PART 2
Richard asked one thing of me:
“Don’t investigate. Don’t spy. Just keep total silence about my physical progress.”
Only his trusted private physical therapist, Marcus, his personal neurologist, and his lead corporate attorney knew the truth of his recovery. Richard was still far from walking independently — some days his nerve signals were strong, other days he had excruciating weakness.
But he’d regained enough feeling to hold onto real hope.
“Why hide it from your own mother and brother?” I asked softly, adjusting his pillows.
Richard stared coldly at the locked door. “Because since my accident, too many people have grown very comfortable making multimillion-dollar decisions in my name.”
Before the crash, Richard had flagged massive accounting irregularities across three major procurement contracts at his firm: new offshore vendors, wildly inflated consulting fees, unvetted third-party intermediaries. The discrepancy topped fifteen million dollars.
Three days before the crash, Richard had personally driven out to inspect an unannounced distribution warehouse. The crash happened on the way back.
He woke up in intensive care. During his months in the hospital, Ethan had stepped in as temporary operational head of Vance Enterprises. Several key physical files Richard remembered keeping in his briefcase had conveniently disappeared.
“I’m not saying outright my brother engineered the crash,” Richard clarified, jaw tight. “I’m saying someone took full advantage of my not being able to get back to the boardroom.”
I understood then why he was playing the long game, watching from his wheelchair for whoever exposed themselves.
Four days later, the snake pit rattled.
Chloe came into my private quarters, shut the door, and set a thick manila envelope on my desk.
“There’s five thousand dollars in cash in there,” she said with a smooth, practiced smile.
I didn’t touch it. “What’s this for?”
“Whenever Richard’s corporate attorney or auditors visit the house, tell me right away,” Chloe said, leaning in the doorway. “If you overhear anything about restructuring the company, you report it straight to Ethan and me.”
I slid the envelope back across the desk. “I’m paid to give your brother-in-law clinical care, Mrs. Vance, not to sell out his privacy.”
Her warm smile turned instantly to venom. “You just got here, Maya. Don’t mistake your domestic job for real leverage.”
“It’s exactly because it’s my job that I know where the boundaries are,” I said coldly.
That evening I told Richard everything. For the first time, I saw genuine, cold fury flash across his face.
A few days later his lead counsel, Mr. Sterling, arrived for a private briefing in Richard’s quarters. They spent hours sifting through encrypted logs, proxy sign-offs, and corporate authorizations executed while Richard was in the ICU.
I stayed out of it, sterilizing equipment in the next room — until Mr. Sterling asked me to help reposition Richard.
Stepping close to the desk to gather some discarded files, a loose printed sheet slipped to the floor.
I knelt to pick it up. My eyes caught the bold header:
“Internal Audit: Authorized Personnel Tied to Disputed Procurement Accounts.”
Scanning the short list of names, my breath caught.
Miguel Torres.
My ex-husband.
“Maya?” Richard asked, noticing me go rigid.
I handed the document to Mr. Sterling, fingers trembling slightly. “Miguel works at Vance Enterprises.”
Richard frowned, dark eyebrows knitting together. “Your ex-husband?”
“He’s Associate Director of Corporate Finance,” I whispered.
Mr. Sterling and Richard traded a grim, calculating look. The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
The very man who’d sneered that I was “cooped up at home” and “didn’t understand his professional world” was now named in an active corporate fraud investigation launched by the CEO whose house I was working in.
That night my phone rang. Miguel.
I let it ring out.
It rang again. Then a text:
“Maya, I don’t know what lies they’re feeding you in that house, but don’t meddle in corporate matters you don’t understand.”
I stared at the glowing screen, stunned. I’d never told Miguel or Ofelia where I’d taken this job. Richard hadn’t spoken to him either.
Then a second text:
“Listen to me for once in your life. Get away from Richard Vance before this whole legal mess drags you down with it.”
I looked at Richard’s closed bedroom door. A terrifying thought hit me.
Miguel wasn’t worried about my safety.
He was scared of what I might uncover.
And someone inside the Vance estate had tipped him off that I was living under their roof.
