ASHES ON THE HIGHWAY

Chapter 101

The email arrived in Renata’s inbox on a Tuesday morning, forwarded to the compound within the hour, its contents enough to summon an emergency briefing before Cadence had even finished her school day.

"Someone’s challenging the authenticity of your technical documentation," Renata said, spreading a printed copy of the filing across the chapel table. "Castellan’s legal team is arguing that the fabrication process records Cadence helped compile were altered after the fact, specifically to strengthen the case against Praxis."

"That’s absurd," Sandra said immediately. "Every document has proper timestamps, chain of custody records—"

"They’re not disputing the documents’ original content," Renata clarified. "They’re disputing whether Cadence, specifically, had the technical authority to compile them accurately. Their filing describes her as—" she checked the language carefully, "—’a minor with no formal engineering credentials, whose contributions to this case should be considered unreliable at best, and potentially deliberately misleading.’"

Rowe felt fury rise, sharp and immediate. "They’re attacking a sixteen-year-old’s credibility because they can’t attack the actual evidence."

"That’s precisely the strategy," Renata confirmed grimly. "If they can convince the judge to exclude or discount the technical documentation Cadence helped assemble, it weakens our case considerably, even though the underlying evidence remains accurate."

Cadence, who’d arrived partway through the briefing straight from the garage, still in her work clothes, absorbed this with visible tension beneath her characteristic composure. "They’re saying I lied," she said slowly. "Or that I’m too young to actually understand what I was documenting."

"They’re saying whatever serves their legal strategy," Reaper said firmly, old protective fury evident beneath his careful calm. "Nothing about this reflects your actual competence, Cadence. This is a tactic, not truth."

"I know that," Cadence said, though her voice carried a thin edge Rowe recognized as genuine hurt beneath the practiced steadiness. "Doesn’t make it feel great, hearing someone dismiss months of work because I’m sixteen."

Renata’s counter-strategy required Cadence’s direct involvement in a way none of them had fully anticipated.

"I want to depose you formally," Renata said gently, once the immediate sting of the filing had settled into strategic planning. "On record, under oath, walking through exactly how you compiled the documentation, what technical knowledge informed your work, how the garage’s training and your direct daily involvement in fabrication qualifies you considerably more than most adults to recognize these specific processes."

"You want me to testify," Cadence said, some of her usual confidence returning at the prospect of concrete action rather than passive frustration.

"Eventually, if this goes to trial," Renata confirmed. "For now, a deposition, which Castellan’s team will use to try to poke holes in your credibility. I need you prepared for that, Cadence. They’re going to be aggressive, potentially condescending, deliberately trying to fluster you into contradicting yourself."

"I can handle it," Cadence said immediately.

"I believe you can," Renata said. "But I want you genuinely prepared, not just confident. We’re going to spend the next two weeks doing mock depositions, working through every possible angle their attorney might use."

Reaper studied his daughter with visible concern warring against pride. "You don’t have to do this," he said. "We can find other ways to defend the documentation without putting you directly in their crosshairs."

"I already am in their crosshairs, Dad," Cadence said, meeting his eyes with the particular steady resolve Rowe recognized as inherited directly from both parents. "They already tried to discredit me. I’d rather fight that directly than just hide from it."

Rowe felt her chest tighten with fierce, complicated pride — recognizing in her daughter’s determination the same instinct that had once driven Rowe herself to refuse hiding from danger, even as the mother in her ached at watching her child face this kind of adult, calculated cruelty.

The mock depositions proved genuinely grueling, Renata adopting an aggressive, deliberately condescending tone that left Cadence visibly rattled during the first session.

"You claim to understand advanced metallurgical fabrication techniques," Renata said, playing the role of Castellan’s attorney with unsettling precision, "yet you’ve never completed a single formal engineering course. Isn’t it more accurate to say you simply repeated terminology you’d heard adults use, without genuine comprehension of the underlying science?"

"I—" Cadence started, then stopped, visible frustration crossing her expression at the deliberately dismissive framing.

"Take your time," Renata said, breaking character briefly. "This is exactly the kind of question they’ll ask. You need an answer that doesn’t just defend your knowledge, but demonstrates it clearly enough that dismissing you becomes obviously unreasonable."

They worked through it repeatedly over the following days, Cadence gradually developing answers that drew directly on her genuine, accumulated hands-on experience rather than simply asserting confidence.

"I’ve worked in this garage since I was twelve," she said during their fourth practice session, her voice considerably steadier. "I’ve personally performed the specific fabrication techniques described in that documentation over three hundred times, under direct supervision from master fabricators with decades of experience. I don’t need a university degree to recognize a process I’ve physically executed with my own hands more times than most licensed engineers ever will in their careers."

"Better," Renata said, genuine approval evident in her voice. "Considerably better."

The formal deposition, held two weeks later in Renata’s office with Castellan’s attorney presiding alongside a court reporter, proceeded with exactly the aggressive, condescending tone Renata had predicted.

"Miss Kane," the attorney began, his tone carrying deliberate, practiced dismissiveness, "you’re sixteen years old, correct?"

"Yes," Cadence said, her voice steady despite the obvious strategy behind the question.

"And you claim expertise in complex industrial fabrication processes that most professional engineers spend years in formal education mastering."

"I don’t claim expertise equivalent to a licensed engineer," Cadence said carefully, exactly as she and Renata had practiced. "I claim direct, hands-on experience performing these specific techniques repeatedly under expert supervision. Those are different things, and I think conflating them is exactly the strategy you’re hoping will confuse the record."

The attorney’s composure flickered slightly at the pointed observation. "That’s quite an assertive response for someone your age."

"I’ve had considerable practice being direct," Cadence said. "This family doesn’t really do vague."

Rowe, watching from the observation room with Reaper, felt fierce pride mixing with visible relief at her daughter’s composed, confident performance throughout the grueling two-hour deposition, Cadence methodically defending her technical knowledge and documentation practices without once losing her careful composure despite considerable provocation.

"She’s remarkable," Reaper murmured, watching through the glass with visible awe.

"She’s terrifying," Rowe corrected, laughing softly despite her own accumulated tension. "In exactly the best possible way."

The deposition, once formally reviewed, strengthened rather than weakened the case; Cadence’s clear, confident testimony effectively neutralized Castellan’s attempt to discredit the technical documentation through age-based dismissal.

"This actually helps us considerably," Renata reported that evening, genuine satisfaction evident in her assessment. "Her testimony demonstrates exactly the kind of direct, credible expertise that makes their credibility challenge look desperate rather than substantive."

The victory, however, arrived alongside a considerably more unsettling development.

Cadence’s phone buzzed with an unknown number just after the family had finished celebrating the deposition’s successful outcome, her expression shifting from casual curiosity to genuine alarm as she read the message.

"What is it?" Rowe asked immediately, old instinct sharpening at her daughter’s sudden tension.

Cadence turned the phone around, revealing a message that made Rowe’s blood run instantly cold.

Nice performance today. Won’t matter once the judge sees what really happens to families who don’t know when to stop fighting. Watch yourself, little girl.

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