“How?”
“Because your grandfather required any transfer to be witnessed by me in person.”
Detective Beckett leaned toward the phone.
“Mr. Grayson, can you send those records to law enforcement?”
“I can send copies immediately, but there’s something else.”
A strange pressure built in my chest.
“What?”
“This morning, a deed was filed transferring your parents’ residence and two adjacent parcels to Melrose Residential Partners.”
The hospital room seemed to tilt.
Wyatt gripped the bedrail.
“The attack happened tonight,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Then the transfer was filed before Sadie arrived at the house.”
“Yes.”
Detective Beckett’s expression became grim.
“That suggests premeditation.”
Mr. Grayson lowered his voice.
“It suggests they expected Sadie to be unable to challenge the documents.”
My right hand began trembling.
Unable.
Dead?
Unconscious?
Disfigured and broken enough to disappear?
I remembered my mother’s laugh.
**Let’s see if Wyatt still loves you with that face.**
Maybe the attack had never been only about Wyatt.
Maybe Melanie’s obsession with him had been the perfect excuse.
A story they could use to disguise a much older, uglier motive.
Wyatt saw the realization on my face.
“They wanted the trust,” he whispered.
“And they wanted me out of the way.”
Detective Beckett stepped into the hallway and made a call.
Within minutes, officers were sent back to my parents’ house with instructions to secure computers, financial records, and any documents connected to Melrose Residential Partners.
Then Beckett received a message.
His gaze moved from the screen to me.
“The old man has been found.”
“Where?”
“Two blocks from the house. A patrol officer found him sitting at a bus stop.”
“Who is he?”
“He says his name is Walter Pike.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Why was he in their house?”
“He claims he used to work for your grandfather.”
My pulse quickened.
“Bring him here.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Why?”
“He’s being transported to another hospital. He appears to have been drugged.”
Wyatt’s hand tightened around mine.
Detective Beckett continued.
“He told the officer your parents had been keeping him in the basement since yesterday.”
A coldness spread through me that no blanket could stop.
My parents had not merely planned an attack.
They had imprisoned a witness.
“Is he going to live?”
“We think so.”
“What did he see?”
“He hasn’t given a full statement yet.”
Dr. Hart entered before I could ask more.
“We need to take Sadie into surgery.”
“I’m not finished,” I protested.
“You have internal bleeding around the fracture. This cannot wait.”
Detective Beckett put away his notebook.
“We’ll continue when you’re stable.”
As the nurses prepared to move me, Wyatt bent down.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“What if my parents come?”
“They won’t get near you.”
“What if Melanie runs?”
“She won’t get far.”
His confidence should have comforted me.
Instead, fear pressed harder against my ribs.
Because Melanie had always been underestimated.
She smiled beautifully, dressed carefully, and cried whenever someone confronted her.
Growing up, she could break a lamp and convince my parents I had done it.
She once stole money from my purse, then accused me of being jealous when I found it in her room.
She didn’t lie like an amateur.
She lied until the truth felt cruel.
As they wheeled me toward surgery, I caught Wyatt’s sleeve.
“Don’t believe anything she says.”
“I won’t.”
“She’ll make herself the victim.”
“Not this time.”
The operating room doors opened.
The last thing I saw was Wyatt standing beneath the fluorescent lights, covered in my blood and looking ready to burn the world down for me.
When I woke, dawn had begun to soften the sky outside my window.
My face was wrapped in bandages. Pain pulsed beneath them, heavy and deep.
For a few seconds, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then Wyatt leaned forward from the chair beside my bed.
“Hey.”
His voice cracked.
I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry.
He raised a cup of water and held the straw carefully.
“Slowly.”
“Did they fix it?”
“The surgery went well.”
“My eye?”
“The doctor still believes your vision will return.”
