Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WEARING MY RING
Arya returned at seven thirty carrying three shopping bags and smelling like expensive perfume.
She kissed my cheek without asking how therapy went.
Good.
Tessa’s plan depended on her believing I knew nothing.
“Long day?” I asked.
Arya smiled while placing one bag on the sofa.
“The wedding planner is impossible.”
Three months until a wedding that suddenly felt like a business merger I had failed to read.
She walked to my bed.
“Did Dominic send the paperwork?”
“He did.”
“You should sign tonight.”
“Why the rush?”
Her shoulders tightened almost invisibly.
“The buyer might walk.”
“I thought the waterfront was appreciating.”
“It is.”
“Then let them walk.”
She laughed too quickly.
“Vincent, you hired Dominic to handle these things.”
“I hired him to recommend things.”
Her eyes sharpened.
For half a second, I saw the woman beneath the lipstick.
Then she smiled again.
“You’re tired.”
There it was.
Not disagreement.
Not negotiation.
A diagnosis.
I had become tired whenever I asked the wrong question.
Confused whenever I remembered too much.
Emotional whenever I refused something.
“I’ll review it tomorrow.”
Arya kissed my forehead.
“Of course.”
She turned away.
That was when I noticed she no longer wore my engagement ring on her left hand.
It hung from a chain around her neck.
“When did you start wearing it there?”
She touched it instinctively.
“My fingers were swelling.”
“Both hands?”
She looked at me.
Tessa entered carrying medication.
The moment broke.
Arya watched her place the pills beside my water.
“You can leave after that.”
Tessa didn’t move.
“Mr. Corvino still needs his evening repositioning.”
“I’ll handle it.”
Tessa glanced at me.
I gave the smallest nod.
“Good night, Mr. Corvino.”
“Good night.”
Arya waited until the door closed.
Then she lowered her voice.
“I don’t like that woman.”
“She works harder than half the people in this house.”
“That doesn’t mean she belongs here.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s overly familiar.”
“She washes me.”
Arya flinched.
The reaction was tiny.
Still, I saw it.
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
“Like what?”
She looked away.
There it was again.
My body embarrassed her.
Not because I was ashamed.
Because she was.
The realization hurt more than I expected.
Before the shooting, Arya had climbed onto my lap in crowded restaurants just to irritate me.
Now she avoided watching anyone transfer me from bed to chair.
I had blamed fear.
Trauma.
Adjustment.
Maybe I had been generous.
“Did you talk to Dr. Voss today?” I asked casually.
Her hand stopped on the zipper of her dress bag.
“No.”
Lie.
I smiled.
“Good.”
She studied me.
“Why?”
“I don’t like him.”
“You liked him before.”
“I tolerated him.”
Arya laughed softly.
“You tolerate everyone.”
“Not everyone.”
Her eyes met mine.
Then she left.
At ten forty-five, Tessa slipped back into the room.
“You’re still here?”
“I forgot my charger.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She stared at me.
“You’re annoyingly observant.”
“It used to be useful.”
“It still is.”
That landed harder than she intended.
She pulled her phone from her pocket.
“I recorded something.”
My gaze sharpened.
“When?”
“After I left.”
She pressed PLAY.
Arya’s voice came first.
“He’s asking questions.”
Then Dominic.
“About the paperwork?”
“About everything.”
“You told me he wasn’t improving.”
“He isn’t.”
Tessa’s recorded voice caught the faint sound of a door closing.
Dominic spoke again.
“We can’t keep delaying.”
Arya whispered something too soft to hear.
Then Dominic became clear.
“If Vincent discovers who paid Rinaldi before the shooting, the harbor deal is the least of our problems.”
Every muscle in my upper body tightened.
Rinaldi.
Anthony Rinaldi had been the driver of the car that blocked my convoy six months earlier.
Police called him an accomplice.
Three weeks after the shooting, he disappeared.
I had assumed he ran.
Now Dominic was talking about someone paying him.
Before the shooting.
Tessa stopped the recording.
“You know that name?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
I looked toward the dark windows.
“The man who helped put me in this chair.”
Tessa’s face went pale.
I replayed Dominic’s sentence.
Who paid Rinaldi.
Not who hired him.
Who paid him.
May you like
That meant Dominic knew the shooting hadn’t been random.
And if Arya knew too, then the conspiracy around my wheelchair had started long before anyone canceled therapy.
