Chapter 4 - ARYA TELLS THE TRUTH
Arya denied it.
At first.
Then Ortiz showed her the photograph.
Grainy security image.
Black coat.
Sunglasses.
But unmistakably her.
She had bought the burner phone three days before the shooting.
Arya's attorney requested a break.
She asked to speak to me.
Ortiz advised against it.
I agreed anyway.
The meeting happened in a secure conference room.
Arya looked smaller without makeup.
Not weak.
Just human.
“I didn't order the shooting.”
“Then explain.”
“Dominic asked me to buy the phone.”
“Why?”
“He said some business shouldn't connect to his number.”
“And you asked no questions?”
“I was stupid.”
“Yes.”
She flinched.
“What did you think it was?”
“Negotiations.”
“With armed men?”
“I didn't know.”
“Then why did you destroy the phone?”
Her eyes widened.
Ortiz had not told me that.
Evelyn had.
Arya swallowed.
“Dominic called after you were shot.”
“And?”
“He told me to throw it away.”
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said if police connected it to me, they'd accuse me.”
“They were correct.”
“I panicked.”
I stared.
“Did you know I was going to be shot?”
“No.”
“Did you know Dominic wanted control?”
“Yes.”
That answer cut differently.
“How long?”
“Before the shooting.”
“How long?”
“Four months.”
My hands clenched.
“So while you were planning our wedding—”
“I was scared.”
“Stop saying that like fear is a permission slip.”
She cried.
“I loved you.”
“You loved standing next to me.”
“No.”
“You loved restaurants opening kitchens after closing. Designers sending dresses for free. Men stepping aside when we walked into rooms.”
Her face hardened.
“You think I stayed for seven months after you were shot because of restaurants?”
I stopped.
She had stayed.
At least physically.
“I changed your dressings.”
“For six weeks.”
“I slept in hospital chairs.”
“For twelve nights.”
“I held your hand when the doctor said you might never walk!”
“Yes.”
Her voice broke.
“And I couldn't do it anymore.”
There.
Truth.
Again.
“I couldn't keep hoping.”
I watched her.
“So you joined Dominic.”
“He said the businesses were slipping.”
“And you wanted security.”
“I wanted something that wasn't falling apart.”
That hurt.
Because she meant me too.
“Did you know about Blackwater?”
“Yes.”
“Did you profit?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Six million if the redevelopment went through.”
I laughed softly.
She looked ashamed.
“Did Dominic shoot me?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I don't!”
She leaned forward.
“I swear to God, Vincent. I knew about the property transfer. I knew about the petition. I knew Dominic was trying to push you out.”
Her eyes met mine.
“But I did not know anyone was going to shoot you.”
I believed her.
Not because I wanted to.
Because terror looked different from guilt.
Before she left, Arya stopped.
“Tessa isn't what you think.”
I almost laughed.
“Here we go.”
“She looked through your study.”
“Because she found your document.”
“She could have called the agency.”
“She called my attorney.”
“She stays late.”
“Her shift ends when care is done.”
Arya's jealousy surprised me.
Then she said:
“Ask her why she applied to your house specifically.”
That caught me.
“What?”
“She requested your case.”
I said nothing.
Arya smiled sadly.
“See?”
The next morning, I asked Tessa.
She didn't lie.
“Yes.”
“You requested my case.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked tired.
“Because of Clara.”
“What about her?”
“Three years ago, the Corvino Foundation paid for part of her transplant evaluation.”
I stared.
I barely knew the foundation's individual cases.
My mother started it.
I funded it.
Other people ran it.
“You knew who I was.”
“Of course.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You would have thought I owed you.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That answer should have offended me.
Instead, I liked it.
“She didn't receive a transplant,” Tessa continued.
“Why?”
“Complications.”
“Then why request me?”
“Because your agency listing paid more than other cases.”
I stared.
“You're unbelievable.”
She shrugged.
“You asked.”
“Did you ever plan to thank me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn't personally approve Clara's case.”
I laughed.
“Finally, somebody understands charitable infrastructure.”
She smiled.
Then added:
“But when I saw your name, I thought maybe the universe had a sense of humor.”
“How?”
“The man whose money helped my sister stay alive needed someone to tell him to stop acting dead.”
I stared.
Tessa realized how harsh it sounded.
“Too much?”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Probably exactly enough.”
That afternoon, something happened during therapy.
Mateo lifted my right foot.
“Push down.”
“I am.”
“Again.”
I focused.
Nothing.
Then—
Movement.
Barely.
My ankle shifted.
Half an inch.
Mateo froze.
Tessa froze.
I stared.
“Did you do that?”
“I don't know.”
“Again.”
I tried.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Rage rose.
Then Mateo put a hand on my shoulder.
“One movement is still movement.”
I looked at my foot.
For months I had demanded certainty.
Today half an inch felt enormous.
When Tessa helped me back into bed, I said:
“Don't tell Arya.”
She looked at me.
“Why would I?”
“I don't know.”
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“You really need to stop assuming every woman in your life reports to another one.”
I laughed.
Then my phone rang.
Ortiz.
“We found the shooter.”
My chest tightened.
“He's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Federal custody on another case.”
“Name?”
“Leon Mercer.”
I knew it.
Low-level contractor.
Sometimes did collections for people who didn't want fingerprints.
“Who hired him?”
“He says Dominic.”
There it was.
The villain.
The certainty.
The thing Tessa warned me I might want.
Instead of relief, I felt sick.
Because part of me had still hoped my cousin hadn't crossed that final line.
Ortiz continued.
“He says Dominic didn't order your death.”
“What?”
“He was told to shoot you below the waist.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What did you say?”
“The instruction was to leave you alive.”
I stared at my legs.
Suddenly every month of paralysis became something else.
Not collateral damage.
Not an accident.
A plan.
Dominic had not tried to kill me.
May you like
He had tried to create exactly the man everyone now considered too broken to lead.
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