Beside my bed sat Daniel.
He had pulled a chair up close, his head resting against the mattress in a theatrical display of an exhausted, devoted husband who had spent the night praying for his wife’s survival. On the bedside table sat a vase of fresh white lilies—the very flowers I was deathly allergic to.
I didn’t utter a sound. I watched him silently.
Slowly, Daniel lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. When he realized my eyes were open and fixed on him, a flash of genuine panic flickered across his eyes before he quickly masked it with overwhelming relief.
“Claire! Oh, thank God!” He reached out to grab my hand, but I subtly pulled my arm away, pretending to adjust the blanket. “Darling, you’re awake! The doctors said you had a severe concussion. They were worried about brain swelling.”
“What… what happened?” I rasped, my voice dry and cracked. I forced my eyes to look unfocused, staring at the ceiling as if trying to piece together a broken puzzle. “Daniel? Why am I in a hospital?”
Daniel’s lips twitched upward into a predatory smile. He thought the trauma had wiped my memory, exactly as he had hoped.
“You had a terrible fall, sweetie,” Daniel said softly, patting my leg over the blanket. “At the house, after the award gala. You drank a bit too much, lost your balance near the fireplace, and hit your head on the marble. Vanessa tried to grab you, but you went down so hard.”
“Vanessa…” I repeated, letting the name drag out like a confused whisper. “Where is she?”
“She’s downstairs getting us coffee,” he said soothingly. “She’s been beside herself with guilt, Claire. She feels terrible that she couldn’t save you.”
“My head hurts so much,” I moaned, leaning back into the pillows and closing my eyes. “I can’t… I can’t think straight.”
“I know, my love. I know,” Daniel said, his voice dropping into a purr as he pulled a stack of legal documents from his leather briefcase. “Listen to me, Claire. The doctors say you need absolute rest for the next few weeks. You can’t run the company right now. The board is already panicking, and the stock is dropping because of rumors about your injury.”
He placed a silver pen in my limp hand.
“I had our personal attorney draft a temporary authorization,” he whispered, leaning over me. “It just grants me temporary managerial control over your accounts and the company’s operating funds so I can protect your assets while you recover. Just sign at the bottom, Claire, and I’ll handle everything.”
I looked at the paper. It wasn’t a temporary authorization. It was a full, irrevocable Power of Attorney and a complete transfer of voting rights for Vance Enterprises.
Before I could answer, the door to the hospital room swung open.
Vanessa stepped inside, holding two paper coffee cups. She was wearing a subdued black dress, looking every bit the mourning best friend, but her eyes were sharp, scanning my face for any sign of recognition.
“Claire!” Vanessa gasped, putting the coffee down and rushing to the other side of my bed. “Oh, thank heaven you’re awake! I was so scared! I thought I’d lost my best friend!”
She reached out to hug me. The scent of her perfume—the same perfume that had lingered over my bleeding body twelve hours ago—filled my lungs.
“Vanessa,” I whispered, forcing a faint, hollow smile. “You… you were there?”
“I tried to catch you, Claire,” she wept, wiping a fake tear from her cheek. “You slipped so fast. The award… it shattered right beside your head.”
“The award,” I repeated slowly. “Where is it?”
Daniel scoffed softly, shaking his head. “The police took it into evidence, darling, just standard procedure for an accidental injury scene. Don’t worry about trophies right now. You just need to sign these papers so we can take care of you.”
“Sign it, Claire,” Vanessa urged softly, her fingers tightening on my forearm in a subtle, controlling grip. “Let Daniel carry the burden for a while. You’ve worked so hard.”
I looked at the two of them—the husband who wanted my money, and the best friend who wanted my life. They were standing so close, their shoulders almost touching, practically vibrating with greedy anticipation.
“I can’t sign,” I murmured, letting the pen slide from my numb fingers and roll off the bed.
Daniel’s face darkened instantly. “What do you mean you can’t? Claire, don’t be unreasonable!”
“My hand… I can’t feel my fingers,” I lied, looking down at my right hand, making it tremble violently. “I can’t hold a pen, Daniel. My head… everything is spinning…”
Daniel and Vanessa exchanged a quick, furious glance.
