Chapter 7 - The Diner Owner Who Knew Too Much
Albert denied everything.
That was predictable.
Clarina did not confront him alone.
Naomi arranged counsel.
Investigators joined.
Christian stayed out because his presence made Albert stop thinking clearly.
The photograph was shown.
Albert looked at it.
Then at Clarina.
“That’s not me.”
“It is.”
“No.”
“Same scar on your chin.”
Albert touched his face automatically.
Naomi almost smiled.
Albert swore.
The truth came out slowly.
Before the Starlight, Albert had worked catering and facilities contracts at European racing events.
He was in Valencia during the prototype test.
Not an engineer.
Not management.
He serviced garage hospitality.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Clarina asked.
Albert looked ashamed.
“I recognized you when you applied.”
Her chest tightened.
“You knew who I was?”
“Yes.”
“And hired me anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You needed work.”
“That is not enough.”
He looked down.
“I knew they lied.”
Clarina went still.
“What did you see?”
“Templeton and Hutton arguing after the fire.”
“About?”
“I was clearing coffee.”
“Albert.”
“Hutton said, ‘The girl warned you.’ Templeton said, ‘Then the girl becomes the problem.’”
Clarina closed her eyes.
Five years.
Albert had known one sentence that might have changed everything.
“You said nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Hutton’s people owned the catering contractor. I had a wife. Two kids.”
“And I had a sick brother.”
“I know.”
“No. You learned that later.”
He flinched.
“You let me serve coffee in your diner for three years knowing I had been framed.”
“I gave you work.”
The sentence almost made her stand.
Naomi put one hand on the table.
Clarina breathed.
“I am not going to thank you for giving me minimum wage after watching my career get stolen.”
Albert looked smaller.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why the photograph now?”
“I didn't send it.”
Everyone went still.
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Albert reached into his desk.
He produced an old envelope.
No stamp.
Inside was a duplicate photo.
He had received it six months earlier.
On the back:
IF SHE EVER TOUCHES A VALKYRIE AGAIN, TELL THE TRUTH.
Clarina’s skin went cold.
Six months earlier.
Before Christian’s car failed.
Someone knew.
“Who had access to the photo?” Naomi asked.
Albert shook his head.
“No idea.”
The investigation widened.
Again.
Christian’s car failure no longer looked random.
Someone had deliberately installed HCA-17B.
Someone expected Clarina to encounter the car.
But how could they know Christian would stop at the Starlight?
Then Greg found the answer.
The Valkyrie had been serviced at a boutique performance shop in Los Angeles before Christian’s Nevada trip.
The shop owner had received a routing request from Christian’s office to “check for fuel near I-15 during storm delays.”
The request came from Greg’s scheduling system.
Greg had not sent it.
His account had been compromised.
Christian looked furious.
Clarina looked practical.
“Who knew my work schedule?”
“Public?”
“No.”
“Albert.”
Everyone looked at Albert.
He paled.
“I didn't—”
“Who else?”
“My shift manager. Payroll company.”
Naomi checked.
The payroll company had recently been acquired.
By a Northstar subsidiary once connected to Hutton.
Christian swore.
A setup.
Not to kill him.
To strand his car near Clarina.
Why?
Publicity?
A test?
A trap?
Then an email arrived at Clarina’s new facility.
Anonymous.
Subject:
YOU PASSED.
One line:
SHE STILL HAS THE HANDS.
Attached was a technical drawing of an actuator system Clarina had designed privately years earlier.
Never published.
Never patented.
Stored only on an encrypted personal drive confiscated during the old lawsuit and later returned.
Her blood went cold.
“They copied my files.”
Naomi looked at the drawing.
“Who had custody?”
“Templeton’s legal team during discovery.”
Christian’s expression hardened.
“They weren’t trying to destroy your career.”
Clarina looked at him.
“What?”
“They were stealing it.”
The idea was worse because it made sense.
Templeton had not only needed Clarina discredited.
He needed her designs available without her credibility attached.
They audited patent filings.
There it was.
A thermal-control concept filed three years earlier by a Templeton affiliate.
Different language.
Same architecture.
Clarina’s architecture.
She stared at the claims.
“They stole my work.”
Naomi nodded.
“This is litigable.”
“I don’t want five more years of court.”
“Then don’t.”
Christian looked at her.
She turned.
“Do not offer to buy the company.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“Briefly.”
She almost laughed.
Instead, she called Toby.
He was home from Baltimore now.
Counts improving.
Hair beginning to grow back.
“Hey,” he said.
“They stole one of my designs.”
“Cool.”
“What?”
“Not cool they stole it. Cool you made something worth stealing.”
She closed her eyes.
Teenage philosophy.
“So what do I do?”
“Do you want it back?”
“Yes.”
“Then get it back.”
“How?”
“I don't know. I'm seventeen.”
Fair.
Clarina authorized Naomi to file a focused intellectual-property action and seek correction of inventorship.
Not revenge.
Ownership.
Templeton’s lawyers offered settlement within two weeks.
Money.
Confidentiality.
No admission.
Clarina refused.
“What do you want?” Naomi asked.
“My name on the patent.”
“Anything else?”
“A public technical correction.”
“That will hurt them.”
“Truth tends to.”
Before settlement could finish, Riker Templeton disappeared.
Not from the country.
From his house.
His phone left behind.
His car at the airport.
No flight.
The next morning, Christian arrived at the Reno facility with a bruise on his jaw.
Clarina stared.
“What happened?”
“Hutton.”
“What?”
“He came to my house.”
“Why?”
“To ask me to stop looking for Templeton.”
“Did you hit him?”
“He hit me first.”
“Christian.”
“I hit him once.”
“Of course.”
“He is surprisingly fragile.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“What did he say?”
Christian handed her a note.
Templeton had left it with Hutton.
One sentence.
ASK CLARINA WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO TOBY’S FIRST DONOR MATCH.
The room tilted.
May you like
Clarina looked up.
“What does my brother have to do with this?”
