At thirty-two, Ethan Calloway appeared to have it all. Business magazines praised his fortune, his properties stretching from Seville to Marbella, and the corporate empire that continued to grow. Yet seated in his cutting-edge wheelchair, staring at immaculate gardens trimmed to perfection, Ethan felt hollow.
Two years earlier, a car accident had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Specialists across Europe and elite clinics in the United States had delivered the same verdict: irreversible damage. He would never walk again.
That word—irreversible—echoed in his mind like a life sentence. That afternoon, hidden among the hedges to avoid the staff’s eyes, the powerful businessman finally broke. He wept not only from pain, but from mourning the man he used to be.
“Sir, why are you crying?”
The small, curious voice startled him. He quickly wiped his tears and turned his chair. A boy of about six stood there, clutching a toy car. Wide brown eyes studied him without fear—only concern. It was Lucas Martinez, the son of Maria Martinez, one of the housekeepers.
“Go play,” Ethan muttered, retreating behind coldness. “It’s nothing.”