William looked out of his office window at the Harrow Industrial Park, watching the morning sun cast long shadows across the sprawling complex. The early December air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh paint and the distant hum of machinery. Over the past two months, the complex had gained new vitality—a transformation that filled him with quiet satisfaction.
He had seized the opportunity while employees were away to renovate a good portion of the occupied area. Buildings that had stood weathered and neglected for years were now plastered and repainted in clean whites and industrial greys. Windows gleamed in the morning light, and in places like the large manufacturing sheds where natural light had never reached, he'd ordered the installation of innovative light wells. Turbo ventilators crowned every building, their metal shapes spinning lazily in the breeze. The electrical work, which had been deteriorating for nearly fifteen years, had been completely overhauled. Old wires were stripped out and replaced with modern copper lines, broken electronics were either repaired or replaced entirely, and the fire safety system had been checked and completely redone to meet the latest standards.
But perhaps the most striking change was the introduction of greenery into this heavy industrial space. Small shrubs dotted the walkways, young maple and oak trees stood sentinel at building entrances, and patches of grass had been seeded on empty plots between structures. He had even asked the Park Maintenance team to acquire some local flowering plants and line the side of the footpaths with it.
William had wanted this renovation to distance the employees from the past—the failures, the shortcuts, the culture of mediocrity that had nearly killed the company. New paints meant new beginnings, and he hoped the symbolism wasn't lost on the workforce.
The employees seemed to have appreciated the change, even if the improvements were subtle. It was mid-November when production had restarted, and employees were called back from their extended layoff. The company was still manufacturing the old models—the aging sedans and coupes that had been Harrow's bread and butter for the past decade—but plans were already in place to phase them out completely within the next two years.
While production was starting up again, Tommy and his team had begun the monumental task of training the managers, line supervisors, shift supervisors, and team leaders in the new quality measures. It was a long task that would take years to become part of the culture, but it was still a start. The company was already seeing improvement in the cars rolling off the line, and this was considering that regular employees had not yet begun quality training—only the supervisory staff had completed the program. Employee training was still a few months away. The plan was to train supervisors who would, in turn, train the employees in a cascading system of knowledge transfer.
Large posters and banners with quality rules, slogans, and inspirational pictures had already been printed and hung throughout the facility. "Quality is Everyone's Job," proclaimed one. "Build It Right the First Time," declared another. Tommy was already working on modifying Zephyr's quality declaration and handbook to suit Harrow's specific needs and culture. In the meantime, he had hired several bright interns from local high schools to help him through this mammoth task of training, documentation and standardization.
If quality was progressing well, the HR side was proving to be a mixed bag of challenges and small victories.
Lucas, along with the University professors and researchers he'd brought in, was having a difficult time working through employee evaluation. It had taken a good half-month just to get the responsibilities sorted out properly. Although before going to his grandfather, William had asked each department head to list down qualifications for each position and their corresponding responsibilities, the department heads themselves were not exactly clear on each position's roles and responsibilities. The submitted files were woefully inadequate and rather out of touch with modern industrial practices.
The team had to refer to other companies' organizational charts and job descriptions to properly set down the qualifications and job responsibilities for each position. Based on that research, the team was able to establish KPIs and KRAs for each position before employees returned. Now, with employees back on the job, their evaluation task had just begun. As per the action plan, this task was going to take a good two to three months, assuming everything went smoothly.
But a significant issue was brewing with the union. They had not been happy when William had essentially snubbed them and rushed off to Detroit to secure his grandfather's support. They were even less pleased when Lucas put his foot down on certain demands that had been standard practice for years. He, along with Liz, had basically had to threaten the Union leadership to get them to come to the negotiating table for meaningful discussions.
It had been almost a month since the discussions started, and things were still being sorted out. The union had received several benefits and privileges previously—not the union members themselves, but the leaders. Now, with new management hell-bent on changing rules that had allowed for significant corruption and inefficiency, they were resisting every proposed change. Lucas had already gotten in touch with the UAW main leadership and was planning to threaten them with full public disclosures, police complaints, media announcements, and other pressure tactics if local leadership didn't cooperate.
On the accounts side, Bill had been forced to hire Price, Waterhouse & Co. to support the comprehensive audit. They had started expecting a mess, but it was turning out to be an even bigger clusterfuck than anticipated. The audit expenses were not cheap, and the deeper they dug, the more problems they uncovered. Fortunately, Bill had some friends in the accounting world who had managed to get him a substantial discount on the fees. Still, William was expecting around fifty thousand dollars just in audit fees—a significant expense for a company already struggling financially.
