CHAPTER 2: THE NAME HE TRIED TO HIDE
That night, the boy was still there.
Sitting on an overturned crate in the corner of the garage, eating a sandwich someone silently left near him.
No one dared ask him to leave.
The supercar was running perfectly now—too perfectly, the engineers admitted. Better than factory condition.
The millionaire stood near the glass wall, staring out into the rain, phone pressed to his ear.
“I want everything you can find on a child fixing high-performance ECU systems,” he said coldly. “Everything.”
A pause.
Then his expression changed.
Something appeared on the screen.
A small orphan intake file.
No name. Just a code.
But a photo was attached.
The millionaire froze.
Across the garage, the boy looked up briefly—as if he felt it.
Their eyes met.
And just like that, the millionaire understood something wasn’t right.
He walked back slowly.
Crouched in front of the boy.
“What’s your name?”
The boy tightened his grip on the sandwich.
For a moment, it looked like he wouldn’t answer at all.
Then—
“…Eli.”
A lie. The millionaire could tell immediately.
But he didn’t push.
Instead, he said something no one expected.
“You didn’t ruin my car.”
A beat.
“You saved it.”
May you like
The boy blinked once. Just once.
But it was enough to show how long it had been since anyone said something like that to him.
