Badass in Disguise Chapter 199

Jade's POV:

I was in a taxi, taking the long way back to my place, when I spotted the sign for Mike's Auto Service.

I asked the driver to pull over.

As I approached the garage after paying the taxi, I noticed a sleek red Porsche parked near the entrance, looking wildly out of place among the beat-up sedans and trucks. Through the open bay door, I could hear raised voices.

"I've replaced the timing belt and checked the transmission as requested," Silas was saying, his voice tight but professional. "Here's your bill, Mr. Coleman."

I paused near the entrance, observing the scene inside. Silas stood by the Mercedes in blue overalls, a clipboard in hand. Across from him was a well-dressed man in his mid-forties—expensive suit, designer watch, artificially tanned skin. He was standing too close to Silas, his body language invasive.

"You have quite the talent with your hands," the man said, ignoring the clipboard Silas was offering. His voice dripped with suggestion. "A smart, good-looking young man like you could do better than this place."

Silas took a small step back. "I'm happy with my job, sir."

I slipped inside, pretending to examine a service price list on the wall. The bell above the door jangled, but neither of them paid me any attention.

Coleman—that was what Silas had called him—moved closer again, closing the distance Silas had created. "Come now, Princeton isn't cheap. I hear you're on scholarship? I bet you could use some extra cash." His hand brushed against Silas's arm. "I could help with that."

Silas's jaw tightened visibly. "My car service comes with the bill, nothing more. If you're satisfied with the repairs, I'd appreciate payment."

Coleman laughed, the sound oily and grating. "I'm on the alumni advisory board at Princeton," he said, lowering his voice. "I have friends on the scholarship committee. It would be a shame if anything happened to your funding."

I'd heard enough. I stepped forward, smiling brightly. "Excuse me, I'm here about my car? The Honda with the brake issue?"

Both men turned. Silas's expression remained neutral, but I caught the brief flash of relief in his eyes. Coleman looked annoyed at the interruption.

"We don't have any Hondas scheduled today," Silas said evenly.

"Oh, that's strange," I frowned, pulling out my phone. "Let me check my confirmation."

Coleman turned back to Silas with an impatient huff. "As I was saying," he continued, voice lower now, "I understand your mother is in the hospital. Medical bills can be crushing for someone in your... situation."

Silas stiffened. "That's not your concern."

"All I'm asking is for you to join me for a drink," Coleman persisted. "We could discuss your future. I know people who could make your academic career very smooth."

"I prefer to earn my grades," Silas replied coldly.

Coleman's friendly façade slipped. "Don't be naive. You think a kid from your background gets into Princeton without someone pulling strings?"

"I earned my place," Silas said quietly, intensity burning in his eyes. "And I'm only here to fix cars, Mr. Coleman. Please respect that."

Coleman leaned in, dropping all pretense. "Listen, you ungrateful little shit. Do you know how many kids would kill for the opportunity I'm offering? One call from me, and that scholarship disappears."

When Coleman's hand clamped around Silas's wrist, I stepped forward. "Is there a problem here?" I asked, my voice carrying across the garage.

Coleman barely glanced at me. "This is a private conversation. Mind your own business."

"Actually," I said, holding up my phone, "I've been recording the last few minutes. Including that lovely threat about his scholarship."

Coleman released Silas's wrist and spun toward me. "You're bluffing."

I turned my screen toward him, showing the active recording app. "Princeton has a strict policy against alumni using their influence to solicit... favors... from students. I wonder what the board would think about this recording?"

Coleman's face flushed an ugly red. "Give me that phone!"

He lunged toward me, but I sidestepped easily. His momentum carried him forward, and he stumbled. When he regained his balance, his expression had turned truly ugly.

"My driver's outside," he snarled. "Carlos! Get in here!"

A stocky man in a black suit appeared at the door, his stance immediately alerting me to his training. Not military, but some kind of security background.

"This bitch is threatening me," Coleman said. "Get her phone."

The driver moved toward me with practiced efficiency. I maintained my casual stance, waiting until he was close enough before I moved. His first grab for my phone was predictable—I pivoted away and used his momentum to throw him off balance. When he came at me again, I caught his wrist in a joint lock that brought him to his knees with a surprised grunt.

"I wouldn't," I said calmly, applying just enough pressure to make him wince. "You seem like a professional. You should know when you're outmatched."

Coleman stared in disbelief. "What the fuck?"

I released the driver, who scrambled back, rubbing his wrist and eyeing me with new wariness.

A door at the back of the shop opened, and a burly older man emerged. "What the hell is going on out here?"

"Mike," Silas acknowledged him with obvious relief. "This is Mr. Coleman. He was just leaving."

Coleman straightened his jacket, attempting to regain his composure. "Your employee has been extremely rude. And this woman assaulted my driver."

"That's not what happened," I said, holding up my phone. "I have a recording of Mr. Coleman sexually harassing Silas and threatening his scholarship if he didn't comply."

Mike's expression hardened as he looked between us. "Is that true, Silas?"

Silas hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "Mr. Coleman suggested we have drinks to discuss my 'future,'" he finally said. "I declined."

I hit play on my recording, and Coleman's voice filled the garage: *"One call from me, and that scholarship disappears."*

Mike's face darkened with anger. "We don't tolerate that kind of behavior here, Mr. Coleman. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"This is ridiculous," Coleman sputtered. "She edited that—"

"In the last thirty seconds?" Mike asked skeptically. "Pay your bill and go, or I'm calling the police."

Coleman glared at each of us in turn, then snatched the bill from the counter, scrawling his signature violently across the bottom. He slapped down a credit card.

While Silas processed the payment, Coleman leaned toward me. "I don't know who you are," he said quietly, "but you've made a powerful enemy today."

I smiled coldly. "So have you."

After Coleman stormed out, his driver following with a last wary glance at me, Mike turned to me with a grateful expression.

"Thank you for stepping in," he said. "Silas is one of my best mechanics. Doesn't deserve that kind of treatment."

I shrugged. "I don't like bullies."

Mike nodded appreciatively. "Next time you need your car serviced, come here. I'll give you a discount."

When Mike returned to his office, Silas approached me, wiping his hands on a shop rag. His expression was a mix of gratitude and wariness.

"You didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

"I know," I replied.

He studied me, those intense eyes searching my face. "Why did you?"

I considered my answer carefully. "Some people think money can buy anything. Even dignity. I disagree."

Silas nodded slowly, then turned away, clearly expecting me to leave. He wanted us to go back to being strangers who occasionally crossed paths at school.

I was about to go when I decided to play my card. "I've seen your brother," I said casually.

Silas froze, then slowly turned back to face me.