Chapter 2: The Secret Behind My Recovery
"Adrian?""
My father's voice came from the doorway.
Richard Blackwood stood there holding a glass of whiskey. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and his tailored navy suit looked as expensive as everything else in the mansion.
He stared at me.
Then at the wheelchair.
Then back at me.
For the first time in my life, I saw genuine fear in my father's eyes.
"You're standing.""
I slipped the photograph into my jacket.
"Apparently, I am.""
His whiskey glass trembled.
"How long?""
"Three months.""
He looked toward Emma.
"Did you know?""
Emma shook her head slowly.
"No. I just found out.""
My father exhaled and stepped into the room.
"Adrian, we need to talk privately.""
"Why?""
"Because there are things you don't understand.""
I almost laughed.
"That's interesting. I've spent seven months listening to everyone explain what I supposedly don't understand.""
He glanced at the relatives watching us.
"Not here.""
"Why? Afraid someone might hear?""
My father set his glass on the nearest table.
"Your mother would have wanted us to handle this as a family.""
The mention of my mother made my jaw tighten.
She had died when I was twenty-three. Since then, my father had become increasingly controlling, especially regarding Blackwood Holdings, our family's real estate and investment empire.
He had appointed his longtime business partner, Victor Hale, as acting chairman while I recovered.
Victor had also been the person sitting beside my hospital bed every day.
I turned toward Emma.
"Would you mind giving us a minute?""
She hesitated.
"Adrian, are you sure?""
"Yes. And please have someone clean that wound.""
She nodded, but before leaving, she squeezed my hand.
My father watched the gesture.
When the door closed, he approached me.
"You've made a serious mistake.""
"By standing up?""
"By hiding your recovery.""
"Why? Would it have been inconvenient for you?""
His expression darkened.
"Don't start accusing me of things you can't prove.""
I walked toward the fireplace.
My legs still felt slightly weak after standing for so long, but I refused to let him see it.
"Then let's discuss something you can explain.""
I took the photograph from my pocket.
He stared at it.
The picture showed Vanessa beside my black Mercedes, but the second person was partially visible in the reflection of the garage window.
A man wearing a distinctive gold watch.
My father's watch.
Richard studied the photograph for several seconds.
"Where did you get this?""
"From the private investigator.""
"Who hired him?""
"I did.""
His lips tightened.
"Adrian, private investigators can manipulate photographs.""
"Not security footage.""
He looked up sharply.
I continued.
"The police recovered the original recording. They also found evidence that someone transferred forty thousand dollars to a mechanic three days before the crash.""
My father said nothing.
"That mechanic disappeared two weeks later.""
"Then you should let the police handle it.""
"I am.""
"Good.""
"But I thought you might want to explain why the payment came from an account connected to Blackwood Holdings.""
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"Those accounts are accessible to dozens of employees," he replied.
"True.""
"You're making dangerous assumptions.""
"Then help me understand.""
He walked to the window and stared into the dark garden.
"Your company was in trouble before the accident. You were making reckless investments. Your mother left you more control than you deserved, and I was trying to protect the family.""
"By arranging my death?""
He spun around.
"Watch your mouth!""
I didn't move.
For years, my father had controlled every conversation by raising his voice.
It no longer worked.
"Did you know Vanessa was involved?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Vanessa came to me shortly before the accident.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did she want?""
"Money.""
"How much?""
"Two million dollars.""
I stared at him.
"And you gave it to her?""
"No.""
"Why?""
"Because I refused to pay her.""
That answer should have comforted me.
It didn't.
"Did she tell you why she needed it?""
My father hesitated.
"She said she was going to leave you.""
I shook my head.
"She didn't need two million dollars to leave me.""
"Adrian, I don't know what else she was involved in.""
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Victor Hale.
My father's expression changed immediately.
He answered.
"Victor?""
A familiar voice came through the speaker.
"Richard, is Adrian with you?""
My father looked at me.
"Yes.""
There was a pause.
Then Victor spoke.
"Good. Tell him congratulations. I hear the miracle has finally happened.""
My blood ran cold.
Victor had been in the hospital almost every day during my recovery.
He had brought me books, arranged specialist appointments, and repeatedly told me that my father was worried about losing me.
He had even cried at my bedside.
And now he sounded almost amused.
"How did you hear?"" I asked.
Victor chuckled.
"News travels quickly in this family.""
"Interesting. I haven't told anyone outside this room.""
Silence.
Then Victor said, "Perhaps your father mentioned it.""
I looked at Richard.
He shook his head.
I leaned toward the phone.
"Victor, where are you?""
"At the office.""
"Come to the mansion.""
"Why?""
"Because I have a few questions.""
Victor laughed.
"Of course, Adrian. Anything for you.""
The call ended.
My father lowered the phone.
"Don't confront him without evidence.""
"That's exactly what I intend to get.""
I walked past him and opened the door.
Emma was waiting in the hallway with a bandage around her knee.
She looked at my legs, then my face.
"Are you all right?""
"Not yet.""
She glanced toward my father.
"What happened?""
Before I could answer, the mansion's front door opened.
Victor Hale entered carrying a leather briefcase.
He was wearing a charcoal suit, a white shirt, and the gold watch I had seen in the photograph.
He smiled when he saw me standing.
"Well, look at that. Our miracle man.""
I held out my hand.
"Victor.""
He shook it.
His palm was cold.
Then he leaned closer and whispered something only I could hear.
"Next time, Adrian, I won't make the mistake of leaving you alive.""
His smile never disappeared.
May you like
And neither did mine.
Because the entire conversation had just been recorded by the small microphone hidden inside my jacket.
