Chapter 9 - THE ATTACK THAT PUT ME IN THE CHAIR
I had spent six months believing rival criminals arranged the attack that left me paralyzed.
That explanation made sense.
I had enemies.
Plenty of them.
Men who wanted my territory.
Men who wanted revenge.
Men who believed killing me would make them powerful.
But Andrew Mills was telling me the attack had been arranged for an entirely different reason.
"Explain."
Andrew looked uncomfortable.
"Victor needed a patient with resources, influence, and a condition severe enough to attract investor attention."
I stared.
"You're saying he arranged for me to be injured?"
Andrew swallowed.
"I don't have direct proof of who ordered the attack. But Daniel suspected it."
Faith looked sick.
I leaned forward.
"What evidence?"
Andrew opened another document.
A financial transfer.
Dated two weeks before the attack.
A company connected to Victor Blackwood had paid a large sum to a private security contractor.
The contractor's name appeared in my original accident investigation.
My pulse hammered.
"That's the company responsible for protecting the route."
Andrew nodded.
"The one that reported a security failure."
I felt rage rise.
Someone had deliberately compromised my protection.
Someone had allowed armed men to ambush my convoy.
And afterward, Victor had arrived at the hospital pretending to be devastated.
He held my hand.
Promised to help.
Told me I would never walk again.
Then used my body for an experimental project.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since the accident, I didn't feel helpless.
I felt betrayed.
"Get this to the investigators," I told Richard.
He nodded.
"Immediately."
Faith looked toward me.
"Dominic?"
I opened my eyes.
She was watching me carefully.
"Are you okay?"
I almost laughed.
"No."
She nodded.
"Fair answer."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I looked at her.
"Why are you still here?"
She frowned.
"What?"
"I've been horrible to you."
She considered that.
"Yes."
I stared.
She continued.
"You've yelled. Thrown food. Insulted me."
I looked down.
"I know."
"But you're trying to change."
I swallowed.
"Am I?"
She nodded.
"You're listening."
Something in my chest shifted.
For months, I'd believed strength meant never admitting weakness.
Now a broke young woman was teaching me that strength could also mean accepting help.
"Faith."
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
She looked surprised.
"For what?"
"Everything."
Her eyes softened.
"Thank you."
Then she stood.
"Now eat your lunch."
I laughed.
The sound surprised me.
She smiled.
"Some things haven't changed."
Later that afternoon, Richard called.
Investigators had uncovered a second payment connected to the ambush.
It came from an account controlled by someone inside my own organization.
Someone with access to my schedule.
My security routes.
And my medical information.
Richard hesitated before revealing the name.
"Carmine."
May you like
I felt my blood turn cold.
The man who'd stayed beside me through every terrible day after the accident had apparently helped arrange the attack that caused it.
