The first week working at the White mansion was nothing like I imagined.

I thought taking care of a millionaire would mean helping him with simple things.

Meals.
Medication.
Daily routines.

I was wrong.

Ethan Hale was not a patient who needed help.

He was a man fighting against the entire world.

Every morning at exactly seven, he was already awake.

Every night, he stayed in his room until everyone went to sleep.

He hated anyone touching his wheelchair.
He hated anyone asking about his accident.
And he hated even more when someone looked at him with pity.

The first three days, he barely spoke to me.

When I brought breakfast, he said nothing.

When I adjusted the position of his chair, he stopped me.

When I repaired the loose handle on his desk drawer, he stared at me like I had committed a crime.

—You really can’t leave anything alone, can you?

I looked at him.

—Broken things bother me.

His eyes became colder.

—Not everything broken can be fixed.

For some reason, that sentence stayed in my mind.

Because Ethan wasn’t talking about the drawer.

He was talking about himself.

I had admired him since I was fifteen years old.

Back then, Ethan Hale was the kind of person everyone noticed.

The top student.
The debate champion.
The boy who always helped others but never seemed to need help himself.

I was the girl standing in the corner of the classroom with oil stains on her hands from helping my father repair machines after school.

He probably never even knew my name.

But I knew everything about him.

I knew he liked black coffee.
I knew he stayed late in the library.
I knew he always carried an extra pen because someone would eventually ask him for one.

A silly childhood crush.

A secret I never told anyone.

And now, years later, the person I once admired was sitting in front of me, angry at the world.

But something about him was strange.

The more I observed him, the more I realized his wheelchair was not the only thing damaged.

Someone had been slowly destroying his confidence.

One afternoon, while cleaning his study, I found a folder hidden behind several books.

I wasn’t trying to read it.

But when the papers slipped onto the floor, one sentence caught my attention.

“Accident investigation report.”

My heart stopped.

I picked up the papers carefully.

The official report said Ethan lost control of his vehicle because of a mechanical failure.

A simple accident.

But then I noticed something.

The maintenance records didn’t match.

The replacement parts were installed three days before the accident.

And the signature approving the repairs…

Was from someone inside the White family.

I quickly placed the papers back.

But it was too late.

Ethan was standing behind me.

His expression was terrifying.

—What did you see?

I turned around.

—I wasn’t searching for this.

—Answer me.

His voice was colder than usual.

I hesitated.

Then I told the truth.

—Someone changed parts on your vehicle before the accident.

The room became silent.

For a moment, I thought he would get angry.

Instead, his face changed.

Not anger.

Fear.

Real fear.

—Forget what you saw.

I frowned.

—Why?

—Because you don’t understand who you’re dealing with.

I stepped closer.

—Someone tried to destroy your life.

—And if you continue investigating, they might destroy yours too.

That was the first time Ethan looked at me like he was worried.

Not annoyed.

Not irritated.

Worried.

I crossed my arms.

—You hired me to take care of you.

—Yes.

—Then let me do my job.

He looked confused.

—My job isn’t just pushing your wheelchair.

I pointed at the report.

—My job is making sure nothing else breaks.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then something unexpected happened.

Ethan smiled.

It was small.

Almost impossible to notice.

But it was the first time I saw the Ethan from my memories.

The boy from the school hallway.

The person I thought I had lost forever.

—You’re still exactly the same.

I froze.

—What?

He looked away.

—Nothing.

But I knew.

He remembered me.

The question was how.

That night, I asked Mrs. White about it.

At first, she avoided answering.

Then she sighed.

—Ethan knew you before today.

I stared at her.

—That’s impossible.

She shook her head.

—When he was in high school, he told me about a girl who always repaired broken things.

My heart skipped.

—He remembered?

She smiled sadly.

—He said that girl was the only person who never looked at him like he was perfect.

I didn’t know what to say.

Because all those years, I thought I was the only one secretly paying attention.

But maybe I wasn’t.

The next morning, something happened.

Ethan called me before breakfast.

When I entered his room, he was holding his wheelchair’s brake system.

The same part I repaired on my first day.

—Fix this.

I looked at him.

—You could do it yourself.

—I could.

—Then why ask me?

He was silent.

Then he answered quietly.

—Because I trust your hands.

Those words shocked me more than any confession could have.

But before I could respond, the mansion alarm suddenly sounded.

Everyone ran toward the main hall.

The security system showed someone had entered Ethan’s private office.

The cameras were damaged.

The files were missing.

And on Ethan’s desk, there was only one thing left behind.

A photograph.

A picture of Ethan before the accident.

And behind him stood the person who had secretly caused everything.

Ethan picked it up.

His face lost all color.

Because the person in the photograph was not a stranger.

It was someone he had trusted for years.

Someone who was still living inside the White mansion.

And that person had just discovered that Nora Hayes was no longer just a caregiver.

She was the only person capable of exposing the truth.

read the entire Part 3 below.