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 next few weeks were a masterclass in psychological warfare. With Maya as my eyes and ears, we gathered every piece of evidence we needed. Maya placed hidden microphones in Eleanor's bedroom, capturing her late-night rendezvous with Julian. We recorded Uncle Richard illegally siphoning funds from the company's pension accounts to bribe the board members.

Meanwhile, I played my part flawlessly. I let them feed me heavily sedated meals—which Maya secretly swapped out for harmless vitamins. I signed their documents, but only after my lawyer quietly invalidated them by transferring my controlling shares into an untraceable holding company a day prior.

Eleanor grew increasingly arrogant. She started wearing my mother's heirloom jewelry. She fired staff members who looked at her wrong.

"Just one more week," Eleanor whispered to Julian one afternoon in the hallway, completely unaware that Maya was polishing the silver just around the corner. "Once the wedding is finalized, his assets become marital property. We put him in the long-term facility in Geneva, and we take it all."