movements while trucks blasted past them and time drained away.

The woman watched him more closely than most strangers would have.

She asked his name.

He told her Andrés Herrera.

She thanked him with a seriousness that seemed bigger than a flat tire, got back into her car, and drove away.

Andrés ran to his own vehicle and sped off, never seeing the USB drive slip from the half-open pocket of his briefcase onto the passenger seat of the woman’s sedan.

By the time he reached the courthouse it was 7:42.

He sprinted through security, followed a guard’s directions to Courtroom 2B, shoved open the heavy door, and felt the room drop away beneath him.

Attorney Salgado sat at the defense table with the easy arrogance of a man who had never missed a meal because someone else lied about him.

Beside him was Paula Aguilar, dressed in restrained gray, her face composed and unreadable.

At the bench, in a black robe, sat the woman from the roadside.

Her hair was pinned back exactly as before.

Her expression did not break, but Andrés saw recognition flare for an instant in her eyes.

For one impossible second, the absurdity of the morning was so complete that he wondered if stress had finally split reality in half.

The courtroom clerk called the case.

Before anyone else could speak, the judge folded her hands and addressed the room in a calm, precise voice.

“Mr.

Herrera, before we begin, the court needs to disclose an incidental contact that occurred this morning.” She explained that while traveling to the courthouse she had experienced a flat tire and had been assisted by the plaintiff, whom she did not know at the time.

She stated that no details of the case had been discussed, that she had notified the administrative judge immediately upon arrival, and that an item apparently belonging to the plaintiff had been found in her vehicle and secured, unopened, by the bailiff in a sealed evidence envelope.

Salgado was on his feet before she finished.

He spoke of appearances, impartiality, compromised proceedings.

What he meant was simpler: the story had stopped moving the way he intended.

Judge Elena Márquez listened without interruption.

Then she asked whether he alleged any substantive ex parte communication about the case.

He did not.

He could not.

She noted that incidental roadside assistance did not create bias, especially where the contact had been immediately disclosed and documented.

If the plaintiff wished to seek reassignment, she said, she would entertain it.

Andrés, still trying to breathe normally, heard himself say that he trusted the court to proceed.

Márquez denied the motion to recuse and moved to the matter set for hearing: the defendant’s request to dismiss several of Andrés’s claims and exclude late-produced electronic evidence.

Only then did Andrés realize with sickening certainty that the USB was no longer in his briefcase.

His pulse surged into his throat.

Judge Márquez nodded to the bailiff, who placed a sealed envelope on the clerk’s desk.

On its outside, visible through clear plastic, Andrés saw his own handwriting from the night before: Herrera v.

Altavista – supplemental video.

He nearly buckled with relief.

Salgado resumed his rhythm quickly.

He called Andrés a desperate former employee who had invented a conspiracy to hide his