Chapter 5 - What Arya Was Really Waiting For
Benjamin came at six in the morning.
Tessa had just finished helping me dress when he entered carrying a thin black folder.
No greetings.
No coffee.
He placed the folder on the table.
“We found three transfers.”
I opened it.
Twenty-five thousand.
Thirty thousand.
Fifty thousand.
All from a Mercer-controlled company.
All sent to a logistics consultant named Gabriel Stone.
“Who’s Stone?”
“Former private security.”
“Former?”
“Fired five years ago.”
“For?”
Benjamin hesitated.
“Violence.”
My hands went cold.
“Was he in the city the night I was shot?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the numbers.
“This proves nothing.”
“No.”
“But?”
“He disappeared forty-eight hours after the shooting.”
“Where?”
“No record.”
“Dead?”
“Unknown.”
I closed the folder.
“Does Dominic know him?”
“Possibly.”
“Arya?”
“Possibly.”
“Her uncle?”
“Definitely.”
There it was.
A line.
Not proof.
But a line running from Arya’s family to a violent man paid days before someone put a bullet through my spine.
I wanted to call the police immediately.
Benjamin stopped me.
“If we move now, they’ll deny everything.”
“They may be guilty of attempted murder.”
“Which is exactly why we need evidence.”
I hated him for being right.
At breakfast, Arya appeared wearing workout clothes.
She kissed my cheek.
“How did you sleep?”
“Well.”
A lie.
“Therapy today?”
“Yes.”
Her smile tightened.
“You’re really pushing yourself.”
“I have motivation.”
She poured coffee.
“The wedding planner called.”
“What did she want?”
“Final seating.”
“Three months early?”
“She likes organization.”
“So do I.”
Arya studied me.
“You’ve been strange.”
“How?”
“More… involved.”
“In my life?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I smiled.
“Then say what you mean.”
She looked away.
“I’m happy you’re feeling stronger.”
“No, you’re not.”
Her eyes snapped back.
Silence.
For one reckless second, I wanted to throw the entire truth at her.
The petition.
The money.
Kane.
Mercer.
Gabriel Stone.
But I remembered the pale expression on her face when my leg twitched.
Fear made people careless.
So I softened my voice.
“I’m joking.”
She laughed.
A second too late.
That afternoon, I asked Tessa to wheel me outside.
The garden had been my mother’s favorite part of the estate.
White roses.
Stone paths.
A fountain from Florence.
Before the shooting, I barely noticed it.
I had always been too busy walking through beauty to look at it.
Tessa pushed me beneath an oak tree.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I looked at her.
“Does your sister know you work here?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know who I am?”
“She calls you Wheelchair Al Capone.”
I stared.
Tessa burst out laughing.
“She does not.”
“She absolutely does.”
“Why Al Capone?”
“She searched your name online.”
“That’s offensive.”
“To Al Capone?”
“To me.”
She laughed harder.
Something in me loosened.
Then I asked, “What would you do if someone you loved betrayed you?”
Her smile faded.
“That’s specific.”
“Answer.”
“I’d leave.”
“Just like that?”
“No.”
She looked at the fountain.
“I’d probably cry. Yell. Hate them. Hate myself for not seeing it. Then I’d leave.”
“What if leaving meant losing everything you planned?”
“Then I’d lose the plan.”
I looked at her.
“That simple?”
“No. That necessary.”
The words stayed with me.
That evening, Benjamin arranged a surveillance team.
Not inside the house.
I refused hidden cameras in private rooms.
But public areas, entrances, vehicles, office communications—we monitored what we legally could.
Within forty-eight hours, we got something.
Arya met Dominic at a hotel.
They were photographed entering separately.
Leaving separately.
That didn’t surprise me as much as it should have.
What did surprise me was who joined them.
Dr. Kane.
Three people.
One plan.
The next day, Dominic returned with the missing bids.
All three competitors had submitted prices higher than Mercer.
Too neat.
Benjamin’s forensic accountant reviewed them.
Two companies had fake addresses.
The third was owned by a Mercer employee’s brother.
Fraud.
Now we had enough to stop the property sale.
Still not enough to explain the shooting.
Then Gabriel Stone reappeared.
Not physically.
Financially.
A private investigator found his name attached to a prepaid storage unit in New Jersey.
Police were contacted quietly through an attorney.
A warrant followed.
Inside the unit they found firearms.
Cash.
Old phones.
And a notebook.
Benjamin called me immediately.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“They found your name.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Where?”
“In Stone’s notebook.”
“What does it say?”
“Dates. Your restaurant schedule. Vehicle description.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“And there’s another name.”
“Whose?”
Benjamin paused.
“A.C.”
Arya Corvino would have been A.C. after marriage.
But she was still Arya Collins.
A.C.
My hands began to shake.
“Tessa.”
She was across the room.
She saw my face and immediately came closer.
“What happened?”
I ended the call.
“They found the shooter.”
Her eyes widened.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“What did they find?”
“My schedule.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“And Arya’s initials.”
Tessa slowly sat.
“Oh God.”
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“The woman I was going to marry may have helped arrange the bullet that put me in this chair.”
“Vincent…”
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
I didn’t want comfort.
Not yet.
I wanted rage.
I wanted to stand.
I wanted to walk downstairs and destroy every piece of furniture Arya had chosen.
But my legs remained still.
So I did the only thing left.
I cried.
Quietly.
Angrily.
I turned my face away.
Tessa didn’t pretend not to notice.
She also didn’t touch me without permission.
She simply sat nearby.
After several minutes, I said, “This is humiliating.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You got betrayed.”
“I should have known.”
“Why?”
“I know people.”
“You know business.”
“People are business.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That’s your problem.”
I looked at her.
“You think everything can be read like a contract.”
“Usually.”
“Love isn’t a contract.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently mine was.”
Tessa leaned forward.
“If Arya did this, it wasn’t because you failed to read her perfectly.”
I stared at the floor.
“She looked me in the face after the shooting and cried.”
“People can cry and lie at the same time.”
That sentence destroyed the last defense I had built around my memories.
That night, I asked Arya to sit with me.
She came wearing the gold dress from the morning Tessa told me about the canceled therapy.
For a moment, she looked exactly like the woman I had loved.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Familiar.
I almost hated myself for still feeling something.
“Three months,” I said.
“What?”
“Until the wedding.”
She smiled.
“Ninety-one days.”
“You counted?”
“Of course.”
I looked at her ring.
“Why did you want to marry me?”
She laughed softly.
“That’s a strange question.”
“Answer it.”
“Because I love you.”
“What did you love?”
“Vincent.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Your strength.”
“Anything else?”
“Your ambition. Your loyalty. The way you take care of everyone.”
I nodded.
“What if those things disappeared?”
“They didn’t.”
“My legs did.”
Her expression hardened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
I leaned closer.
“Nothing about this is fair.”
She stood.
“I’m tired.”
“So am I.”
She walked toward the door.
“Arya.”
She turned.
“If I could walk tomorrow, would you be happy?”
Her lips parted.
That pause told me everything.
Then she said, “Of course.”
She left.
An hour later, Benjamin called again.
Police had recovered messages from one of Stone’s old phones.
Most were encrypted.
One wasn’t.
It had been sent twelve days before I was shot.
Only nine words.
Make sure he survives. We need the incapacity, not a funeral.
May you like
The message had come from a number registered to Dominic.
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