I pretended the accident had broken my bones, so I sat silently in my wheelchair and watched my fiancée laugh mockingly in front of everyone.

The Sterling Enterprises skyscraper loomed over the city like a fortress of glass and steel. For the first time in two months, I left the estate.

My private driver loaded my wheelchair into the back of the Maybach. Chloe sat beside me, wearing a somber black dress, pretending to wipe a tear as the paparazzi flashed their cameras at the gates.

“Just breathe, Julian,” she whispered for the cameras, holding my hand. “It will be over soon.”

Yes, it will, I thought.

We arrived at the penthouse boardroom. The massive mahogany table was surrounded by the twelve members of the board. Robert sat confidently at the head of the table. Marcus sat to his right, a smug grin on his face.

Vance, my attorney, stood quietly in the corner.

I was wheeled to the opposite end of the table. Chloe stood behind my chair, her hands resting on my shoulders like a warden holding a prisoner.

“Let’s bring this meeting to order,” Robert announced, his voice booming. “We are here to vote on the immediate medical proxy and transfer of CEO duties for Sterling Enterprises, due to the tragic and permanent incapacitation of my nephew, Julian Sterling.”

The room was silent.

“We have the medical records,” Marcus chimed in, sliding a thick folder across the table. “Julian’s condition requires round-the-clock care. He is physically and mentally unable to execute the duties of this office.”

Robert looked around the room. “If there are no objections, I call for the vote.”

“I have an objection,” I said.

My voice wasn't weak. It didn't waver. It echoed through the boardroom like a gunshot.

Robert frowned. “Julian, this is for your own good. You can’t—”

“I said I have an objection,” I repeated, louder this time.

Chloe squeezed my shoulders, her nails digging into my jacket. “Julian, stop embarrassing yourself. You’re a cripple. Let the adults handle this.”