Chapter 3 - The Hidden Dossier
By mid-morning, the estate had grown quiet. Eleanor had left for her weekly bridge club in downtown Winnetka, and Ethan and Chloe had retreated to the home office to review corporate documents.
I pushed the medication trolley down the second-floor hallway, stopping outside Richard’s door. I tapped twice—our prearranged signal—before turning the brass knob and stepping inside.
Richard was sitting by the window, bathed in the pale winter sunlight. He still wore the loose-fitting cotton trousers and wheelchair harness, but the moment the door clicked shut behind me, his posture shifted. He straightened his spine, resting his forearms on the armrests with quiet, muscular control.
“They’re moving up the board vote,” I said without preamble, setting the trolley down and walking over to stand beside him. “Ethan and Chloe. They’re ratifying the proxy transfer this Friday afternoon.”
Richard didn't look surprised. A dark, cynical smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Predictable. Ethan has always lacked patience. He wants to cash out before the Q4 audit reveals the discrepancies in the R&D division.”
“Discrepancies?” I frowned. “What kind of discrepancies?”
“Embezzlement,” Richard said flatly. “For the past two years, someone within the executive suite—funneling through a shell company called Apex Holdings—has been siphoning funds from our neuro-regeneration research trials. When I discovered the paper trail last spring, I scheduled an emergency audit for April 14th.”
He paused, looking up at me with a heavy, haunted expression.
“That was the exact day my car’s brake lines were severed on the Edens Expressway.”
The breath caught in my throat. “Your crash... wasn't an accident?”
“The police report called it a tragic loss of vehicle control on a wet curve,” Richard said bitterly. “They didn't look closer because my own mother and brother assured them I had been working eighty-hour weeks and was severely fatigued. When I woke up in the ICU with spinal trauma, I couldn't speak for three weeks. During that time, Ethan had my medical power of attorney signed, sealed, and delivered.”
He looked down at his legs, flexing his toes inside his leather shoes with subtle, deliberate force. “The spinal cord wasn't severed, Maya. It was a severe concussion and temporary neurogenic shock. I recovered movement in my lower limbs four months ago.”
“Then why stay in the chair?” I demanded, my voice rising in disbelief. “Why let them treat you like a prisoner in your own home?”
“Because if I stood up too early, the person who tried to kill me on the highway would finish the job before I could secure the evidence,” Richard whispered fiercely. “I needed to know who else in this house was involved. I needed to know if Eleanor knew.”
He reached into the secret compartment beneath the motorized seat cushion and pulled out a heavy, water-resistant manila envelope, sliding it across the tray table toward me.
“What is this?” I asked, my fingers brushing the envelope.
“Bank records, encrypted email logs between Ethan and Apex Holdings, and a signed affidavit from our former head of security who was fired a week after my crash,” Richard said. “If this packet reaches the federal prosecutor’s office, Ethan and Eleanor go away for conspiracy and attempted murder.”
“Why are you trusting me with this?” I asked, staring down at the papers. “I’ve only been here for two days. I’m just a hired nurse.”
Richard looked up, his dark eyes softening slightly, holding an intensity that made my chest tighten. “Because when I watched you yesterday morning, tending to my legs with absolute respect, refusing to let my family’s condescension break your composure... I saw a woman who knows what it means to be discarded by people she trusted.”
The words hit uncomfortably close to home. I thought of Miguel, packing his bags while his mother sneered at me. I thought of the years I wasted trying to be the ‘good wife’ to a man who was already erasing me.
“I’m not going to let them win, Richard,” I said, my voice steadying as I picked up the envelope and tucked it securely inside the lining of my medical bag. “What do you need me to do?”
“Tomorrow night is the annual charity gala at the Winnetka Country Club,” Richard said, his eyes narrowing with tactical precision. “The entire board of Vitalis Health will be there. Ethan plans to announce my permanent retirement and his succession as CEO during the gala’s opening remarks.”
May you like
He reached out, his warm fingers lightly brushing my hand.
“That is when we drop the mask.”
