He recognized the sound instantly—pressurized brake fluid escaping through a tiny hole.
A sweet chemical smell followed: DOT 4 brake fluid.
Ethan’s heart pounded. The man had punctured the brake line with a needle, creating a slow leak. The brakes would seem fine at first, but every time they were used, more fluid would escape. Eventually the system would fail completely—most likely on a downhill road.
“It’s done,” the man said, sliding out.
Lydia handed him a thick envelope.
“Disappear.”
After he left, she smiled cruelly at the car.
“Enjoy the ride, cousin,” she whispered before returning to the party.
Ethan trembled. The Rolls-Royce looked like a wounded animal slowly bleeding onto the floor.
He had to warn someone.
At that moment the chauffeur, Marcus, entered the garage. Dressed in a perfect navy uniform with white gloves, Marcus treated the Rolls-Royce like royalty.
“Perfect,” he murmured, polishing the hood ornament.
He began inspecting the car, but only for cosmetic details.
Then he noticed the small dark stain beneath the front wheel.
Ethan held his breath.
Marcus leaned closer.
“Just condensation from the air conditioner,” he muttered.
Ethan couldn’t stay silent.
“That’s not water!”