Chapter 8 - The Ghost’s Whispers
Richard didn't stay sitting up for long.
He knew the house was full of cameras,
and even though we had found the blind spots,
any sudden movement could be our undoing.
He lowered himself back onto the pillows,
but he kept his eyes on me.
“Come closer,
Maya,”
he said.
I sat in the chair beside the bed,
the darkness of the room pressing in on us.
The only light came from the moon reflecting off the lake outside.
“You need to know how it happened,”
he said.
“The accident.”
I leaned in,
forgetting for a moment the danger we were in.
I wanted to know why a billionaire at the height of his power ended up a prisoner in his own home.
“It was raining,”
Richard began,
his voice a low drone.
“A Tuesday night.
I was coming back from a meeting in the city.
Ethan was driving.”
I froze.
“Ethan was the driver?”
“He insisted.
He said he wanted to talk about a new acquisition.
He was agitated,
drinking from a flask he thought I didn't see.”
Richard closed his eyes,
as if the memory were a physical weight.
“We were on the Sheridan Road.
A sharp curve.
Ethan started yelling about how I never gave him enough credit,
how I treated him like a child.
Then,
a car appeared out of nowhere.
Or at least,
that’s what Ethan said.”
“But it didn't?”
I asked.
“There was no other car,
Maya.
Ethan jerked the wheel.
He aimed for the embankment.
He jumped out of the car just before it hit the trees.
He had his seatbelt off.
I didn't.”
The cruelty of it made my stomach turn.
To intentionally crash a car with your own brother inside,
just to take his chair.
“He thought I’d die,”
Richard continued.
“But when I survived,
he had to pivot.
He couldn't have me waking up and telling the police what happened.
So he brought in Dr. Aris.
He convinced my mother that I was brain-damaged.
And then the drugging started.”
“Why didn't you say anything in the beginning?”
“I couldn't.
For the first month,
I really was paralyzed.
The spinal shock was real.
By the time I started to get feeling back,
they had already isolated me.
They fired my old staff.
They brought in people like you—or who they thought were like you.
Women who were desperate,
who wouldn't ask questions.”
He reached out and took my hand.
His skin was warm,
his grip steady.
“Then you walked in.
You didn't look at me with pity.
You looked at me like a man who was suffering.
I knew then that I had a chance.”
I looked at our joined hands.
For twelve years,
I had been the one being looked down upon.
I had been the one being told I was useless,
incapable,
lesser.
And here was one of the most powerful men in the country,
telling me I was his only hope.
“I won't let them take you to Switzerland,”
I said,
the vow hardening in my chest.
“We’re going to expose them.”
“It’s not that simple,”
Richard warned.
“Ethan has the board.
He has the legal proxy.
Unless I can appear before them,
sane and healthy,
he wins.
And he’ll never let me reach that boardroom.”
“Then we won't go to the boardroom,”
I said,
a plan beginning to form in my mind.
“We’ll bring the boardroom to us.”
Before he could respond,
a loud crash sounded from downstairs.
Shouting followed,
shattering the silence of the night.
I recognized that voice.
It was a voice that had haunted my dreams and ruined my life for over a decade.
“Maya!
Get out here!”
Miguel.
My ex-husband was downstairs,
and he sounded drunk,
angry,
and ready for a fight.
Richard looked at me,
his eyes widening.
“Go,”
he whispered.
“Don't let them see you’re with me.
Handle him.”
I stood up,
my heart sinking.
May you like
The past had come knocking,
and it was about to collide with the present in the worst possible way.
