The CEO’s Disabled Wife is no Longer Yours

Chapter 2

Three months. That was how long it took for the plaster casts to come off, finally revealing the reality of what the crash had done to me.

I sat on the edge of the physical therapy table, staring down at my legs. I didn't recognize them.

The powerful, toned muscles that used to carry me across stages in Paris and New York were completely gone, replaced by atrophied skin and jagged, angry surgical scars running down my calves.

I couldn't even stand up by myself.

"Okay, Clara, let's just try putting a little weight on the right foot," the physical therapist said gently.

I gripped the parallel bars, my knuckles turning white. I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and pushed. A sickening, electric pain shot up my spine. My knee immediately buckled.

I collapsed, but I didn't hit the floor. Julian caught me.

He was always there. My perfect, devoted husband.

He scooped me up into his arms effortlessly, his expensive cologne masking the sterile smell of the clinic.

"I've got you," Julian murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I've got you. It's okay. We're done for today."

I buried my face in his neck, hot tears of sheer humiliation soaking his collar. I was entirely helpless. I couldn't walk, I couldn't drive, I couldn't even get into the shower without him carrying me.

I had gone from an independent lead dancer to a broken doll, entirely reliant on his mercy.

And Julian was so merciful.

When he carried me into our grand, empty estate that evening, he didn't put me in my wheelchair. He carried me straight to the sofa, wrapped a cashmere blanket around my ruined legs, and brought me a cup of tea.

He looked at me with such deep, unwavering affection that it made my chest ache.

"You're working so hard," he said softly, sitting on the coffee table facing me. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I am so proud of you."

"I'm a burden," I whispered, the ugly truth finally spilling out. "Julian, look at me. I'm ruined. You didn't sign up to be my nurse."

Julian's jaw tightened. He slid off the table onto his knees, right in front of me, and took both of my hands in his.

"Don't ever say that," he said, his voice fierce and steady. "I love you. I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you. You are mine, and I am never letting you go. Do you understand?"

I nodded, fresh tears falling. I was so incredibly lucky to have him. If I hadn't rejected his brother for him, I would be going through this hell alone.

Later that night, the rain started again. The sound of it drumming against the windows made my scars ache. I woke up shivering around midnight. The space beside me in bed was empty and cool.

I didn't want to ring the bell and wake the housekeeper just to get another blanket. I wanted Julian.

Swallowing my pride, I hauled my dead weight into the wheelchair parked by the bed. Every movement was exhausting, a miserable reminder of what I had lost.

I quietly rolled myself out of the bedroom and down the long, dimly lit hallway toward his study.

The heavy mahogany door was cracked open just an inch, spilling a sliver of warm yellow light onto the hardwood floor.

I raised my hand to push the door open, but the sound of Julian's voice stopped me.

"I don't care what the risks are," Julian was saying. His tone was entirely different from the gentle man who had just put me to bed. It was cold and calculating. "Pay the driver the rest of the money. Cash, unmarked bills."

I froze, my hand hovering in the air. The driver? Who?

"He's getting anxious, Julian," another voice replied. I recognized it instantly. It was Dr. Vance, the lead surgeon who had operated on me. "The police are still circling the intersection cameras. If they figure out the traffic lights were tampered with..."

"They won't," Julian snapped. "Just keep the driver quiet. If he threatens to talk, get rid of him."

A suffocating pressure built in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I sat paralyzed in the chair as the reality of what I was hearing began to tear my world apart.

"I still can't believe you went through with it," Dr. Vance sighed, the clinking of ice against a glass echoing in the room. "Crippling your own wife. It's ruthless, even for a Moretti. Was it really worth it?"

Silence hung heavy in the air for a long, agonizing moment.

"Marcus was going to move Cicia to Italy," Julian finally answered, his voice devoid of any guilt. "If my brother took Cicia away, I would lose her forever. I had to create a crisis big enough to keep Marcus in the city. Now, Cicia is right down the street."

"And your wife?"

Julian let out a dark, quiet scoff. "She is exactly where she belongs. Grounded. Completely dependent on me. She can't run, and she can't leave. She'll never dance away from me again."

My hands shook so violently I had to clap them over my mouth to keep from screaming.

The accident wasn't an accident. The truck. The swerve into the median. The crushed metal that stole my life.

He did it. The man I loved, the man who had just wiped my tears and promised to protect me, had shattered my legs and locked me in a cage.

And he did it all just to keep his brother's wife, close by.

I slowly backed the wheelchair away from the door, the shadows of the hallway swallowing me whole as the ultimate realization set in.

I wasn't his beloved wife. I was his captive, the leverage to seeing his beloved.