“It’s the intake,” Ethan said, louder now. “I can fix it before your service team gets here.”
Bennett’s laughter faded into a smirk. “You? If you touch one thing and damage it, I’ll make sure your father never works here again. Not a single reference. Not a dollar more. Understand?”
“I won’t damage it,” Ethan replied. Then, meeting the billionaire’s eyes, he asked, “If I fix it, how much will you pay me?”
Silence fell.
No one spoke to Daniel Bennett like that.
“You want to make a deal?” Bennett said coldly. “Fine. You’ve got ten minutes. If the car starts, I’ll give you everything in my wallet. If you fail—or scratch it—you and your father are gone. Deal?”
It was a reckless gamble. Ethan knew his father depended on that job. But he also knew what he’d heard in the engine.
He nodded.
Ethan leaned over the Phantom’s engine. He had no proper tools—just a small flathead screwdriver from his pocket. He scanned the components, ignoring the heat burning his fingertips.
“One minute,” one guard mocked.
Air. Fuel. Spark. Compression.
He traced the airflow in his mind. Before the engine died, he’d heard a faint whistle—too subtle for most people to notice.
Air where it didn’t belong.
“Five minutes left,” Bennett called. “People like you should know your limits.”
People like you.
The words sharpened Ethan’s focus instead of breaking it. He visualized the airflow again—filter, sensor, throttle body.
Then he saw it.
A small vacuum hose tucked beneath a plastic cover. Slightly loose. Almost invisible.
He slid his hand into the narrow gap, biting back a cry as the metal burned his skin. His fingers found the hose—it had slipped from its clamp. Extra air would confuse the sensor, sending faulty readings to the onboard computer, which would shut down ignition to prevent damage.
He tried to reseat it, but his fingers slipped.
“Time’s up!” Bennett snapped. “Pull him away.”
A bodyguard grabbed Ethan’s shoulder. In the struggle, Ethan forced the hose into place and twisted the tiny clamp with his fingernail until it tightened. Pain shot through his thumb as his nail split.
“It’s done!” Ethan shouted as he was shoved back onto the gravel.
Dust rose around him.
“Try it,” he said, breathing hard. “Turn the key.”
Bennett scoffed. “You think that’ll help?”
“If it doesn’t start, we’ll leave,” Ethan said, standing. “But if it does… you keep your word.”