"I know."

"What if he knew something?"

"Then someone may have wanted him silent."

Music drifted faintly from the ballroom.

Guests were still laughing.

Still drinking.

Still celebrating Nathaniel's tragic return to a life they believed had been ruined.

Nobody knew that his legs worked.

Nobody knew his accident had been engineered.

And perhaps nobody knew that his father's death fourteen years earlier was connected to the same machinery of lies.

Nathaniel suddenly understood the advantage of the wheelchair.

The people behind the accident believed they had already won.

He could let them keep believing.

"Marcus."

"Yes."

"No confrontation."

Marcus nodded.

"You want to continue."

"I want everyone to think nothing has changed."

Clara stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

Nathaniel stood.

Slowly.

Silently.

Clara's mouth fell open.

"There was no spinal injury," he said.

She stared at him.

"You can walk."

"Yes."

Her expression moved through disbelief, relief, anger, and finally something close to betrayal.

"You let Vanessa say those things."

"Yes."

"You let everyone think—"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because someone tampered with my car."

Her eyes widened.

"You knew?"

"Not immediately. But we became suspicious."

"And you decided to pretend?"

"To see what people did when they believed I had lost my power."

Clara crossed her arms.

"That's insane."

Marcus almost smiled.

Nathaniel didn't.

"It has been useful."

"You humiliated yourself."

"No."

He thought of Vanessa.

"They humiliated themselves."

Clara's expression changed.

"And me?"

"What about you?"

"You let me lift you into bed."

Nathaniel looked away.

"You let me bring meals because I thought you couldn't reach the downstairs dining room."

"Yes."

"I changed the bedding around you."

"I know."

"You could stand the entire time?"

"Yes."

Clara stared at him.

"You should have told me."

"I trusted four people."

"Apparently not me."

"No."

The word hurt her.

Nathaniel saw it immediately.

He had expected suspicion from everyone.

He hadn't expected that look.

He had hurt the one person in the house who had treated him like he was still whole.

"I didn't know why you were in my house," he said.

"That makes two of us."

"What does that mean?"

"I didn't know whether you were anything like your father."

Nathaniel looked at the photograph.

"What was my father like?"

"My father admired him."

"You never met Robert."

"No. But my father talked about him constantly."

"What did he say?"

"That Robert Cross discovered something rotten inside Cross Meridian."

"Financial?"

"I don't know."

"That Martin was involved?"

"My father never said directly."

The ballroom music changed.

Nathaniel looked toward the door.

Vanessa would notice his absence soon.

"Clara, I need you to continue exactly as before."

She stared at him.

"You want me to keep pretending you're paralyzed?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if your father died for what he knew, and my accident is connected to the same people, the only advantage we have is that they think I'm helpless."

Clara considered him.

"What do I get?"

"The truth about your father."

"And if that truth implicates your family?"

"We follow it."

"Your company?"

"Yes."

"You?"

"If necessary."

She held his gaze.

"You mean that?"

"Yes."

Finally, she nodded.

"Then sit down."

Nathaniel blinked.

"What?"

She pointed at the wheelchair.

"You're supposed to be paralyzed."

Marcus laughed.

Nathaniel sat.

Clara pulled the blanket into place.

Then she looked directly into his eyes.

"You still deserve kindness."

Nathaniel almost smiled.

"And apparently instructions."

"Especially instructions."

The library door opened.

Daniel Mercer stood there.

Nathaniel's oldest friend.

His chief operating officer.

The man whose approval code had been used to purchase the brake component found in Nathaniel's wrecked car.

Daniel looked from Clara to Marcus to Nathaniel.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine," Nathaniel said.

Daniel's eyes moved to the photograph.

"What's that?"

Clara picked it up before he could reach it.

"Old family picture."

Daniel smiled too quickly.

"Need help getting back to the party?"

"No."

He stepped closer.

Nathaniel noticed his right hand.

A fresh cut crossed his palm.

"Paper cut?"

"Warehouse inspection."

"Which warehouse?"

Daniel's smile remained.

"North Ridge."

Nathaniel's pulse slowed.

The same depot.

"What were you doing there?"

"Reviewing old fleet records."

"Why?"

"Board request."

"Which board member?"

Daniel's eyes changed.

Only slightly.

"Martin."

There it was.

Martin and Daniel were connected.

Or at least they wanted Nathaniel to think they were.

"Anything interesting?"

"No."

Daniel looked toward Clara.

"Just old junk."

Someone called his name from the ballroom.

He excused himself.

The moment the door closed, Marcus whispered:

"He's lying."

"Yes."

Clara looked down at the photograph.

"Why would he go to North Ridge tonight?"

Nathaniel stared at the door.

"Because he knows someone is looking backward."

Marcus checked his tablet.

Then his expression changed.

"The East Hall camera."

Security footage appeared.

Twenty-eight minutes earlier.

Someone had approached Robert Cross's portrait.

Removed it.

Reached behind it.

Searched.

Then replaced it.

The person turned toward the camera.

Vanessa.

Clara's face went white.

"She moved the portrait."

Nathaniel watched the footage again.

Vanessa carried nothing when she left.

Marcus enhanced the audio.

Her mouth moved.

A man's voice answered through her phone.

"It isn't there."

The male voice replied:

"Then Samuel must have moved it before the fire."

Clara grabbed the desk.

Nathaniel felt the room become colder.

They kept the party going.

That was the hardest part.

Nathaniel returned to the ballroom in his wheelchair while knowing Vanessa had searched behind his dead father's portrait.

She smiled when she saw him.

"How are you feeling?"

The performance was flawless.

Concerned fiancée.

Loving partner.

He wondered how many lies he had kissed goodnight.

"I'm tired."

"Poor thing."

She touched his shoulder.

Nathaniel wanted to pull away.

Instead, he gave her the weak smile she expected.

"You should go upstairs."

"Soon."

Her eyes moved toward Clara.

Something sharpened.

"The maid seems attached to you."

"Her name is Clara."

Vanessa laughed softly.

"I know her name."

"Then use it."

Her expression cooled.

Nathaniel had never spoken to her like that before the accident.

Or perhaps he had simply never listened closely enough to her reaction.

"You're irritable."

"Pain."

That answer satisfied her.

She walked away.

Within thirty minutes, nearly everyone important in the ballroom had revealed something.

Martin kept checking Daniel.

Daniel kept checking Vanessa.

Evelyn spoke privately with Martin twice.

Clara circulated among them with a champagne tray, almost invisible.

Samuel Bennett's daughter understood what her father had meant.

Nobody watched the people who served them.

At eleven-thirty, the reception ended.

The last car disappeared down the drive.

Nathaniel remained in the wheelchair until the doors closed.

Then he stood.

Clara watched from the staircase.

"You're really going to keep doing that every day?"

"For now."

"You're going to destroy your back pretending not to use your legs."

Marcus muttered, "That would be ironic."

Nathaniel ignored him.

Rebecca Sloan arrived shortly before midnight.

She examined the photograph, Samuel's note, and the brake analysis.

"This is enough to open several questions," she said. "Not enough to accuse anyone."

"Vanessa searched behind the portrait."

"She may have been looking for something unrelated."

Clara stared at her.

Rebecca added, "I said may. I didn't say I believe it."

"Daniel's authorization purchased the brake fitting," Marcus said.

Rebecca looked at Nathaniel.

"Could his code have been copied?"