“Lock the door.”

My voice was barely a whisper.

But Grace heard it.

She didn’t move for a second.

She only stared at me.

Five days of pretending to be unconscious had left my body weak, but I had never seen someone look more terrified than she did at that moment.

“Mr. Moretti…”

“Lock the door,” I repeated.

This time, my voice carried more authority.

The same voice that had made boardrooms go silent.

The same voice people feared.

Grace rushed to the door and turned the lock.

Then she stood there, frozen.

“You’re awake.”

I looked at the ceiling.

“Yes.”

“But everyone thinks you’re in a coma.”

“That was the point.”

Her face changed.

“You planned this?”

I slowly turned my head toward her.

“No.”

My ribs screamed with the movement.

“The crash wasn’t planned.”

Grace looked down.

Then she whispered:

“They really tried to kill you.”

I didn’t answer.

Because hearing it from someone else made it more real.

For five days, I had watched people I trusted reveal themselves.

People who smiled at my dinners.

People who shook my hand.

People who called me family.

All of them waiting for me to disappear.

“Tell me everything you heard.”

Grace hesitated.

“Mr. Moretti, I don’t know if I should—”

“You should.”

She swallowed.

“I heard Miss Hale talking to someone two days ago.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. A man.”

“About what?”

Grace looked uncomfortable.

Then she spoke.

“She said the crash was supposed to finish the problem.”

My fingers tightened against the blanket.

“Finish the problem?”

“She said you were too careful. That even if you survived, you would eventually uncover everything.”

Everything.

That word mattered.

Because Veronica wasn’t only after my money.

She was hiding something.

“Did she mention my accounts?”

Grace nodded slowly.

“She said once you were declared unable to make decisions, everything would become easier.”

I closed my eyes.

The pieces started connecting.

The emergency trust documents.

The lawyer discussing control of my assets.

The sudden concern from people who had ignored me for years.

They weren’t waiting for me to die.

They were waiting for me to become powerless.

“Grace.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you tell me?”

She looked surprised.

“Because someone needed to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She looked down at her hands.

For the first time, I noticed how worn they were.

Small cuts.

Rough skin.

The hands of someone who worked every day while people like Veronica walked past without seeing her.

“My father spent his entire life working for powerful people.”

She paused.

“He always said the worst thing about wealthy families wasn’t the money.”

“What was it?”

“The belief that nobody else matters.”

Her eyes met mine.

“I watched people ignore you for years.”

That surprised me.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Grace gave a small, sad smile.

“Everyone thinks powerful people don’t need anyone.”

She looked toward the flowers.

“But sometimes the people with the most money are the ones nobody asks if they’re okay.”

For the first time in five days, I felt something other than anger.

Respect.

“Grace.”

She straightened.

“Yes?”

“I need your help.”

Her eyes widened.

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

She looked almost offended.

“Mr. Moretti, I clean your apartment.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You observe.”

Silence.

“You notice things other people ignore.”

Grace didn’t respond.

Because she knew it was true.

“I need someone they don’t see.”

A few seconds passed.

Then she nodded.

“Okay.”

The next morning, the world still believed Dominic Moretti was unconscious.

That was our advantage.

Grace became my eyes outside the room.

She brought me information.

Small things.

But important things.

Veronica visited every morning.

Anthony visited every afternoon.

My lawyer came once.

And every single one of them spoke as if I wasn’t there.

As if I was already gone.

On the sixth day, Grace entered my room with a different expression.

“What happened?”

She closed the door.

“I found something.”

My body immediately tensed.

“What?”

She placed a small envelope on the table.

“It was hidden behind a painting in your penthouse.”

I stared at it.

“My penthouse?”

She nodded.

“Miss Hale put it there.”

My eyes narrowed.

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw her place something behind that painting last month.”

I reached for the envelope.

Inside was a photograph.

A man standing beside Veronica.

I knew him.

Everyone in my organization knew him.

Anthony Moretti.

My cousin.

The man who cried beside my hospital bed.

The man who promised loyalty.

My stomach tightened.

There was also a document.

A transfer agreement.

My signature was copied at the bottom.

But I had never signed it.

Grace looked at me.

“They were going to move control of your company before Friday.”

Friday.

The same day Veronica told me to die.

I looked at the forged document.

Then the photograph.

Then the woman who everyone treated like she was invisible.

Grace had found what my entire security team missed.

And suddenly, I understood something.

The people trying to destroy me had made one mistake.

They only watched the people with power.

They never watched the woman carrying the cleaning supplies.

Grace stepped closer.

“Mr. Moretti?”

I looked at her.

“Call my physician.”

“Are you going to wake up?”

I looked toward the hospital window.

Outside, New York continued believing I was helpless.

“Not yet.”

She frowned.

“Why?”

I smiled for the first time in days.

“Because I want them to finish their plan.”

“Why?”

“Because when they believe they’ve won…”

I looked at the forged signature.

“They’ll reveal everything.”

Grace became silent.

Then she asked the question everyone else would have asked.

“What happens after that?”

I looked at the door.

At the world waiting outside.

“At that point…”

I whispered.

“Dominic Moretti comes back.”

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