The morning sun cut through the tall mansion windows, casting cold shadows across the marble floor.
Ethan sat quietly in his wheelchair, gazing at the massive American flag hanging near the grand entryway.
Every muscle in his legs felt stiff from months of forced inactivity.
He had spent six endless months pretending that his lower body was completely lifeless.
Only his young housemaid, Clara, knew the terrible secret behind his silent act.
Clara polished the dark mahogany railing just a few paces away from his chair.
She kept her eyes lowered, but her heart raced with constant anxiety for his safety.
Every evening, Clara helped Ethan practice walking inside the hidden walls of his basement study.
She knew that if anyone found out the truth, Ethan's life would be in immediate danger again.
Footsteps echoed across the gleaming white marble floor from the upper balcony.
Victoria walked down the wide staircase with a gold silk gown trailing behind her like fire.
She held a polished black walking cane topped with a heavy silver lion head.
She had bought the cane as a fashion piece, but she loved using it to show power.
Her sharp heels tapped against the stone with a rhythmic, threatening cadence.
Victoria: Still staring at the wall like a trapped animal, Ethan?
Ethan did not flinch or turn his head toward her sharp voice.
He kept his hands folded tightly over the heavy wool blanket covering his lap.
Ethan: I was thinking about the day my car went off the steep ridge.
Victoria: You think too much about things that cannot be changed.
Victoria stepped off the bottom stair and slowly circled his quiet wheel chair.
She tapped the silver head of her cane against her manicured fingernails.
Victoria: The doctors said you will never take another step on your own feet.
Ethan: Doctors make mistakes when they are given the wrong information.
Victoria laughed softly, a bitter sound that echoed off the high plaster ceiling.
Victoria: They did not make a mistake with your ruined legs, my dear.
Clara gripped her cleaning cloth tighter until her own knuckles turned completely white.
She stepped closer to the wheelchair, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ground.
Clara: Miss Victoria, the lawyer is waiting in the front office for your signature.
Victoria: Mind your own business and clean the floor, little girl.
Victoria lifted her cane and slammed the heavy tip directly against the chair's wheel.
The sharp metallic strike resonated through the quiet hallway like a small explosion.
Ethan winced slightly, closing his eyes to hide the fierce burning deep within them.
Victoria: Look at you, trembling at a simple sound like a frightened dog.
Ethan: I am not afraid of you or your empty threats, Victoria.
Victoria: They are not threats when I hold the entire estate in my hands.
She leaned down until her cold breath brushed lightly against his pale ear.
Victoria: You are nothing but a broken man living in my house now.