She Swapped My Mercedes Engine So I Sued Her Into Debt Chapter 2

The Technical Director, Mr. Jenkins, led me into a small conference room, a thick stack of printed reports in his hand.

"Ms. Hall, the situation with your car is complicated."

"How complicated?"

"First, your engine... it's been swapped out."

I went numb. "Swapped? What does that mean?"

"When this vehicle left the factory, it was equipped with the original imported M264 engine." Mr. Jenkins pointed to a string of numbers on the report. "The engine currently in the car is a salvaged, used domestic unit."

"A salvaged part?"

"Yes. It means it was pulled from a totaled or junkyard vehicle, refurbished, and re-used."

A deafening buzz filled my head.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. The engine has a unique factory serial number. We cross-referenced it with your vehicle's registration records. They do not match."

"But... how is that possible?"

Mr. Jenkins looked at me, his tone calm—clearly, he’d seen this kind of thing before. "This car was borrowed for the last three months, correct?"

"Yes. By my Aunt Joyce."

"Then it almost certainly happened during that period. The current engine's wear level doesn't align with your car’s mileage. Furthermore, replacing an engine is a major repair. We checked our system—there are zero records of any engine-related service for your vehicle at any certified center."

"So it was done outside of a dealership?"

"Most likely."

I took a shaky breath. "How much was my original engine worth?"

"A brand-new, original M264, parts and labor, would cost you around $28,000."

"And the one in there now?"

Mr. Jenkins paused. "This is a salvaged unit, and frankly, it’s a poor-quality one. If I had to put a price on it... maybe $1,500."

$28,000.

$1,500.

The two numbers spun in my mind, a sickening carousel.

"Are there other issues?"

"A few." He turned the page. "The transmission has signs of fluid leakage—looks like the undercarriage took a hard hit. The brake pads are severely worn, which wouldn’t happen with normal driving unless there was a lot of hard braking. And finally, the rear bumper has a noticeable patch job. Looks like a fender-bender that was handled privately, not through insurance."

"Handled privately?"

"Yes. No record. And the bodywork is subpar. Not done by a professional shop."

I leaned back in the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Three months.

8,000 miles.

Engine swapped for a junkyard part.

Leaking transmission.

Worn pads.

Private, shoddy paint repair from an accident.

What had Aunt Joyce said when she borrowed it?

"I will treat it like my own."

"If there’s even a single scratch, I’ll pay for it."

I let out a short, choked sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Can I get a written copy of all these findings?"

"Of course. I’ll have them printed for you."

"And photos."

"No problem."

Mr. Jenkins stood up. At the door, he looked back at me. "Ma'am, if you don't mind a piece of advice."

"Go ahead."

"You won't be able to claim this through insurance because the engine swap isn't in your records. If you decide to pursue this, you'll have to either negotiate with the person who borrowed the car or take legal action."

"I understand."

He left.

I sat in that small room for a long time.

Then, I called Aunt Joyce.

"Aunt Joyce, I need to ask you something."

"What is it, honey?" Her voice was carefree. "I gave the car back. What else could there be?"

"It’s about the engine."

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

"What about the engine?"

"Aunt Joyce, I took the car to the dealership today for a full check. They told me the engine has been swapped out."

"...What?"

"The original imported engine was replaced with a salvaged unit."

The silence this time lasted longer.

Then, Joyce's voice, rising sharply, full of indignation. "That is impossible! I drove it perfectly fine! How could the engine be swapped? Are you sure the dealership isn’t ripping you off? They’ll say anything to get money."

"Aunt Joyce, I have the report. The engine serial numbers don't match."

"Well, it wasn't me who swapped it!"

"Then who was it?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Her voice was a shout now. "I just drove it normally! Don't you dare try to pin this on me!"

"Aunt Joyce, you mentioned the car had a 'small issue' and you had it repaired outside."

"I just got an oil change! Does an oil change swap out an engine?"

"Which shop did you go to? What was the name?"

"I told you, I don't remember! Why are you asking so many questions?"

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice even. "Aunt Joyce, the original engine was worth $28,000. The one in there now is worth $1,500. The difference is $26,500."

The other end of the line went completely silent.

After about ten seconds, she spoke.

"Kendall, what exactly are you implying to your old aunt?"

"I’m implying, Aunt Joyce, that you need to pay that amount back."

"Pay? Pay $26,500?" Her voice became a screech. "Are you insane? I borrowed your car, and you want me to pay you twenty-six thousand dollars?"

"You returned my car with a salvaged engine."

"I did not swap your engine! It had nothing to do with me!"

"Aunt Joyce, the car was in your possession when this happened."

"Well, I don't know what happened! It wasn't me!"

I wasn't going to argue with her on the phone anymore.

"Fine, Aunt Joyce. Let's talk about this face to face."

"Talk? There's nothing to talk about!"

She slammed the phone down.

I looked at the inspection report in my hand, my own trembling.

Not from sadness.

From pure, cold rage.