Leaving Bill to deal with the financial chaos, Liz was having the time of her life. It had not taken her long to have most of the legal team completely enamoured with her beauty. Although if she was to be asked, she would blame her sharp wit and legal acumen. Now the young people in the team were working extra hours, trying to impress her with their dedication and thoroughness. They had already gone through several NDAs, contracts, and agreements, suggesting numerous changes that would better protect the company's interests. Both Sales and Purchase teams were running around trying to get the new contracts signed and implemented according to the updated legal framework.
But between all this legal work, she had managed to accomplish something truly remarkable acquiring all the outstanding shares of Harrow Motors. Goldman Sachs had been incredibly supportive when future acquisitions and investment banking business had been promised to them, along with a hefty bonus for their assistance in the complex transactions.
Ronald had caved in pretty soon. Thanks to the numerous debts he was holding and his lack of liquid cash, plus a small threat of revealing all his questionable activities to the police, he had sold all his shares for just $ 2.75 Million—a fraction of their actual value. Holding 4% of the company his shares value was easily over 7 Million.
Elizabeth turned out to be a bit more difficult to convince. But rather than getting in touch with her directly, the team had convinced her grandson, who was not interested in Harrow's or anything to do with it, to liquidate the shares and use that money for his own business ventures. He was immediately hooked. It did not even take him a week to convince Elizabeth and she sold her shares for just a heft 12 million dollars. (A/N : 7% of the company)
Charles, Richard, and Xavier had turned out to be the hardest nuts to crack.
Charles Whitmore had been particularly angry at William's family line. He had lost his wife early to tuberculosis and had focused all his affection and efforts on his only son. But his son had run away from home due to some bitter family fight and had joined World War II under William's grandfather's command. He had died very soon in a hailstorm of bullets during the Battle of the Bulge. Charles had never forgiven himself, nor William's grandfather, for what he saw as his son's needless death. The matter was made worse when William's grandfather had sold the arms manufacturing business after the war. Charles's family line had held significant shares in that company, and the sale had heavily impacted his wealth and social standing. Although he had received a substantial amount of money from the sale, there was a difference between being a millionaire and being a millionaire who was also a shareholder in one of the world's largest arms businesses. During the sale, William's grandfather had convinced other shareholders and effectively shot down Charles's heavy opposition to the transaction. So simply approaching him to buy shares was out of the question.
The team had to resort to using elaborate deception. They had misrepresented themselves as representatives of a large firm from Chicago who wanted to intervene and buy out Harrow Motors for industrial restructuring. Multiple rounds of discussions and false promises later, the shares were sold for almost double the premium reaching an astonishing $60 Million. William couldn't help but wonder what Charles's expression would be once he realized that he had sold his shares to the very person he despised most. (A/N : Holds 18% of the shares.)
Xavier and Richard had turned out to be more straightforward in their motivations. Both simply wanted money and had no emotional attachment to the company. They immediately sold their shares for a hefty premium once approached. They didn't see any future in Harrow Motors under William and were happy to get what they saw as a burden off their backs. (A/n : Richard 2 - 4% and Xavier - 7%)
Marge had turned out to be the most complicated case. She was not interested in money at all—she had enough from her late husband's insurance business. William had to personally meet her at her estate and spend an entire afternoon convincing her that the shares would be in good hands with him. He had shown her his detailed plans for Harrow's future, his vision for quality improvement, and his commitment to preserving jobs in the community. Seeing that the future of Harrows would be secured she had sold her 9% of the shares to him the next day for a nominal amount of $10 Million, saying she just wanted to see the company survive and thrive.
Overall, within two months, William had managed to completely acquire Harrow Motors. Liz was now busy with the legal team getting all the paperwork finalized and properly documented. Once completed, William was eager to publicly declare his acquisition and begin the next phase of his plan.
But that didn't mean he couldn't begin with restructuring behind the scenes. All the 300-plus outlets that Harrow owned within the USA had been transferred to newly created companies: Harrow Real Estate and Harrow Access. Harrow Real Estate owned all the land on which the stores sat, with their only responsibility being to buy, rent, lease, and develop real estate. On the other hand, Harrow Access was tasked with standardizing all the stores they owned. He wanted the store designs to be uniform—looking premium but not expensive, accessible but not cheap.
They would also train the staff extensively. He did not want traditional salespeople but rather guides—employees trained to be respectful, knowledgeable about how to communicate with customers, how to properly showcase a car, what not to do, and what to do in various situations. He was borrowing ideas from European automotive retail concepts that he'd studied during his time abroad.
