Chapter 8 - The Truth About the Accident
By 3:00 AM, the mansion's driveway was filled with silent, flashing red and blue lights of unmarked police sedans.
Chief Superintendent Miller—a tall, grey-haired veteran officer who had known the Valenti family for two decades—personally escorted Claire and Marcus Whitmore out of the mansion in heavy steel handcuffs.
As the police vehicles drove away through the iron gates, silence returned to the great lakefront estate.
Inside the quiet library, Hannah finished replacing Nicholas’s IV bag with fresh saline. The poison was slowly clearing from his blood stream, though he was visibly exhausted, his face drawn and pale against the leather chair.
Walter entered quietly, carrying a thick black leather folder, setting it gently on the desk before Nicholas.
"The forensic accountants just finished reviewing the remote server logs from Marcus’s office in the city, Boss," Walter reported quietly. "It wasn't just embezzlement."
Nicholas looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. "What else?"
Walter looked briefly at Hannah, then back at Nicholas. "The car accident eight months ago on the interstate... the brake fluid line wasn't worn down by mechanical corrosion. Marcus hired a mechanics shop in South Chicago to cut the secondary pressure valve two hours before you left the terminal."
Nicholas sat in absolute silence for a long moment. The truth settled into the room like a heavy winter fog.
The accident that had robbed him of his legs, killed his driver, and shattered his entire life hadn't been an act of random fate. It had been a calculated assassination attempt by the people who sat at his dinner table every Sunday.
Nicholas closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
Hannah stepped forward quietly, reaching down to check his heart rate monitor. His pulse was steady, but his skin was ice-cold.
"You need rest, Nicholas," Hannah said softly, dropping the formal 'Mr. Valenti' for the very first time. "Your nervous system has taken a massive trauma tonight."
Nicholas opened his eyes, looking up at her. For the first time since she had arrived at the mansion three months ago, the impenetrable armor around his eyes was completely gone.
"Eight months," Nicholas whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I spent eight months believing my body failed me... believing I was broken because of a bad turn on a wet highway."
"You were never broken, Nicholas," Hannah said softly, her dark eyes filled with absolute sincerity. "You were targeted because you were powerful. And now the people who did it are going to prison for the rest of their lives."
Nicholas reached out his large, warm hand and gently covered Hannah's smaller hand where it rested on the leather armrest.
He didn't say thank you. A man like Nicholas Valenti didn't use simple words like that for something so vast.
Instead, he looked at her glued white sneakers, then up into her tired, beautiful face. "Where is your little brother, Hannah?"
Hannah blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. "Ethan? He's at my aunt's apartment in Berwyn tonight."
Nicholas turned to Walter. "Send two drivers to Berwyn tomorrow morning at eight. Bring Ethan and all his belongings here. The east wing suite will be prepared for him."
Hannah gasped slightly, trying to pull her hand back. "Nicholas... no, you don't have to do that. My employment contract—"
"Your employment contract just changed, Nurse Reed," Nicholas interrupted smoothly, a faint, genuine warmth finally breaking through his hard features. "You are no longer just my private nurse. You are the head of medical management for this entire estate. And your brother's heart surgery at Children's Memorial Hospital will be scheduled for next Tuesday morning with the chief of pediatric thoracic surgery."
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Hannah felt hot tears instantly fill her eyes. "Nicholas... that surgeon has a two-year waiting list..."
"The chief of surgery serves on my charitable foundation board," Nicholas said softly, squeezing her hand gently. "Magic might not care about straight lines, Hannah... but I do."
