“Ma’am,” she said quietly, steady despite the fear, “Mr. Caldwell needs rest. If you want to scream, do it outside. Please… respect his condition.”
The room fell silent.
Veronica laughed coldly. “Respect? You’re a maid. You clean. You don’t speak.”
Before leaving, she turned back. “The notary comes at nine tomorrow. No signature, no medication. Let’s see how long you last without it.”
She slammed the door.
Hannah approached the bed, shaking. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t apologize,” Ethan said, forgetting to weaken his voice. “Thank you… for protecting them.”
The test had begun.
Later that night, Veronica returned with documents and a colder smile. Behind her stood a man with suitcases—Mark Benson, her lover.
“The company is bleeding,” she said. “Everyone knows you’re finished.”
She leaned closer. “Dr. Reeves says you’ll never walk again.”
A lie. The doctor was Ethan’s oldest friend.
“And does that change how you feel about me?” Ethan asked.
“I married power,” Veronica replied casually. “Not a man in a chair. I won’t push you around at galas.”
She poured water over his bandaged chest instead of handing him the glass.
“You disgust me.”