Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO HAD EVERY REASON TO HATE ME
I expected Tessa to quit.
Instead, she arrived the next morning at six fifty-eight.
Two minutes early.
“You’re still here.”
She set her bag down.
“I have rent.”
“Your sister was nearly killed by my company.”
“Dominic’s decision.”
“My company.”
“Yes.”
“You hate me.”
“Sometimes.”
No hesitation.
I almost respected it too much.
“Why help me?”
Tessa looked at my wheelchair.
“Because somebody being powerful before they became disabled doesn’t mean they deserve to be neglected afterward.”
That answer shut me up.
She began preparing for my shower.
Then added, “Also, watching Arya lie makes me itch.”
I laughed.
There it was again.
That strange thing she could still pull out of me.
Normality.
An hour later, Nathan arrived with Dr. Priya Shah, a spinal cord specialist.
She repeated the sensory testing.
Pressure.
Temperature.
Reflexes.
Small movements I could barely see.
Then she sat across from me.
“You have an incomplete injury.”
I stared at her.
“My original team said—”
“Your initial imaging was severe, and your early exam showed profound loss of function. But spinal cord injury evolves. You now have preserved sensory pathways below the level we expected.”
“Will I walk?”
She didn’t lie.
“I don’t know.”
I appreciated her instantly.
“What do you know?”
“That therapy is absolutely not pointless.”
Tessa leaned against the wall.
I glanced at her.
She didn’t smile triumphantly.
She simply nodded once.
As if to say:
I told you not to quit.
Dr. Shah recommended intensive rehabilitation.
Five days a week.
Standing work.
Electrical stimulation evaluation.
Wheelchair independence.
Strength conditioning.
Every intervention Arya’s document had tried to remove.
“She knew,” I said.
Dr. Shah frowned.
“Who?”
“My fiancée.”
“Vincent,” Nathan warned.
I looked at Tessa.
“You said Arya told staff therapy didn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes.”
“What date?”
She told me.
I turned to Dr. Shah.
“Could she have known about incomplete function then?”
“Only if someone shared certain test results.”
Voss.
I called Sam.
He obtained the hospital access logs before dinner.
Dr. Voss had accessed my neurological records eleven times.
Most recently two days before Arya canceled therapy.
He had seen notes mentioning emerging sensory preservation.
“He knew,” I said.
Sam’s voice came through speakerphone.
“Yes.”
“And she knew.”
“We need evidence.”
“We’ll get it.”
We already had one piece.
Tessa’s recording.
But I wanted more.
At eight that night, Arya entered with wine.
She poured one glass.
Only one.
“Dominic says you still haven’t signed.”
“I’ve been distracted.”
“By therapy?”
She smiled as though the word embarrassed both of us.
“Yes.”
“Vincent…”
She sat beside me.
“We need to accept reality.”
“What reality?”
Her fingertips touched my shoulder.
Six months earlier, I would have closed my eyes at that touch.
Now I felt only calculation.
“You built an empire,” she whispered. “You don’t have to exhaust yourself trying to prove something.”
“What am I proving?”
“That you’re still the man you were.”
There it was.
I looked at her.
“What if I’m not?”
She softened.
“Then let the people who love you carry some of the weight.”
“Like Dominic?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Always.”
I almost admired the performance.
Then I asked, “Would you still marry me if I never walk again?”
She froze.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“Of course.”
“Say it.”
Her smile weakened.
“Vincent.”
“Say you want to marry me if I spend the rest of my life in this chair.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Beautiful tears.
Practiced tears.
“I can’t believe you would question me.”
She stood.
Perfect.
No answer.
When she left, Tessa stepped from the adjoining dressing room.
She had heard everything.
“You set her up.”
“Yes.”
“That was cruel.”
“You feel sorry for her?”
“No.”
Tessa crossed her arms.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew it was cruel.”
Fair enough.
Then she handed me another page Sam had sent.
A hospital billing record.
Dr. Voss had received a two-hundred-thousand-dollar “consulting payment” through Bellhaven Holdings.
May you like
The date was four days after he first accessed my improved neurological notes.
Arya had paid my doctor to help make sure everyone believed recovery was hopeless.
