Malik studied him, trying to see where the catch was. Because there was always a catch. "There's always a catch," he said.
William nodded slowly. "You're right," he said.
That wasn't the answer Malik expected. "So what is it?" Malik asked.
William leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "The truth," he said.
Malik didn't respond; he just waited.
William took a breath, then said something that changed everything: "The Ferrari didn't break down by accident."
The words hung in the air: still, heavy.
Malik blinked. "What?"
William didn't look away. "I knew it would fail," he said. "Not exactly how, not exactly when, but I knew the conditions would cause a problem."
Malik stared at him, trying to process it. "You're saying," he started slowly, "that car breaking down wasn't random?"
William shook his head. "No."
Something shifted inside Malik: not confusion, not yet—something sharper. "Then what was it?" he asked.
William didn't hesitate: "A test."
The word landed harder than anything else. Malik stood up. The chair scraped against the floor, loud in the quiet hallway.
"A test?" he repeated. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried something new, something dangerous. "You used me," he said.
William stayed seated: calm, but not distant. "I didn't know you," he said. "I didn't plan for you specifically."
"That doesn't make it better!"
"I know."
Malik shook his head, stepping back slightly. "You think this is some kind of game?" he said. "People out there struggling, and you just... what? Set things up to see what happens?"
"It's not like that."
"It sounds exactly like that!"
The anger came fast, stronger than anything before. Because this wasn't about being laughed at; this wasn't about the internet; this was about being seen as something less than real—a variable, a possibility, not a person.
"I fixed your car because it needed fixing," Malik said. "Not because I was part of something!"