But the biggest change was turning these locations into what he privately called "comprehensive sales and service centres." These were basically the 4S Centers popularized in China. It was a one-stop destination that would merge sales, spare parts, service, and customer satisfaction surveys. All the locations were already under renovation to accommodate this new concept, with expanded service bays, parts warehouses, and customer lounges.
While all this corporate restructuring was going on, the team was also busy dealing with the brake recall that had been announced just before the factory shutdown. Brakes were being replaced on a large scale across the country. Fortunately, thanks to the company's incompetence over the years and the poor design decisions, the total number of affected cars was manageable. Only 60,000 cars which was nothing compared to the millions which the Big Three sold. William had used this recall, along with the factory shutdown and the previous management's public apology, to highlight and showcase his stepping in and the changes he was implementing.
The recall had actually turned into a public relations opportunity. Every customer who brought their car in for brake replacement was getting a personal letter from William explaining the new quality standards, a complimentary inspection of their entire vehicle, and a voucher for future service. It was costing money in the short term, but it was rebuilding trust.
Overall, it had been an incredibly busy and transformative two months. William felt like he was finally beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, though he knew the real work was just beginning.
He was broken out of his reverie when he heard a firm knock on his office door.
"Come in," he called out, straightening his tie and turning from the window.
It was Mrs. Patterson who entered, her usual efficient demeanour brightened by what looked like genuine excitement.
"Good morning, Mr. William," she greeted him with a warm smile. "Sorry to disturb you, but the Zephyr team is ready at the test track. They said to tell you that 'today is the day.'"
Hearing those words, his face broke into a huge smile. The months of preparation, the late nights, the technical challenges—it was all leading to this moment.
Asking Sam to come and work with the R&D team had been a breakthrough decision. William had immediately clicked with Arnold, Harrow's Head of R&D. Both men shared a passion for automotive excellence that transcended company loyalties. Very soon, both R&D teams had started working together, with the prototype quickly adopting several innovative parts and modifications that neither team could have developed alone.
The collaboration had produced remarkable results. The Zephyr team had brought cutting-edge engine technology and aerodynamic expertise, while Harrow's team contributed their knowledge of manufacturing processes and structural engineering. Together, they had updated the prototype into what both teams believed was a car that could easily break the 200-mph barrier.
"Well, let's go," William said, grabbing his coat and hat. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."
William quickly got into the car. The car speed through the complex, with his excitement barely contained. The test track was located on the far side of the industrial park, requiring a fifteen-minute drive through the maze of buildings and walkways. As he drove, he noticed more evidence of the transformation—workers moving with purpose, the smell of fresh paint still lingering in the air, and the subtle pride in people's posture that hadn't been there months ago.
The test track itself was an impressive facility that had been built during Harrow's more prosperous years. It stretched around 10 miles (16 KM) in total and was made up of multiple sections designed to test every aspect of a vehicle's performance. The main test track was approximately 7 miles (11.2 KM) long, featuring a comprehensive mix of straights, sweeping curves, tight hairpins, and elevation changes—everything needed to fully test a car's capabilities under various conditions.
A separate 3 mile (4.82 Km) section connected to the main track consisted of specialized testing surfaces: speed bumps, broken road simulators, gravel sections, and even a rain simulation system. But today's Zephyr test was planned for the main track, where pure speed and handling would be put to the ultimate test.
As William approached the track, he could see the team gathered near the pit area. The team was dressed in crisp white overalls, their professional appearance reflecting the seriousness of the day's activities. Sam could easily be spotted among them, his animated gestures making it clear he was in the middle of an enthusiastic discussion with Arnold. The two men had become almost inseparable over the past two month, their shared passion for automotive innovation creating a bond that transcended their different backgrounds.
"William, howdy!" Sam greeted him with characteristic enthusiasm as he approached, followed by Arnold who extended his hand for a firm handshake.
"So, what's the surprise?" William asked, barely able to contain his curiosity. He had been kept deliberately in the dark about the final modifications to ensure this moment would have maximum impact.
"Oh, you're going to love this," Sam grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "The car is almost perfect now. We managed to reduce around 250 kilograms from the original design. We switched from aluminium to fiberglass! Steel frame for strength, aluminium structure for rigidity, with fiberglass panels for the body."
"Fiberglass?" William asked, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. It wasn't that he was unaware of the material—fiberglass had been used in some racing applications and experimental vehicles in past few decades. Later on it would even be used in production cars and race cars. But by 2000 it was slowly replaced with carbon fibre composites, special alloys etc.
