The showroom looked exactly the same.
That surprised Caleb.
He had expected scandal to alter the physical world.
The glass still shone.
The coffee machine still hissed.
A Ferrari sat beneath lights near the entrance.
A Bentley customer laughed with a salesperson.
Businesses could experience moral crises while the furniture remained perfectly aligned.
Maya met them.
No Grant.
No Peter.
Charlotte Gaines introduced herself briefly, apologized without overperforming, then left Maya to conduct the handover.
Darius appreciated that.
The day belonged to Caleb.
Maya opened the delivery folder.
“Let’s try this again.”
Caleb smiled.
“Good morning.”
“Identification?”
He handed it over.
“Insurance?”
“Already there.”
“Authorization?”
“Still there.”
“VIN?”
Caleb read it aloud.
Maya checked.
“Matches.”
She looked at him.
“Congratulations.”
Simple.
Exactly as it should have been the first time.
They walked around the Urus.
Maya showed him a small paint-protection edge near the rear arch.
Explained break-in recommendations.
Paired his phone.
Reviewed the drive modes.
Darius listened for three minutes before asking a question about suspension calibration that had nothing to do with normal ownership.
Caleb looked at Maya.
“I warned you.”
She laughed.
Eventually the keys were placed in Caleb’s hand.
He looked at them.
Three weeks earlier he had imagined this moment differently.
Graduation.
Excitement.
His father probably embarrassing him with a photograph.
Now the keys carried more weight than they should.
Darius noticed.
“You don’t have to take it.”
Caleb looked up.
“What?”
“If the whole thing ruined it for you.”
Caleb considered that.
“No.”
He looked at the Lamborghini.
“They don’t get to ruin it.”
Darius smiled.
“Good answer.”
Caleb walked to the driver’s side.
Then stopped.
“Maya.”
She looked up.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not pretending the file changed when it didn’t.”
Her expression softened.
“That should be the minimum.”
“Apparently the minimum matters.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
Caleb started the engine.
The V8 filled the delivery bay.
Darius shook his head.
“Completely impractical.”
Caleb stared at him through the open window.
“You bought it.”
“Temporary lapse in judgment.”
“Get in.”
Darius walked around to the passenger side.
“You’re driving?”
“It’s my car.”
“That remains emotionally difficult for me.”
Caleb laughed.
They pulled out together.
No crowd.
No triumphant music.
No Grant Mercer standing defeated by the doors.
Just a father and son leaving a dealership in a vehicle that should have been delivered three weeks earlier.
Halfway home, Caleb slowed at a traffic light.
Darius looked over.
“You like it.”
Caleb tried to remain neutral.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine.”
“Very competent.”