I faked being paralyzed from the crash, remaining quiet in my wheelchair as I watched my future wife mock me before the crowd. “Look at you,” she scoffed, bending near my ear.

The library was dark, smelling of rich mahogany and old paper. Maya positioned my chair near the fireplace and draped a heavier wool blanket over my knees.

"Do you need anything else, Mr. Sterling? A painkiller? Some tea?" she asked, her brow furrowed with genuine concern.

"Just silence, Maya. You may go," I replied, keeping my act intact.

As soon as the heavy oak doors clicked shut, I waited ten seconds. Then, I lifted my right leg. I planted my foot firmly on the plush Persian rug. I stood up, rolling my shoulders, feeling the strength in my spine. I walked over to the hidden wall safe behind a portrait of my grandfather, retrieved a pair of wireless earpieces, and synced them to the security network.

In my ear, the audio from the west wing study crackled to life.

"He’s a vegetable, Richard," Eleanor’s voice hissed. "The doctors said he might never regain motor function below the waist. We need to execute the power of attorney now, before his lawyers set up a blind trust."

"Patience, Eleanor," my uncle replied smoothly. "The board meets on Thursday. I have the medical proxy ready. Once you are his legal guardian and I am acting CEO, we liquidate the overseas assets. Then, you can ship him off to some luxury care facility in Switzerland and live your life."

I clenched my jaw. My own uncle. The woman I was supposed to marry.

Footsteps approached the library. I swiftly moved back to the wheelchair, sitting down and pulling the blanket over my legs just as the door cracked open. It was Julian, my supposed best friend.

"Hey, buddy," Julian said, offering a fake, pitying smile. "Just checking in on the man of the hour. You look terrible."

"Just tired, Julian," I rasped.