I looked at her.
Then at him.
And said softly:
“I remember the accident.”
Silence.
Tiny.
Sharp.
Instant.
My father recovered first.
“That’s normal after trauma,” he said casually. “Memories get confused.”
“No,” I replied. “I remember your SUV crossing the line.”
Celia’s fingers tightened around her purse.
My father smiled slowly.
“Elena…”
Then he leaned closer beside my bed.
Too close.
“You need to be careful,” he whispered softly enough for only me to hear. “Head injuries can make people imagine dangerous things.”
Threat.
Not concern.
Classic Victor Vale.
I smiled weakly.
“You’re right.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
He still thought I was fragile.
Good.
Because at exactly 8:00 a.m., three things happened simultaneously.
First:
My attorney filed an emergency petition freezing all discretionary transfers tied to Vale Holdings.
Second:
An anonymous package containing hospital audio recordings arrived at the corporate ethics division.
And third…
