My High-Society Father Dismissed My Supersonic Jet Warnings As Hysteria Until He Crashed The Simulator — Then The Defense Board Forced Me To Take His Place
The sudden, stark silence Arthur left behind felt almost heavier than the preceding chaos. The air in the hangar was thick with unexpressed shock and fury. General Kensington stood frozen for a beat, his hand still half-raised, his expression a mixture of disbelief and steely resolve.
Then, he turned from the now-darkened press screen. His gaze found mine, steady and unwavering. He walked directly towards me, the Defense Procurement Board members trailing in his wake, their faces grim but resolute.
“Dr. Harrington,” Kensington began, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. “Arthur Harrington’s actions today, compounded by the evidence of corporate fraud, deliberate sabotage of a military procurement process, and gross safety violations, are unforgivable.”
He gestured to the board members. “Effective immediately, Harrington Aerospace is hereby disqualified from the XR-12 Specter program.”
A collective sigh, almost a groan, escaped the high-society investors in the room. Years of prestige, millions in potential earnings, all gone in an instant.
Kensington reached into his breast pocket and produced a sleek, official-looking document. He offered it to me.
“Dr. Harrington,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion, “your proven technical expertise, your integrity in exposing these critical flaws, and your invaluable contribution to the Specter’s original design—and its rescue today—are beyond dispute.”
My hand trembled slightly as I took the document. It was a preliminary Letter of Intent, but its implications were monumental.
“The Defense Procurement Board,” Kensington concluded, his gaze firm, “is prepared to offer the prime defense engineering contract directly to your newly registered firm. You will be granted full legal rights to every flight algorithm your biological father, Dr. Harlan Rhodes, and you created for the Specter program.”
The words echoed in the suddenly silent hangar. My new firm. Full legal rights. The legacy Arthur had stolen, the work he had claimed as his own, was finally mine. Not as a Harrington, but as myself.
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