Chapter 3 - THE VEIL LIFTS
News of Julian Vance's awakening sent shockwaves through the financial world. Stocks that had plummeted on rumors of his impending death skyrocketed within twenty-four hours. But inside the penthouse recovery suite of the hospital, the atmosphere was a pressure cooker of paranoia.
Julian was alive, but he was vulnerable. The crash had shattered his ribs, fractured his left tibia, and left him with a severe concussion. He was bedridden, surrounded by machines, and entirely dependent on the hospital staff.
And he didn't trust a single one of them.
Except for Clara.
"They're trying to push the competency hearing forward," Julian rasped two days later. He was looking at a heavily encrypted tablet, reviewing the board notes Arthur had tried to keep hidden.
Clara stood by his bed, pouring him a glass of ice water. In the corner of the sprawling suite, Lily was sitting on a plush rug, quietly coloring in a brand-new coloring book Julian had ordered a private courier to deliver.
"Mr. Vance, you should be resting," Clara said gently. "Your blood pressure is spiking again."
"If I rest, Clara, my brother will have a judge declare me mentally unfit by Friday," Julian replied, his jaw tight. "He’s paying off two of the board members. I can see the wire transfers disguised as 'consulting fees' through our shell companies."
Clara paused, holding the water pitcher. "Why are you telling me this? I cook your meals, Mr. Vance. I manage the household. I'm not a corporate lawyer."
Julian slowly set the tablet down and looked at her. Really looked at her. For the three years she had worked at his estate, he had barely noticed her beyond a polite nod. He was married to his work, isolated by his wealth, and surrounded by sycophants.
But when he was trapped in the suffocating darkness of his coma, drowning in a silent void where he could hear the doctors giving up on him and his brother plotting his demise, it was the small, trembling voice of her child that had anchored him back to reality.
"I'm telling you this, Clara, because you are the only person in this godforsaken city who doesn't want something from me," Julian said, his voice lowering. "Arthur tampered with my car."
Clara gasped, dropping the pitcher onto the tray with a loud clatter. "What?"
"The police report says hydroplaning. But I remember the drive," Julian said, his eyes darkening with cold fury. "The brakes were dead before I even hit the cliffside. Someone cut the lines. And Arthur is the only one who had access to my private garage the night before."
Lily looked up from her coloring book at the loud noise, her big brown eyes wide. Julian’s hard expression instantly softened. He managed a weak smile for the child.
"I need your help, Clara," Julian whispered, turning back to the mother. "I need eyes and ears in my own house. I need you to be my proxy."
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Clara looked at the billionaire, then at her daughter. She was a single mother. She needed this job. Getting involved in a billionaire's blood feud was insane. But looking at Julian, battered and betrayed by his own blood, she realized he was just as lonely as they were.
"What do you need me to do?" she asked.
