Chapter 7
The police took my SUV out of storage that afternoon.
I hadn’t seen it since the crash.
I didn’t want to.
The insurance dispute had kept the wreck preserved.
For once, bureaucracy helped.
A forensic mechanic examined the brake system.
Hours passed.
Then a day.
Then another.
I barely slept.
Isabella texted occasionally.
Not dramatic messages.
Did you eat?
Physical therapy today?
Your company is on the news again.
Normal questions.
They kept me anchored.
Brooke called twelve times.
I ignored the first eleven.
On the twelfth, I answered.
“What?”
Her voice was trembling.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Your accident.”
Everything inside me went still.
“Where are you?”
“At my lawyer’s office.”
“Are police there?”
“No.”
“Call Detective Mills.”
“Ethan, please.”
“No private conversations.”
She started crying.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to investigators.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“I didn’t know they would hurt you.”
The world went silent.
I gripped the phone.
“What did you just say?”
She inhaled sharply.
“I didn’t mean—”
“What did you know?”
“Ethan…”
“Did you know someone was planning the crash?”
“No!”
Her answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
“I swear.”
“Then what?”
She sobbed.
“Chad said they wanted to scare you.”
“Scare me how?”
“He didn’t say.”
“When?”
“Before the accident.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks.”
I closed my eyes.
“You knew they were threatening me.”
“I thought it was business pressure.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I was stupid.”
“Yes.”
The word came out before I could stop it.
She went quiet.
I didn’t apologize.
“What was your relationship with Chad before my accident?”
Silence.
“Brooke.”
“We were seeing each other.”
There it was.
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
My stomach turned.
While I was choosing wedding venues.
While we were discussing children.
While she slept beside me.
She had already been with him.
“Did Victor know?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor introduced us.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“For what?”
“He wanted information.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“What information?”
“Your plans for the company.”
This went beyond cheating.
“You were spying on me.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“What did you think you were doing?”
“Talking.”
“To a man who paid you?”
Her breathing stopped.
The $250,000.
“Was that payment for information?”
“Partly.”
I felt physically sick.
“So you sold information about me.”
“I thought it was harmless.”
“You thought confidential corporate plans were harmless?”
“I was angry at you.”
“Why?”
“Because everything was always Vance Capital.”
Her voice suddenly sharpened.
“Your father. Your board. Your meetings. Your legacy. There was never room for me.”
“There was.”
“No.”
She cried harder.
“I wanted to matter.”
“So you betrayed me.”
“Yes.”
That answer stunned me.
No excuse.
No correction.
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“What happened before the crash?”
She spoke slowly.
“Chad said Victor needed you to postpone a restructuring vote.”
I remembered.
I had planned to remove several old vendor contracts.
Some connected to Victor.
“They wanted more time.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Chad told me something would happen that might convince you to slow down.”
“What?”
“He said maybe your car wouldn’t start. Maybe there’d be a security scare.”
My hand tightened.
“Did he mention brakes?”
“No.”
“I need the truth.”
“I swear.”
For once, I believed she might be telling it.
“Why didn’t you tell police?”
“I was scared they’d think I helped.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then you should have told them.”
“I know.”
“Call Detective Mills.”
She whispered,
“Will you be there?”
“No.”
That hurt her.
But I couldn’t carry her through this.
She had made choices.
Now she had to face them.
An hour later, Detective Mills called.
Brooke had given a formal statement.
She also turned over old messages.
One from Chad, sent the night before my accident.
Tomorrow should solve our Ethan problem.
My blood ran cold.
Another from Victor.
No permanent damage. Understood?
Rebecca read that twice.
“That could mean they intended sabotage without serious injury.”
I stared at her.
“Someone tampered with my car.”
“We don’t know yet.”
The forensic mechanic called before sunset.
We knew.
The hydraulic brake line had been intentionally weakened.
Not cut entirely.
Scored.
Damaged enough that pressure would eventually cause failure.
My crash was not an accident.
I sat alone in my office after the call.
For a long time, I couldn’t move.
Somebody had tried to frighten me.
Maybe disable me temporarily.
Maybe worse.
Intent no longer mattered as much as result.
My body had been broken.
Months of rehabilitation.
Pain.
Nightmares.
Fear.
Brooke abandoning me had hurt.
This was different.
This made the ground beneath reality disappear.
I called Isabella.
She answered immediately.
“Hey.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Ethan?”
“My crash wasn’t an accident.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Police confirmed sabotage.”
“Oh my God.”
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“I’m angry.”
“I know.”
“I want—”
I stopped.
“Say it.”
“I want them to feel what I felt.”
There it was.
The ugliest truth.
Not legal justice.
Pain.
Fear.
Helplessness.
Isabella stayed quiet.
Then said,
“That makes sense.”
I opened my eyes.
“You’re not going to tell me anger is bad?”
“No.”
“It is.”
“Anger isn’t bad.”
She paused.
“What you do with it can be.”
I leaned back.
“I hate when you sound reasonable.”
“I know.”
“What should I do?”
“Call your lawyer.”
“I did.”
“Call the police.”
“They know.”
“Then call your doctor.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re shaking.”
I looked down.
She was right.
My hand trembled violently.
“How did you know?”
“Your voice.”
I laughed once.
Then almost cried.
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“You survived.”
I swallowed.
“Barely.”
“But you did.”
For months, survival had felt like something that happened to me.
Not something I achieved.
That night, for the first time, I saw it differently.
They had tried to stop me.
My body had broken.
My life had changed.
But I was still here.
The next morning, Victor Lang and Chad Mercer were arrested.
Charges included fraud, conspiracy, obstruction, and vehicle tampering.
More would follow.
News cameras surrounded the courthouse.
Chad shouted that I had framed him.
Victor said nothing.
Brooke entered separately with her attorney.
She was not arrested that day.
She was cooperating.
As I watched the footage from my office, Isabella arrived carrying two coffees.
“You lied again,” I said.
“What now?”
“You brought coffee.”
“This one is actually coffee.”
I took it.
She sat across from me.
On the television, reporters shouted questions at Chad.
I muted it.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I looked at her.
“But I think I will be.”
She smiled.
Then Rebecca burst into the room.
“We found something else.”
I groaned.
“Of course you did.”
She ignored my sarcasm.
“It concerns your father.”
I stood.
“What?”
She handed me an old file recovered from Victor’s private archive.
My father’s name appeared on the cover.
THOMAS VANCE.
I opened it.
Inside were financial reports dated two weeks before my father’s fatal heart attack.
Victor had been under internal investigation.
By my father.
May you like
And at the bottom of the final page, my father had written:
If anything happens to me, Ethan must see this.