"Yes, it's almost 50% lighter than steel, much easier to work with, and significantly cheaper to manufacture," Arnold intervened, his engineer's mind clearly proud of the innovation. "We can mold complex curves that would be impossible with steel stamping, and if we damage a panel, we can repair it rather than replace it."
"The weight reduction alone should give us at least 15 more miles per hour on the top end," Sam added.
William nodded, beginning to understand the implications. "Well, let's see this miracle machine. Where is it?"
Sam just grinned mysteriously, clearly enjoying the moment.
"You bastard," William said, rolling his eyes in mock frustration. "Have you called the rest of the team?"
"Yeah, Lucas, Bill, Su, Liz, Tommy—everyone is on their way," Sam replied. "This fucking plant is just too big. Who the hell decides that he needs a small city just to build cars?"
William couldn't help but agree internally. The Harrow complex was massive even by the standards of major manufacturers. Just moving from one side to another was a significant undertaking, requiring either a long walk or a drive in one of the company vehicles.
Around fifteen minutes later, the rest of the team had gathered at the test track. Lucas arrived first, having jogged from the main office building. Bill came in one of the company cars, looking slightly out of breath from excitement. Su arrived with several other Zephyr engineers. Liz appeared last, having taken time to finish a phone call with the lawyers.
Along with the core team, some Harrow R&D members who had worked on the car had also gathered. Arthur had insisted that everyone who contributed to the project should be present for this historic moment. Security had ensured that no one else was around—this was to be a private test, with no outside observers who might leak information to competitors or the press.
"So who's driving?" William asked with curiosity tinged by concern. Being a test driver was not an easy task, especially when pushing the boundaries of what a car could do.
"It's Ken Morrison. He's an amateur racer from the local circuit," Sam replied. "Arthur recommended him—said he's got ice water in his veins and excellent technical feedback skills."
"Has he driven anything this powerful before?" William pressed.
"He's been testing with us for the past few days," Arthur assured him. "Started with lower speeds and worked his way up. Yesterday he hit 170 without breaking a sweat. But today will be the first 200."
Suddenly, William's ears picked up a sound that made his heart race—the distinctive rumble of a V12 engine. The sound was unlike anything he had heard before: deeper than a V8, more complex than a straight-six, with a musical quality that seemed to resonate in his chest.
He looked toward the horizon and slowly a car emerged from the garage area, rolling to a stop in front of the gathered team. The vehicle was completely covered with camouflage tape and canvas to hide all its bodywork from prying eyes, but the covering couldn't disguise its low, graceful profile. Even hidden, the car exuded an aura of barely contained power. On the back it had huge rear wings which were not present earlier.
"Rear Wings?" he asked in confusion, looking at Sam.
"Last moment addition. The beauty wants to fly. Unfortunately we need it on the ground."
Shaking his head he looked inside. The interior was stripped to bare minimum—there were no luxury appointments, no radio, no unnecessary weight. The team had foregone installing the production interior to test the car in its purest form. Roll bars had been installed for safety, and the driver's seat was a racing bucket with full harness attachments.
The driver's side door opened with a distinctive mechanical whisper—it popped out slightly before slowly rotating a complete 90 degrees upward. Even William, who had seen these doors in the past in Koenigsegg cars was still astounded by the beauty of these doors.
Ken Morrison emerged from the car, a slight man in his early thirties with the calm demeanor of someone completely comfortable with high-speed machinery. He wore a white racing suit and helmet, and his movements were precise and economical. After a brief consultation with Sam and Arnold about the test parameters, he settled back into the driver's seat.
The driver was strapped inside tight with a six-point harness system, each belt carefully adjusted and double-checked by the team. Safety was paramount—they all understood that they were about to push the boundaries of what was possible with current automotive technology.
Ken gave a thumbs-up through the windscreen, and a moment later, the V12 engine snarled to life again. This time, the sound was unleashed with an unrestrained fury that reverberated off the walls of the pit lane and seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet. The exhaust note was a symphony of combustion—twelve cylinders firing in perfect sequence, creating a sound that was both beautiful and terrifying.
The car eased forward onto the test track, its wide tires gripping the asphalt with purpose. The main circuit was a 7-mile loop of sweeping corners and long straights, each section designed to reveal any weakness in a machine's design or construction. As soon as the tires crossed the painted starting line, Ken buried the throttle.
The engine's howl transformed into something almost supernatural—a banshee wail that seemed to tear through the afternoon air. The rear wheels spun for just an instant, painting two precise black streaks on the asphalt before the car accelerated forward with devastating efficiency.
