Chapter 4

The papers from Sarah' s safe were the core of the conspiracy, but I knew her lawyers could spin them as hypotheticals, as the desperate fantasies of a worried mother. I needed more. I needed external, undeniable proof.

Using a burner phone, I contacted a private investigator. He was a former cop named Mike, a man with a reputation for being discreet and relentless. I didn't tell him the whole story. I just told him I was a paralyzed man who believed my wife was hiding assets and that the car accident that killed my son was suspicious. I fed him the names-Sarah Jenkins, Alex Thompson, Daisy Thompson-and the specific dates. I transferred him a large sum of money from a private account Sarah didn't know about.

Mike was good. Within a week, he started sending me encrypted files. Financial records showing a direct payment from a shell corporation owned by Sarah to the trucking company that employed the driver who hit us. Hospital visitor logs showing Alex Thompson visiting a pediatric cardiac wing at a different hospital on the very day Leo died. Traffic camera footage from a block away from the crash site, showing the truck waiting, stationary, for ten minutes before pulling out directly into my path.

I had them.

Now it was time to confront the weak link. Alex Thompson.

I found out where he worked-a high-end architecture firm downtown. I waited for a day I knew Sarah would be out of the city, then I called his office. I told his secretary my name was Mr. Black and I had a time-sensitive proposal regarding a Jenkins Corp development. The mention of her name got me an appointment for that afternoon.

I arrived at his sleek, modern office. When I rolled my wheelchair in, his face went pale. He clearly recognized me from photos Sarah must have shown him.

"Mr. Miller," he stammered, scrambling to his feet. "What are you doing here? How did you get this meeting?"

I didn't answer his question. I just looked at him, letting the silence hang in the air.

"The procedure was a success," I said, my voice flat and even. I was quoting the email. "D is recovering well."

Panic flared in Alex' s eyes. He darted a look toward the glass door of his office.

"I don' t know what you' re talking about," he said, his voice a high-pitched squeak. "You should leave. I' m going to call security."

"Are you?" I asked calmly. I held up my phone, showing him a picture of Daisy' s birth certificate. "Because I think your partners might be interested to know why the father of Sarah Jenkins' s secret daughter is involved in a conspiracy to murder her stepson."

He lunged. It was a pathetic, desperate move. He wasn't trying to hurt me, he was trying to grab my phone. He grabbed the armrests of my wheelchair, his face contorted in a snarl.

"You have no idea what you' re doing," he hissed, trying to wrestle the phone from my hand.

I was paralyzed, but my upper body was strong from months of physical therapy and maneuvering the chair. I held on tight. He was stronger, though, and he started to force my hand back. He shoved my chair, and it rolled backward, slamming into a bookshelf. Books and awards rained down around me. I was completely at his mercy.

Just then, the door to the office flew open.

It was Sarah. She must have gotten an alert from his panicked secretary.

She took in the scene in an instant: me, disheveled in my wheelchair, Alex standing over me, his face a mask of fury.

She didn't hesitate. She rushed to Alex' s side.

"Alex, what' s going on?" she asked, putting a protective hand on his arm. Then she turned to me, her face hardening into a look of cold disgust.

"Liam, have you lost your mind? Stalking my associates? Attacking them? Grief is one thing, but this is insanity."

She was painting me as the aggressor, the lunatic. Alex, seeing her support, regained his composure. He straightened his tie and looked down at me with contempt. They were a united front, ready to crush me.

I let them have their moment. I let them think they had won. I took a slow breath.

Then, I looked directly at Sarah, into the eyes of the woman I once loved, the woman who destroyed my life.

"I was just asking Alex a question," I said, my voice cutting through their performance.

"How is Daisy doing?"

I paused, letting the name hang in the air like a poison dart.

"Is she enjoying Leo' s heart?"