Chapter 4
The world seemed to narrow to the rain hitting the stone driveway.
Nico did not move.
For a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard Paula.
Then his hands tightened on the wheels of his chair until his knuckles whitened.
Detective Bell spoke first.
“Ms. Reyes, I need you to say that again.”
Paula wrapped her arms around herself.
“They caused the crash.”
Nico’s voice was quiet.
“Who?”
Paula looked at the house.
“Camille and Arthur. And someone inside your own organization.”
Every guard at the gate went rigid.
Marcus’s face changed.
Nico noticed.
So did I.
“Inside?” Nico asked.
Paula nodded.
“I heard them arguing in the pool house in July. Camille said the crash was supposed to scare you, not paralyze you. Arthur said it made the transfer easier.”
Nico’s face lost all color.
Eight months of pain.
Eight months of learning to move in a body that no longer obeyed him.
Eight months of people whispering that he was broken.
And now a trembling former nurse was telling him it had not been fate.
It had been design.
Detective Bell guided Paula toward a patrol car.
“We need to get you to the station.”
Paula panicked.
“No. They have my sister’s address.”
“Who does?”
“Dante.”
Every face turned.
Dante Russo stood near the front steps.
For half a second, he looked confused.
Then he ran.
Marcus moved first.
Two guards followed.
Dante slipped on the wet stone, slammed into the side of a parked car, and reached beneath his jacket.
“Gun!” someone shouted.
Detective Bell drew her weapon.
“Drop it!”
Dante froze.
His hand came out empty.
A phone hit the ground instead.
Marcus tackled him hard enough to knock the breath from him.
The guests still lingering inside screamed.
Nico watched the man who had sworn loyalty to him get pinned in the rain.
His expression was worse than anger.
It was grief turned poisonous.
“You stood beside me for fifteen years,” Nico said.
Dante spat rainwater from his mouth.
“You weren’t supposed to survive long enough to ask questions.”
The words hit everyone.
Even Arthur Ashcroft looked shaken.
Maybe because Dante had said the quiet part too soon.
Maybe because the plan was no longer containable.
Nico rolled forward.
I stepped with him.
His breathing was uneven.
“Nico,” I warned softly.
He ignored me.
Dante laughed from the ground.
“You think she loved you? Camille hated touching that chair. Arthur said marrying you was the price of getting the company.”
Nico’s face did not change.
But I saw his eyes.
Pain had gone somewhere deep.
Somewhere dangerous.
Detective Bell ordered Dante cuffed.
He kept laughing until Marcus leaned down and whispered something in his ear.
Then Dante stopped.
Police secured the estate.
Guests were questioned.
Arthur’s phone was taken.
Vivian Ashcroft sat in the ballroom, shaking so badly Edna brought her a blanket.
Camille refused to speak without her attorney.
Nico refused transport to the hospital until I threatened to document noncompliance in his chart.
He glared.
I glared back.
He went.
At the hospital, blood tests were rushed.
The results came back at dawn.
Sedatives.
Repeated exposure.
Low doses.
Enough to cloud judgment.
Enough to create confusion.
Enough to make a man doubt his own mind.
Nico stared at the report.
His hands shook.
He curled them into fists.
“I signed things.”
I stood beside his bed.
“You were drugged.”
“I signed things.”
“Under chemical influence.”
“I let them touch my company.”
“You were targeted.”
He looked at me sharply.
“I am Nico Alfieri.”
“No,” I said. “You are a patient who was poisoned by people close to him.”
His eyes burned.
“That makes me weak?”
“That makes them criminals.”
He looked away.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “I remember the crash.”
I froze.
“You do?”
“Pieces.”
He closed his eyes.
“Rain. A black SUV. Dante on the phone. Camille calling me, asking where I was, keeping me talking. Then headlights.”
My throat tightened.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I thought it was trauma.”
“Because they told you it was.”
His jaw worked.
“Yes.”
Detective Bell entered with Rinaldi.
Her face was grim.
“We searched Dante’s phone.”
Nico looked up.
“And?”
“Messages with Arthur Ashcroft. Payments routed through shell companies. Photos of your car before the crash. Your route. Your schedule.”
Rinaldi placed another file on the bed.
“And the forged transfer documents were prepared before the accident.”
Nico went completely still.
“Before?”
Rinaldi nodded.
“The crash was not a response to your condition. Your condition was part of the plan.”
I watched Nico absorb that.
A man who had built his life around control had been trapped inside a story written by people he trusted.
Then my phone rang.
Wes.
I answered fast.
“Hey, buddy.”
But it wasn’t Wes.
A man’s voice spoke softly.
“Miss Marsh, your little brother has a surgery date soon, doesn’t he?”
My blood turned to ice.
Nico’s eyes snapped to mine.
May you like
The voice continued.
“Walk away from Alfieri, and the boy keeps breathing.”
