“No.”
“Why?”
“Because people can love you and still underestimate you.”
The CEO looked out the window.
That truth hurt more than a comforting lie.
The Single Dad continued.
“Doesn’t mean he was right.”
She turned.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not making him perfect because he’s dead.”
The Single Dad nodded.
Dead people did not need false polishing.
Back at the garage, they documented every remaining numbered component.
Two more original items were missing.
A carburetor assembly had been swapped.
A period-correct voltage regulator too.
The auction trail showed both moved through the former Collection Manager’s network.
The case strengthened.
The police obtained warrants.
Records revealed sales from multiple collectors.
Not only the CEO’s father.
A network had been quietly removing high-value original parts during restoration work and replacing them with convincing replicas.
Collectors still possessed functioning cars.
Often never realizing authenticity had been diluted.
The scheme worked precisely because wealthy owners sometimes paid others to know their possessions for them.
The CEO hated that observation.
Because it was true.
She called every client connected with the old Collection Manager.
Several dismissed her.
One said:
“My car runs perfectly.”
She answered:
“That isn’t the question.”
The Single Dad heard and smiled.
She glared.
“You infected me.”
“Evidence-based thinking.”
“Awful condition.”
Investigators eventually recovered enough documents to build a major fraud and theft case.
The former Collection Manager was arrested.
Two brokers followed.
Several high-value original components were recovered.
The CEO’s distributor returned.
The carburetor did not.
The regulator remained missing.
She expected to feel victory.
Instead she felt tired.
The Ferrari was still silent.
The Single Dad looked at her.
“Ready?”
“For what?”
“To start fixing the car.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“That’s what we’ve been doing.”
“No.”
“We’ve been preserving evidence.”
“Now we restore function.”
The real mechanical work began.
The hidden system itself was sound.
The original engine was healthy despite years of inactivity.
Fuel system required cleaning.
Seals replaced.
Fluids.
Carburetor tuning.
Ignition timing.
Cooling inspection.
The Single Dad involved the senior mechanics who had laughed at him.
The CEO noticed.
“Why them?”
“They’re good.”
“They humiliated you.”
“They laughed.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the same thing as being incompetent.”
She stared.
“You’re more forgiving than I am.”
“No.”
“I’m more interested in getting the car right.”
One mechanic apologized.
Awkwardly.
The Single Dad accepted.
No speech.
No revenge.
That irritated the CEO because she had prepared several excellent revenge fantasies on his behalf.
She did not share them.
Over the following week, the garage changed around him.
The Single Dad still swept floors at night.
But during the day, specialists began asking questions.
Electrical routing.
Original specifications.
Period modifications.
He answered when he knew.
Said “I don’t know” when he did not.
That impressed them more.
One afternoon, the Garage Owner handed him a mechanic’s shirt.
The Single Dad looked at it.