Chapter 4 - Leave Him in the Wheelchair
The mansion changed in minutes.
Doors locked.
Security doubled.
Phones were collected from staff.
Every camera feed from the east wing was reviewed.
The note should have been easy to trace.
It wasn’t.
For nine minutes, the hallway camera outside Owen’s room had gone black.
Not malfunctioned.
Disabled.
Adrian stood beside Sebastian’s wheelchair in the library.
“Only four people have administrator access.”
“Names.”
“You. Me. Carlo. And Mr. Vittorio Lombardi.”
Clare looked up.
“Who’s Vittorio?”
Sebastian’s face revealed nothing.
“My uncle.”
Carlo’s voice came quickly.
“Vittorio hasn’t been here this morning.”
Adrian corrected him.
“He arrived at six thirty.”
Sebastian turned.
“Why?”
“He said you requested him.”
“I didn’t.”
The library doors opened.
An older man entered as if he owned the house.
Vittorio Lombardi was elegant, silver-haired, and perfectly calm.
“Why are the gates locked?”
Sebastian studied him.
“Security issue.”
Vittorio noticed Clare.
Then Owen.
“So this is the therapist.”
Clare felt something in his tone she couldn’t identify.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You know who I am?” she asked.
“I know everyone my nephew allows into his home.”
Sebastian watched him closely.
“Apparently everyone does.”
Vittorio smiled.
“I hear there was excitement last night.”
Clare glanced at Carlo.
Carlo stared at the floor.
Sebastian said, “My leg moved.”
For the first time, Vittorio’s composure cracked.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Clare saw it.
“So?”
“So twenty-seven doctors said that was impossible.”
“Bodies do strange things.”
Clare said, “Not like this.”
Vittorio turned his eyes toward her.
“You’re very confident.”
“I’m careful.”
“Be more careful.”
The words sounded polite.
They didn’t feel polite.
Sebastian leaned back.
“Uncle.”
Vittorio looked at him.
“Are you warning my therapist?”
“I’m reminding her that desperate people sometimes see miracles where there are none.”
Clare reached into her folder.
“The incision in Sebastian’s records doesn’t match his scar.”
Silence.
“The post-operative images are inconsistent. Some may have been replaced.”
Vittorio’s face remained still.
Carlo’s did not.
Sebastian saw both reactions.
Clare continued.
“And there is an object beneath the lower portion of the surgical scar that does not appear anywhere in his records.”
Vittorio walked toward the window.
“You’re accusing the surgeons?”
“I’m not accusing anyone yet.”
“Good.”
Sebastian asked, “Why?”
Vittorio turned.
“Because accusations inside families have consequences.”
That sentence settled over the room.
Owen appeared in the doorway.
“Mom?”
Clare immediately went to him.
Vittorio watched them together.
“What medication does he need?”
Clare froze.
Sebastian’s head snapped toward his uncle.
“How do you know he needs medication?”
Vittorio smiled gently.
“You mentioned Ms. Bennett’s financial situation last week.”
Sebastian’s voice sharpened.
“No, I didn’t.”
The smile disappeared.
Carlo closed his eyes.
There it was.
A mistake.
Tiny.
Fatal.
Vittorio straightened his jacket.
“Then perhaps Carlo told me.”
Sebastian looked at Carlo.
Carlo shook his head.
“I didn’t.”
No one moved.
Vittorio finally said, “This is becoming ridiculous.”
He walked toward the door.
Sebastian spoke without raising his voice.
“Stay.”
Vittorio stopped.
“Sebastian—”
“The gates are locked.”
“You’re holding your own uncle prisoner?”
“I’m protecting my family.”
Vittorio looked at Clare.
Then back at Sebastian.
“From whom?”
Sebastian’s answer was quiet.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Later that afternoon, Clare received a second warning.
Not by phone.
A photograph had been slipped beneath her guest-room door.
It showed Sebastian twenty years earlier.
Young.
Standing.
Smiling beside a black car.
On the back, someone had written:
THAT MAN IS GONE.
LEAVE HIM IN THE WHEELCHAIR.
But beneath the sentence was something even more disturbing.
A date.
May you like
The photograph had been taken two days after the accident that supposedly destroyed Sebastian’s spine.
---
