The first time my fiancée called me useless, the entire room laughed. The second time, I decided to let them keep laughing.

Clara stood frozen, her eyes wide as she looked from my face down to my feet, then back up again. "You... you can walk? But the news, the medical reports, the board announcements..."

"All orchestrated," I said, stepping out of the wheelchair with complete ease. I walked over to the side bar, poured a glass of ice water, and turned back to her. "Three weeks ago, before the crash, my private security chief discovered that my brake lines had been tampered with. The crash was an assassination attempt. When I survived with only minor bruises, I realized that as long as I was healthy, my enemies would keep trying until they succeeded. So, I paid off a trusted doctor to fake the spinal injury spinal scans."

Clara took a deep breath, her mind racing as she processed the information. "Your uncle... and Miss Vanessa..."

"They proved their true colors faster than I ever anticipated," I replied, taking a sip of water. "I needed to know who was loyal and who was waiting for me to fail. Tonight gave me every answer I needed. But now, I need allies I can trust with my life. Clara, you stood by me when you thought I had nothing left to offer. I will never forget that. Will you help me?"

Clara straightened her shoulders, her fear turning into fierce determination. "Tell me what you need me to do, Mr. Vance."

"First, call me Ethan when we are alone," I said. "Second, I need you to be my eyes and ears inside this house and at the corporate functions. Martin and Vanessa think I am helpless. They will speak freely around you because they view you as invisible. Use that."

"I will," she agreed without a second of hesitation. "Miss Vanessa already instructed me to pack up your personal belongings from the master suite tomorrow. She said she's moving into the penthouse downtown."

A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Let her move. The penthouse is owned by a shell corporation under my name. She's moving into a cage she doesn't even know exists."

Over the next two days, I maintained the facade of the broken, paralyzed heir. During the day, I sat in the wheelchair, slumped over, pretending to stare blankly out the mansion's high windows while housekeepers and delivery drivers came and went. But at night, my home turned into a command center.

My security chief, Marcus—a former special forces operative—entered through the service tunnels beneath the estate. Together with my primary corporate attorney, Sarah Vance (my father's loyal cousin who knew the truth), we laid out the groundwork for our counteroffensive.

"Martin has already called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM," Sarah reported, laying out a stack of legal documents across my desk. "He's invoking Clause 14 of the corporate charter, which allows the board to vote out a sitting CEO if they are deemed physically or mentally incapacitated."

"And Daniel?" I asked.

"Daniel has been busy," Marcus chimed in, opening a laptop to show encrypted surveillance footage. "He’s been meeting with competitors in secret, offering to sell off Vance Enterprises' proprietary patents at a fraction of their value once Martin assumes power. In exchange, he gets a ten percent finder's fee deposited into an offshore account in the Caymans."

"And Vanessa?"

Marcus paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. "She spent the night at Daniel's apartment last night. They were seen celebrating at an upscale club downtown, popping five-thousand-dollar champagne bottles on your corporate credit card."

I felt a brief sting in my chest—not of heartbreak, but of pure disgust. I had spent two years offering Vanessa everything: respect, wealth, and love. To see how quickly she discarded me for power and money was pathetic.

"Let them celebrate," I said coldly. "The higher they climb on their lies, the harder they will hit the ground. Sarah, prepare the proxy forms. Marcus, I want full digital taps on Martin's and Daniel's phones. Clara, how are things on the domestic front?"

Clara, who had brought in coffee for the team, stepped forward. "Miss Vanessa called the staff an hour ago. She ordered us to prepare a grand victory dinner at the estate tomorrow evening after the board vote. She said she’s inviting the top shareholders to celebrate 'the new era of Vance Enterprises.'"

"A victory dinner," I repeated, a dangerous smile spreading across my face. "How thoughtful of her to gather all my enemies in one room. We'll let them have their board meeting tomorrow morning. Let Martin think he won. Let him sign the preliminary transfer papers."

"Why let him go that far?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. "We can stop the vote right now with a single medical affidavit."

"Because attempting to steal a company is a civil matter," I explained, leaning over the table. "Executing fraudulent wire transfers, selling stolen corporate secrets, and committing grand perjury are federal crimes. I don't just want them out of my company, Sarah. I want them ruined."