I faked being paralyzed after my accident, and today I sat silently in my wheelchair while my fiancée called me a useless cripple in front of every single person I thought loved me.

The next five days passed in a blur of surveillance and secrets.

Marcus sent me hourly updates.

Vanessa met Liam twice a day, always at the same small café across town, always sitting in the back booth where they thought no one could see them.

They talked about the board meeting.

About getting me declared incompetent.

About the money they’d siphoned out of the company over the last year—almost twenty million dollars, all hidden in offshore accounts under fake names.

And they talked about the crash.

Marcus got a recording of Liam laughing, saying how easy it had been to cut the brake line, how no one would ever suspect because the road had been wet.

Vanessa had laughed right along with him.

Listening to that recording made my blood run so cold I could barely breathe.

They’d tried to kill me.

Actually kill me.

And if I hadn’t swerved at the last second, hit the guardrail just right?

I’d be six feet under right now, and they’d be sitting in my office, drinking my scotch, counting my money.

Clara was the only thing that kept me from losing it.

She’d slip into my study when no one was around, bringing me food or just sitting with me in silence while I went through the files Marcus sent.

She never asked questions.

She never pushed.

She was just… there.

On Thursday night, I was sitting in my wheelchair by the window, going through bank statements, when she knocked and came in with two mugs of hot chocolate.

“Long day?” she asked, handing me one.

I took it, my fingers brushing hers.

Warm.

Always warm.

“You have no idea,” I said.

She sat down on the small couch across from me, wrapping her hands around her own mug.

“I heard Vanessa on the phone earlier,” she said quietly. “She was talking to someone. Said Friday is ‘moving day.’ That whatever happens, you won’t be a problem by the end of the week.”

I nodded.

“I know,” I said. “She’s planning something. Marcus is watching every move she makes.”

Clara hesitated, like she was debating whether to say something.

“What is it?” I asked.

She bit her lip.

“My mom,” she said. “She’s in the hospital. She needs surgery. A specialist in the city. I’ve been working extra shifts, saving every penny, but it’s not enough. I was going to ask you… if I could take on more hours. Or an advance. Anything. I just… I can’t lose her.”

Her voice cracked at the end.

I stared at her.

This girl who’d risked her job to be kind to me.

Who’d kept my biggest secret without asking for anything in return.

Who’d stood by me when everyone else had walked away.

And she was scared to ask me for help because she thought she didn’t deserve it.

I wheeled myself over to the couch, sitting right beside her.

“Clara,” I said. “Look at me.”

She looked up, her eyes shiny with tears.

“You don’t have to ask for anything,” I said. “I’m calling the best specialist in the state tomorrow. He’ll take your mom’s case. All the medical bills, the hospital stay, the aftercare—everything. I’m taking care of it. No questions asked. No payback. No extra hours. It’s done.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “That’s too much. I—”

“You can and you will,” I said. “You’ve given me more in the last month than everyone else in this house combined. You gave me a reason to keep fighting when I was ready to give up. Let me do this for you. Please.”

She stared at me for a long time.

Then a tear rolled down her cheek.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around my neck, hugging me tight.

“Thank you,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

I froze for half a second, then wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.

She smelled like vanilla and lavender and home.

For the first time since the crash, I felt like I could actually breathe.

We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us saying anything.

When she finally pulled back, her face was pink, her eyes a little puffy.

“I should go,” she said, standing up quickly. “It’s late.”

“Clara,” I said.

She stopped at the door.

“Be careful tomorrow,” I said. “Vanessa is dangerous. Don’t be alone with her. If she says anything to you, if she even looks at you wrong, you call Marcus immediately. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

She closed the door behind her.

I sat there for a long time, the spot where she’d sat still warm beside me.

Tomorrow was Friday.

Vanessa’s deadline.

Whatever she had planned, it was going to happen tomorrow.

And I was ready.

Let her try whatever she wanted.