Chapter 10 - The Secret Behind Sebastian’s Accident
Carlo sat across from Sebastian.
No guards.
No family.
Only Clare and Sofia remained.
“The accident wasn’t an accident,” Carlo said.
Sebastian’s face showed no surprise.
Maybe he had already guessed.
Carlo continued.
“Your car had been tampered with.”
“By Vittorio?”
“I never proved it.”
“Try harder.”
Carlo looked down.
“Your father discovered the sabotage after the crash. He thought Vittorio was trying to kill you because you planned to leave.”
Sofia whispered, “Why would Uncle Vittorio care?”
“Because Sebastian leaving would have split the family.”
Carlo looked at Sebastian.
“Half the younger crews would have followed you into legitimate business.”
“And Vittorio would lose control.”
“Yes.”
Clare asked, “But Sebastian survived.”
Carlo nodded.
“He was injured, but he could move his legs.”
“The photograph,” Clare said.
“Yes.”
Sebastian’s voice was flat.
“Then my father allowed the second surgery.”
Carlo’s face tightened.
“Vittorio gave him a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Keep you alive but dependent—or lose you completely.”
Sofia covered her mouth.
Sebastian stared at Carlo.
“And my father chose the wheelchair.”
“He believed he could undo it later.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Because Dr. Bell told him reversing the procedure might expose everyone involved. And then your father got sick.”
Sebastian’s jaw flexed.
“What was the five million?”
“Vittorio demanded it in exchange for leaving you alive after surgery.”
“And you paid?”
“Your father transferred the money through my account.”
Sebastian looked away.
For twenty years, his father’s love had been one of the few things he never questioned.
Now even that love had been mixed with cowardice.
Clare spoke gently.
“Antonio’s letter says he failed you.”
Sebastian laughed bitterly.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
Carlo stood.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was everyone.”
Sebastian looked toward his useless legs.
“And apparently fear was enough to steal twenty years.”
That afternoon, an independent neurosurgeon arrived.
Dr. Maya Franklin reviewed the scans for nearly two hours.
Finally, she sat with Sebastian and Clare.
“The device can be removed.”
Sebastian’s eyes locked on hers.
“And then?”
“I cannot promise walking.”
“I didn’t ask for a promise.”
“There is still nerve activity. That’s encouraging.”
Clare felt hope rise.
Dr. Franklin continued.
“But two decades of disuse changes muscles, joints, reflex pathways. Recovery would be difficult.”
“How difficult?”
“Months. Possibly years.”
Sebastian answered immediately.
“Do it.”
Clare interrupted.
“You need to understand the risks.”
“I understand twenty years.”
Dr. Franklin nodded slowly.
“We can schedule surgery in forty-eight hours.”
That night Clare found Sebastian alone in the rehabilitation room.
He was staring at a pair of parallel bars.
“You’re already planning.”
“I plan everything.”
“Even things you can’t control?”
“Especially those.”
She stood beside him.
“You’re scared.”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He looked at her.
“What if nothing changes?”
Clare answered carefully.
“Then you’ll know.”
“What if it gets worse?”
“Then we deal with that.”
“What if I stand?”
She smiled slightly.
“Then I’ll probably tell you not to get arrogant.”
For the first time, Sebastian smiled back.
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Clare heard Sebastian’s wheelchair move.
A window shattered somewhere down the corridor.
Security alarms screamed.
When backup power came on, Sebastian was unharmed.
But the surgical scans had disappeared.
And on the wall, written across the glass in black marker, were five words:
May you like
SOME MEN SHOULD NEVER STAND.
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