Chapter 4 - Three O’Clock
The doctor’s name was Elliott Kane.
For twelve years, Dr. Kane had treated my family.
He had cared for my father after a heart attack.
He had attended my mother’s funeral.
When I was shot, he was standing in the emergency department before surgeons took me upstairs.
If Benjamin was right, then the conspiracy around me extended far beyond Arya.
That realization hurt more than I expected.
“How sure are you?” I asked.
Benjamin’s voice came through the phone.
“Ninety percent.”
“Make it one hundred.”
“I’m working on it.”
“What did Kane write?”
“That you’ve shown symptoms of depression, impaired judgment due to medication, emotional instability, and reduced capacity to participate consistently in business decisions.”
I stared at the dark window.
“He never told me that.”
“He didn’t need to if the statement wasn’t intended for your medical file.”
“What’s it intended for?”
“You already know.”
A competency challenge.
Once a doctor suggested I couldn’t reliably manage my affairs, Arya’s petition would look far more credible.
“How much would it take?”
“What?”
“To buy a doctor.”
Benjamin sighed.
“Vincent.”
“Find out.”
“I will.”
After the call, I slept badly.
At breakfast, I watched every staff member differently.
Cook.
Housekeeper.
Security.
Driver.
People I had known for years suddenly looked like unanswered questions.
Tessa noticed.
“You’re glaring at the toast.”
“I don’t trust it.”
“Should I interrogate the butter?”
“Maybe.”
She poured coffee.
“You found something.”
I looked up.
“How do you know?”
“Because yesterday you were suspicious. Today you look like you’re planning a funeral.”
I told her about Kane.
She sat down slowly.
“That doctor has been here twice since I started.”
“I know.”
“He asked me questions.”
My attention sharpened.
“What questions?”
“How often you get confused.”
“I don’t.”
“I said that.”
“What else?”
“Whether you refused medication.”
“Sometimes.”
“Whether you had angry outbursts.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
“Yes.”
I gave her a look.
“You do.”
“What else?”
“If you seemed hopeless.”
I went still.
“What did you say?”
Tessa held my eyes.
“That being angry after losing the use of your legs doesn’t mean you can’t make decisions.”
I stared at her.
“You said that?”
“Yes.”
“To Kane?”
“Yes.”
“How did he react?”
“He stopped asking.”
That morning Benjamin arranged for an independent neurologist and psychiatrist to evaluate me.
Not because I needed reassurance.
Because if someone wanted to claim I lacked capacity, we would build evidence before they moved.
By noon, both doctors had finished.
The psychiatrist closed his notebook.
“Mr. Corvino, you are depressed.”
“Thank you.”
“That is not the same as incompetent.”
“I know.”
“You understand your assets?”
“Yes.”
“Contracts?”
“Yes.”
“Medical decisions?”
“Yes.”
“Consequences?”
“Yes.”
“Then I see no reason you cannot direct your affairs.”
For the first time in days, I breathed fully.
At two forty-five, Lena arrived for therapy.
Tessa positioned the mat.
I glanced at the clock.
Three o’clock.
The time she had insisted on protecting.
The session began.
This time I wasn’t trying to prove anything to Arya.
I was proving something to myself.
Lena worked on seated balance first.
Then transfers.
Then electrical stimulation.
Finally she looked at my right leg.
“Yesterday’s movement may not repeat.”
“I know.”
“Don’t force it.”
“I know.”
“Tighten.”
I stared at my thigh.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
My frustration rose.
Tessa stood beside me.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re trying to murder the floor with your eyes.”
“Helpful.”
“Try again.”
I closed my eyes.
For months, I had thought recovery meant walking.
Standing.
Returning to exactly who I had been.
Maybe that was the wrong goal.
Maybe recovery meant fighting for every inch without knowing where the road ended.
I inhaled.
Focused.
The muscle tightened.
Lena smiled.
“There.”
Again.
A twitch.
Again.
