I faked paralysis after my accident to test everyone. My fiancée mocked me publicly—until the maid spoke up.

I met James in the library ten minutes later, the wheelchair abandoned by the door.

He stood when I walked in, his face tight with worry. We shook hands, hard and long, the way men do when they’re glad to see each other alive.

“Clara called me first thing,” he said. “Said Vanessa was forging my name on power of attorney papers. I got here as fast as I could.”

He pulled the fake documents out of his briefcase—Clara had slipped him a copy when she’d left my room. The signature was good, almost perfect, but James and I had a secret mark we’d used since we were kids: a tiny dot under the last letter of my name. This one didn’t have it.

“She’s good,” James said. “But not good enough. We can use this. Forgery is a felony.”

“Not yet,” I said. “We need more. She and Liam are planning to drain the company accounts. Marcus is digging into the accident. I think they tried to kill me.”

James went pale. “You think the crash wasn’t an accident?”

“I know it wasn’t,” I said. “It was too perfect. I was run off the road on a quiet stretch of highway, no witnesses, no cameras. The truck driver vanished before the police got there. If they did that once, they’ll do it again.”

A soft knock on the door made us both freeze.

It was Clara. She held a tray of coffee, and her face was white.

“Liam is coming,” she said. “He’s with two men I don’t recognize. They’re heading this way.”

I grabbed the wheelchair, throwing myself into it and yanking a blanket over my legs. James slipped the papers into his briefcase and sat down in a chair across from me, opening a book to look like we’d been talking business.

The door burst open.

Liam stood there, a smirk on his face, flanked by two big men in black suits. They looked like thugs, not businessmen.

“Cousin,” Liam said, sauntering into the room. “I heard you had a visitor. James, how nice. I thought you were out of town.”

James smiled, cold and polite. “Just got back. Wanted to check on Ethan.”

Liam’s eyes darted around the room, landing on Clara, who stood by the door with the coffee tray. He walked over to her, leaning down so his face was inches from hers.

“Did you tell James we were coming, little maid?” he asked, his voice low and threatening. “You seem to know a lot about what goes on in this house.”

Clara didn’t flinch. “I was just bringing coffee, sir. I didn’t see anyone.”

Liam reached out, touching her cheek with one rough finger. She pulled back, her hands tightening around the tray.

“Careful,” Liam said. “Servants who talk too much tend to… disappear.”

I gripped the arms of the wheelchair so hard my knuckles turned white. I wanted to stand up, to break his hand, to throw him out of my house. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Leave her alone, Liam,” I said. My voice was flat, but it held a warning even he couldn’t miss. “She works for me. Not you.”

Liam laughed, but he stepped back from Clara. “Touchy, touchy. Fine. Keep your little pet. But remember, cousin—you’re in no position to make demands. Not anymore.”

He and his thugs left, the door slamming behind them.

Clara set the tray down on the table. Her hands were shaking now, just a little.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

I stood up, walking over to her. I wanted to touch her, to tell her she was safe, but I didn’t dare. Not yet.

“No,” I said. “Thank you. If you hadn’t warned us, he would have caught us. We’d have lost everything.”