a strange, unfamiliar sensation bubbling up from deep within her chest.
It wasn't despair.
It wasn't fear.
It was absolute, unbridled rage—and for the first time, it was pointed entirely outward at the people who deserved it.
“No, Mom,” Piper said softly, looking up to meet her mother’s intense gaze.
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“We aren't just going to dismantle Veyron... we are going to make them watch us build something better.”
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