Stronger.
My throat closed.
Tessa’s eyes shone.
“Did you see that?”
“I felt it.”
That was new.
Not movement.
Sensation.
Faint.
Distant.
But real.
“I felt it.”
Lena touched my thigh.
“Where?”
“Pressure.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“Less.”
Her smile widened.
“This is significant.”
I looked at Tessa.
For once, she had no sarcastic answer.
She simply smiled.
That moment lasted perhaps three seconds.
Then someone clapped from the doorway.
Slowly.
We turned.
Dr. Kane stood there.
“Impressive.”
My entire body went cold.
“Doctor.”
“Vincent.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Arya asked me to stop by.”
Of course.
Kane walked closer.
“I heard there was movement.”
“There is.”
“Good.”
His enthusiasm sounded rehearsed.
Lena stepped back.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
“No,” I said.
Kane looked at me.
“She can stay.”
Tessa stayed too.
I wanted witnesses.
Kane checked reflexes.
Sensation.
Blood pressure.
Then sat.
“You look tired.”
“I’m exercising.”
“You’ve been pushing hard.”
“Correct.”
“Arya worries.”
“Everyone worries.”
“She thinks perhaps your judgment has been affected by frustration.”
There it was.
I kept my face still.
“What do you think?”
He sighed like a concerned uncle.
“I think catastrophic injuries change people.”
“Do they make them stupid?”
“Of course not.”
“Incompetent?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good.”
He shifted.
“Vincent, nobody is trying to take control away from you.”
I smiled.
“I never said anyone was.”
For the first time, his expression slipped.
Tiny.
But I saw it.
He knew.
Or he suspected I knew.
Tessa saw it too.
After Kane left, she closed the door.
“He’s lying.”
“Yes.”
“What now?”
“Now we stop waiting.”
That evening, Benjamin arrived with confirmation.
Dr. Kane had received two hundred thousand dollars through a consulting company connected to Mercer Construction.
Arya’s uncle’s company.
My stomach turned.
“Can we prove why?”
“Not yet.”
“Enough to confront him?”
“Not if you want the entire network.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“And Dominic?”
“Transfers from a separate Mercer affiliate.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand over eight months.”
Eight months.
Before I got shot.
That mattered.
I stared at Benjamin.
“This started before the shooting.”
“Yes.”
The room fell silent.
A thought formed that I didn’t want.
“Ben.”
He already knew.
“The police ruled the shooting an attempted robbery.”
“They did.”
“The shooter was never caught.”
“No.”
I looked down at my useless legs.
Then back at him.
“Find out whether Mercer paid anyone else.”
Benjamin’s face hardened.
“I already asked an investigator.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
I nodded.
That night I lay awake until after midnight.
Arya entered quietly.
I pretended to sleep.
She stood beside the bed.
For a long time, she didn’t move.
Then I felt her hand near mine.
Not touching.
Searching.
My eyes remained closed.
She opened the drawer of my bedside table.
Papers shifted.
Then she whispered something so quietly I almost missed it.
“Where is it?”
The document.
She was looking for the petition.
She still wasn’t sure she had recovered every copy.
I opened my eyes.
“Looking for something?”
Arya froze.
Then smiled.
“My earrings.”
“At one in the morning?”
“I thought I left them here.”
I looked at her ears.
Diamonds already sparkled there.
“So you did.”
Her hand rose instinctively.
Her face changed.
Then she laughed.
“Tired.”
“Of course.”
She walked to the door.
“Arya.”
“Yes?”
“Do you still want to marry me?”
Her expression softened immediately.
Too quickly.
“Of course.”
“Even if I never walk?”
A pause.
“Of course.”
She closed the door.
I stared into the darkness.
Ten minutes later, my phone vibrated.
A message from Benjamin.
We found a payment made two weeks before the shooting. You need to see this in person.
May you like
And for the first time, I wondered whether Arya had been planning for my paralysis before the bullet ever entered my body.
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