The words stay in the air long after Adrian says them.
Your brakes failed.
For a moment, no one in the boardroom speaks.
The noise from earlier—the accusations, the arguments, the chaos—has disappeared completely.
Now there is only the quiet, suffocating weight of a new realization.
My accident wasn’t just an accident.
Someone planned it.
I stare at the black box report on the table.
Numbers.
Data.
Cold mechanical facts.
But every line feels personal.
“You’re sure?” I ask quietly.
Adrian nods once. “The system recorded brake pressure failure six seconds before you left the road.”
My throat tightens. “Six seconds…”
Margaret speaks carefully. “The SUV boxed your car toward the shoulder.”
“But it didn’t hit me,” I whisper.
“No.”
Adrian’s jaw tightens slightly. “You tried to
