She worked fast after that, cross-referencing Ethan's notes against Denise's footage, building a timeline that showed in exhaustive detail exactly how the repair had been diagnosed and executed using entirely original problem solving. Nothing borrowed, nothing stolen, nothing that resembled the patent Precision Dine Technologies claimed had been violated. 5 minutes, Dutch said. Dutch. Marlene's phone buzzed. one final time before the hearing, and she read it fast, her expression unreadable for a long, agonizing second before she looked up.
"Judge is taking the bench now," she said. "I'm about to submit everything we've got electronically right up until the second they call the case. It's not a guarantee, but it's everything we can give them." "Do it," Marcus said.
She did fingers moving fast across the keyboard, uploading files, attaching Ethan's handwritten notes, scanned quickly on her phone, attaching time-stamped clips from Denise's footage, building the strongest case she could construct in the handful of minutes she had left. "Submitted," she said, finally sitting back. "Now we wait."
The waiting was its own kind of torture. Marcus paced the length of the garage, unable to sit still, unable to look away from his phone, even though there was nothing on it yet that could tell him anything. Dutch stood near the door, watching the road like he expected police cars to appear the second the hearing ended badly. Sal had gone quiet, some of his earlier enthusiasm dampened by the reality that fixing the bike and saving the bike had turned out to be two very different battles. Reaper stood near Ethan, arms crossed again, but the posture had changed less suspicion now, more the protective stance of someone standing guard.
"You did everything right," Reaper said quietly to Ethan. Whatever happens in that courtroom, you should know that. Whatever that judge decides, you fixed what three grown men with fancy degrees couldn't. Ethan looked up at him, surprised by the words coming from a man who tried to turn him away at the gate that same morning. Thank you.
Don't thank me. I was wrong about you. Reaper's voice was gruff, but the honesty in it was unmistakable. Doesn't happen often. Figured you deserve to hear it when it does.
It was nearly 20 minutes before Marlene's phone rang. an actual call this time instead of a text. And the entire garage went silent, watching her answer it, watching her face for any flicker of what was coming. "This is Marlene," she said, and then listened and listened and listened, her expression giving away absolutely nothing while Marcus felt his heart pounding hard enough to hear in his own ears. "Understood," she said finally. "Thank you for the update."
She hung up, and for one terrible second, nobody in that garage breathed. Well, Marcus asked barely above a whisper. Marlene looked around the room slowly and then finally allowed the smallest, most controlled smile to cross her face. The judge reviewed our submission. He found the documentation compelling enough to deny the emergency injunction outright.