Chapter 5 - The Sabotage
For the next two months, I poured every ounce of my soul into "Evelyn’s Auto." I repainted the sign, repaired the roof by hand, and slowly began taking in small jobs—oil changes, brake pads, minor engine repairs. Maya was true to her word, bringing her diner’s delivery vans to me and sending a steady trickle of locals my way.
I was barely breaking even, eating ramen noodles and sleeping in the freezing office, but the dark cloud of guilt that had followed me from Evelyn’s funeral was beginning to lift. I was finally becoming the man she saw in her journal.
But Richard Vance had other plans.
He showed up on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, stepping out of a sleek black Mercedes in a tailored suit that cost more than my entire shop was worth. He was a tall, imposing man with cold, calculating eyes.
"Leo, I presume," Vance said, looking around the garage with a sneer of pure disdain. "I’ll cut to the chase. I want this lot. I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars for the deed today. You can take the money, leave this dying town, and go ruin someone else's neighborhood."
"It's not for sale, Mr. Vance," I said, wiping a wrench with a rag. "Not for fifty thousand. Not for five million."
Vance’s eyes narrowed. "You're a long way from home, boy. This town operates on my schedule. You have no money, no leverage, and no friends. Sell the land, or I will make sure you lose it to foreclosure by the end of the year."
"Get off my property," I said, pointing the wrench at the door.
Vance smiled, a terrifying, predatory expression. "Have it your way."
The retaliation was swift and brutal. Two nights later, I woke up to the sound of shattering glass. I ran out of the office to find the newly installed front windows of the garage completely smashed in. The tires on the three customer cars I had in the lot were slashed.
A week later, the city inspector—a man famously in Vance’s pocket—showed up and slapped me with thousands of dollars in sudden, obscure code violations, threatening to shut off my power if they weren't fixed in thirty days.
The locals, terrified of Vance's influence, stopped bringing their cars to me. Even Maya’s diner was threatened with a sudden rent hike if she continued doing business with me.
I was drowning all over again.
Late one night, sitting on the cold concrete floor surrounded by broken glass and unpaid violation notices, the old, familiar voice in my head returned. Run. You're a fraud. You can't fix this. Just run away, like you always do.
I packed my duffel bag. I grabbed the keys to my truck. I was ready to leave Evelyn's dream behind.
But as I reached for the shoebox to pack it away, my fingers brushed against a strange seam at the bottom of the cardboard. It felt unusually thick.
Frowning, I pulled my pocket knife and carefully slit the lining of the box. A hidden compartment peeled back.
Inside was a cashier's check for twenty-five thousand dollars.
And a small, yellow sticky note in Evelyn's handwriting: For the rainy days, Leo. Don't let the bullies win. You are stronger than you think.
May you like
I dropped to my knees, clutching the note to my chest as a sob tore through my throat. She had known. Even from the grave, she knew exactly when I would break, and she reached out to catch me. I wiped my tears, a burning, fierce resolve igniting in my blood.
I wasn't running anymore.
