Chapter 3 - THE LEG THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO MOVE
“Do it again.”
Dr. Shaw sounded calmer than the rest of us.
Gabriel looked as though he wanted to either laugh or throw something.
Possibly both.
“I’m trying.”
He stared at his left leg.
Nothing happened.
His jaw tightened.
“Again,” Dr. Shaw said.
“Rebecca—”
“Again.”
I stood near the window with Landon.
Neither of us spoke.
Gabriel’s thigh tensed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
So did Dr. Shaw.
“There.”
Gabriel’s head snapped up.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“I felt it.”
His voice changed on the word felt.
Not loud.
Almost afraid.
Dr. Shaw crouched.
“Where?”
“Hip.”
“Pressure? Pain? Movement?”
“Movement.”
She tested sensation.
Touch.
Temperature.
Pressure.
Some areas remained absent.
Others produced inconsistent responses.
Then she sat back.
“This is not what your last neurological report described.”
Gabriel stared.
“What did it describe?”
“Complete functional loss below T12.”
“You signed it.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“I wrote the rehabilitation evaluation.”
She stood.
“The final neurological classification was submitted by Dr. Warren Vale.”
I knew that name.
Gabriel’s neurosurgeon.
Older.
Expensive.
The kind of doctor whose waiting room looked like a hotel lobby.
Gabriel looked at Landon.
“Get Vale.”
Landon hesitated.
“He’s in Boston.”
“Then Boston can release him.”
Dr. Shaw raised a hand.
“Before you start kidnapping physicians, there’s another issue.”
Gabriel stared.
“I don’t kidnap physicians.”
I looked at Landon.
He murmured, “Depends on the decade.”
Gabriel heard.
“I hate both of you.”
Dr. Shaw almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“I want your original spinal imaging re-read by an independent team.”
“It was.”
“It was read by Vale’s group.”
“That is independent.”
“Not if somebody is tampering with your treatment.”
The room went quiet.
Gabriel looked at his leg.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying incomplete spinal cord injuries can change.”
“I know that.”
“But medication-induced sedation, low blood pressure, inconsistent therapy and prolonged immobility can make recovery look worse than it is.”
“Can pills cause paralysis?”
“No.”
Important distinction.
She continued.
“They can, however, suppress function, interfere with therapy, increase falls, worsen fatigue and create the appearance of neurological decline.”
Gabriel’s face became colder.
“So someone couldn’t create the injury.”
“No.”
“But they could make sure I didn’t climb out of it.”
Dr. Shaw held his gaze.
“Yes.”
The sentence sat in the room like smoke.
I thought about seventeen caregivers.
How many had been witnesses?
How many had been removed because they noticed something?
Landon left to retrieve old personnel files.
Gabriel looked at me.
“Why are you still here?”
“You yelled my name.”
“I didn’t mean permanently.”
“You keep trying to fire me without actually firing me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That can be corrected.”
“After payday.”
He almost smiled.
Then his expression shifted.
“You said you had eighty-two dollars when Landon hired you.”
“Eighty-two forty.”
“Why?”
“Because life is expensive.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“And this isn’t therapy.”
He looked away.
Fair enough.
I started toward the door.
“Mara.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
That one surprised me enough to turn around.
“For what?”
He looked toward the pill table.
“Taking the photograph.”
I shrugged.
“I photograph weird things now. Financial trauma.”
“What does that mean?”
I should have left.
Instead I said, “My ex forged my signature on a business loan.”
Gabriel’s eyes sharpened.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and ten thousand.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Yes. He was ambitious.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“Where?”
“Florida.”
“Name?”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what you do.”
His face went blank.
“What do I do?”
“People who annoy you become historical references.”
Landon appeared in the doorway.
“That is unfair.”
I stared.
“Is it?”
He thought.
“Partly.”
Gabriel looked almost offended.
“I was going to offer legal help.”
“See? Normal sentence after ‘name?’”
He exhaled.
Then looked down at his legs.
Whatever irritation remained disappeared.
“I stood once.”
I became still.
“What?”
He looked toward the hall where Landon had gone.
“About seven weeks ago.”
“The caregiver Landon mentioned.”
His eyes narrowed.
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel looked ashamed.
That surprised me more than the confession.
“I woke around three in the morning. The chair charger had failed.”
“What did you do?”
“I needed the bathroom.”
I waited.
He stared at his hands.
“I transferred to the bed. Then I felt something in my right leg.”
“Movement?”
“Pressure.”
He swallowed.
“I grabbed the rail and pulled up.”
My heart beat harder.
“For maybe three seconds, I was standing.”
“Then?”
“I collapsed.”
“Was someone there?”
“Caroline.”
The caregiver accused of lying.
