“Asked for it,” the woman finished. “I know. My husband died in a red car just like that one.” She nodded toward the Ferrari. “He wanted speed. I want to get home safely.”

“We’re closed,” Lia said softly.

He shrugged. “We open tomorrow. New cars. Same dreams.”

Lia blinked. “That’s a 2019 commuter hybrid. No one’s ever…”

The woman paid cash—full price. As she drove the silver sedan off the lot, the rain stopped. The showroom felt suddenly smaller, like a stage after the lead actor leaves.

Lia turned to Marcus. “What now?”