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 wedding was to be the social event of the year. Eleanor demanded nothing less. She wanted the press, the high-society photographers, and the elite of the city to witness her "brave sacrifice" in marrying a disabled man.

The night before the wedding, I sat in my study with my lawyer, Harrison, and the Chief of Police, an old family friend who owed his career to my late father.

"The wire transfers are verified, Arthur," Harrison said, sliding a thick dossier across the desk. "Richard committed federal wire fraud. Julian is implicated as a co-conspirator, and Eleanor’s signature is on the fraudulent medical proxies."

"Are the warrants signed?" I asked the Chief.

"Signed and sealed," the Chief nodded. "We have unmarked cars waiting on standby. Give the signal, and we move in."

After they left, Maya came in to help me back into the wheelchair. She looked beautiful, even in her simple maid's uniform. The late-night plotting had brought us incredibly close. We had spent hours talking about her dreams—she wanted to open a culinary school for underprivileged kids. I had already bought the building under her name; I was just waiting for the right moment to give her the deed.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asked, adjusting my collar.