The first corner approached—a fast left-hander that had claimed more than one test car over the years. Ken took it with astonishing precision, the car diving into the turn with barely a hint of understeer. The V12 shrieked at the rev limiter in third gear as the driver flung the machine through a chicane, the exhaust system erupting in machine-gun bursts of sound on the downshifts.
"Jesus Christ," Lucas whispered, his eyes wide with amazement. "Look at how it handles."
The car seemed to dance through the corners, its low centre of gravity and comparatively suspension design allowing it to change direction with an agility that seemed almost supernatural. The fiberglass bodywork flexed slightly under the aerodynamic loads but held its shape perfectly.
On the back straight, Ken shifted smoothly into sixth gear. The camouflaged body seemed to squat over the rear tires as the car rocketed forward, the speedometer needle climbing steadily past 150, then 180, then 200 miles per hour. The world outside became a blur of colour and motion, the carefully designed aerodynamics and rear wings keeping the car stable even at these incredible speeds.
"Two hundred and five!" Arthur shouted over the engine noise, reading from his stopwatch and calculation sheet. "Two hundred and ten! My God, it's still accelerating!"
The car's aerodynamic design was working perfectly. The long, low nose cut through the air like a knife, while the carefully sculpted rear section managed airflow to reduce drag while maintaining stability. The fiberglass construction had allowed the designers to create shapes that would have been impossible with traditional steel stamping techniques.
Into the hairpin at the far end of the track, Ken demonstrated his skill. The brakes—specially designed racing units that glowed orange under the extreme heat—brought the car down from over 200 mph in a matter of seconds. The suspension compressed so hard that the front splitter almost kissed the tarmac, but the car remained perfectly balanced and controllable.
Then came another savage acceleration. The V12 sounded almost alive, howling and snarling as the prototype slashed through the course with increasing confidence. Ken was pushing harder with each lap, learning the car's limits and finding the perfect racing line through each corner.
"Lap time!" Arthur called out as the car flashed past the start/finish line. "Two minutes, eight seconds! That's faster than anything we've ever tested here! No fuck it...it is faster than anything anyone has ever tested."
William felt his heart racing with excitement. This was it. His hard work over 4 years. Efforts of hundreds of engineers over countless hours. This was a supercar. The first supercar. A supercar that would be 4 years early and faster than Miura ever was.
But on the final lap, something changed. The car had completed three perfect laps, each one faster than the last. Ken had found his rhythm, and the machine was responding beautifully to his inputs. As the car barrelled onto the main straight again at full speed, approaching the 220-mph mark, the driver's gloved hand flicked smoothly through the gears.
Then, without warning, a subtle vibration began to shudder through the chassis. It was slight at first—barely noticeable to the observers, but Ken felt it immediately through the steering wheel and seat. His experience told him something was wrong, but at 200-plus mph, there was no time to react.
A split second later, a deafening BANG erupted from the front of the car.
The front-right tire had exploded.
The car lurched violently to the side, the bare rim grinding against the asphalt in a shower of sparks that trailed behind like a comet's tail. Ken fought the steering wheel with all his strength, his racing instincts taking over as he tried to maintain control. But at these speeds, momentum was a merciless enemy.
The car began to slide sideways, the rear end stepping out as the aerodynamics that had been so perfectly balanced suddenly became a liability. The left rear tire, stressed beyond its limits by the sideways forces, burst as well. Now the car was sliding on two blown tires, sparks flying from both sides as the metal rims carved grooves in the asphalt.
"Oh God," Sam whispered, his face pale with horror.
The car spun sideways at over 180 miles per hour, completely out of control. Ken was now just a passenger, his hands still gripping the wheel but unable to influence the car's trajectory. The prototype left the track surface and hit the grass verge with tremendous force.
For an instant that seemed to last forever, the car appeared to hang in the air, its nose pointing skyward as it launched from the slight embankment. Then physics took over, and the beautiful machine began to tumble end over end.
Once.
The first impact with the ground sent pieces of fiberglass flying in all directions. The carefully crafted bodywork that had been their pride and joy was being torn apart by the violent forces.
Twice.
The second impact was even more devastating. The roll cage, designed to protect the driver, was doing its job, but the car was being destroyed around it. The V12 engine, torn from its mounts, was spilling oil and coolant across the grass.
A final, sickening impact tore a panel off the fuel tank. A jet of high-octane racing fuel erupted from beneath the chassis, the volatile liquid immediately igniting from the hot exhaust components and electrical sparks.
The prototype slammed back to earth on its roof with a thunderous crash that seemed to echo across the entire complex. In the next instant, a massive explosion swallowed the wreck in a roiling ball of orange fire and thick black smoke.