“She saw you.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She called Landon and Dr. Vale.”
“Then?”
“Vale came the next morning.”
Gabriel’s mouth tightened.
“He told me it had been a spasm. That what I interpreted as standing was my arms holding all my weight.”
“Did Caroline agree?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“That my right leg was bearing weight.”
“And then she accused you of grabbing her?”
His face became dark.
“That was the report.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why would she lie?”
“I assumed she wanted money.”
“What happened to her?”
“Fired.”
“By you?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Vale?”
“Julian recommended immediate termination.”
There it was.
Julian again.
I sat on the window bench.
“Did Caroline get severance?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find her.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“You’re giving orders now?”
“I’m housekeeping-adjacent management.”
His mouth twitched.
Landon returned carrying a tablet.
“I already did.”
We both turned.
He sat.
“Caroline Pierce. Registered nurse. Twenty-six. Moved to Philadelphia.”
“Why?” Gabriel asked.
“She signed a nondisclosure and left New York.”
“Who negotiated?”
Landon’s face tightened.
“Julian’s attorney.”
Gabriel went silent.
“Call her.”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“She hung up when I said Cross.”
I looked at Gabriel.
“Can’t imagine why.”
He ignored me.
“Offer protection.”
“That sounds threatening when you say it.”
“I’m noticing.”
Landon called through an intermediary instead.
By midnight, Caroline agreed to a video call on one condition.
Gabriel could not be on it.
He hated that.
I went with Landon to the office.
Caroline appeared on-screen.
Blonde hair tied back.
Tired eyes.
She looked at me first.
“Who are you?”
“Mara. Maid.”
She almost smiled.
“Lasting long?”
“Against medical advice.”
Landon explained the medication switch.
Caroline went pale.
“What pills?”
He described them.
She covered her mouth.
“I knew something was wrong.”
“What?”
“Gabriel was different after evening meds.”
“How?”
“Sleepy. Irritable. Sometimes confused.”
“Did you report it?”
“To Vale.”
“What did he say?”
“That neurological trauma affects personality.”
“And the standing incident?”
Her eyes filled.
“He stood.”
Landon became still.
“For how long?”
“Three or four seconds.”
“Was he bearing weight?”
“Yes.”
“Which leg?”
“Right.”
“Why did the report say he grabbed you?”
Caroline’s face hardened.
“Because somebody needed me discredited.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell us.”
She looked away.
“After I reported the standing, Julian Cross came to the house.”
My stomach tightened.
“He told me Gabriel was emotionally unstable.”
Caroline continued.
“He said if I encouraged unrealistic hope, Gabriel might injure himself.”
“What did you say?”
“That hope wasn’t relevant. The movement was real.”
“And?”
“Next day security told me I’d been accused of inappropriate contact.”
Landon whispered, “Jesus.”
“I refused to sign the report.”
“So why leave?”
Her face changed.
“My brother got arrested.”
“What?”
“For possession.”
Landon frowned.
“Was he guilty?”
“No.”
“He had never used drugs.”
Caroline’s voice shook.
“The charges disappeared after I signed the NDA and left.”
Nobody spoke.
That was not human resources.
That was coercion.
Landon asked:
“Who arranged your severance?”
“Julian.”
Then Caroline said something worse.
“There was another caregiver.”
“Who?”
“Number fourteen, I think. Beth Morgan.”
Landon searched.
“She resigned.”
“No.”
Caroline shook her head.
“She called me after.”
“What did she say?”
“She thought someone had tampered with Gabriel’s chair.”
Gabriel’s chair.
My skin went cold.
“How?”
“The emergency stop had been disabled.”
Landon stood.
“When?”
“About a month before I left.”
“Did she report it?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
Caroline looked directly into the camera.
“Julian Cross.”
The call ended twenty minutes later.
Landon and I went upstairs.
Gabriel was awake.
Waiting.
He saw our faces.
“Tell me.”
Landon told him everything.
No interruption.
No anger.
When he finished, Gabriel looked at his wheelchair.
Then at the pills.
Then at the closed bedroom door.
For the first time since I met him, he looked genuinely vulnerable.
Not because his legs didn’t work.
Because his house no longer felt like his.
“Who else knew about Caroline?”
he asked.
“Vale,” Landon said.
“Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
“Your brother.”
I looked at him.
Gabriel’s face changed.
“You have a brother?”
Landon closed his eyes.
Apparently that had not been part of my employee briefing.
“Half brother,” Gabriel said.
“Name?”
“Ethan Cross.”
“Where is he?”
Silence.
Then Gabriel answered.
“On the board.”
Of course he was.
Rich families were exhausting.
“Does he gain anything if you’re declared incapacitated?”
Gabriel did not answer immediately.
May you like
Landon did.
“Everything.”
