The handle turned again.

“Grace?” the man outside called, his voice patient, almost friendly. “Open the door. Dr. Bennett ordered the injection.”

Grace stood beside my bed, her face drained of color.

I held one finger against my lips.

Then I whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“Does Dr. Bennett know I’m awake?”

She shook her head frantically.

“No. Nobody knows. I swear.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

The door rattled.

“Grace, don’t make me ask twice.”

I looked at the clock.

11:53 p.m.

Seven minutes.

Seven minutes until Friday, when my fiancée would gain temporary control of my voting shares if I were declared ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.

And judging by the signatures on the amendment, the people waiting outside my room had no intention of letting me survive long enough to challenge it.

I pulled the document beneath the blanket.

“Listen carefully,” I whispered. “When that door opens, you’re going to act frightened. Tell him I started moving. Tell him you think I’m having a seizure.”

Grace stared at me.

“But what if he—”

“Do exactly what I say.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded.

I had spent fifteen years building the Moretti organization into something my enemies feared and my allies respected. I had survived betrayals, federal investigations, and two ᴀssᴀssination attempts.

Yet I had never imagined that the most dangerous person in my life would be the woman wearing my engagement ring.

The woman who had kissed my forehead and wished me ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.

“Open the door!” the man barked.

Grace stumbled backward and shouted, “Please! Something’s wrong with Mr. Moretti!”

Silence.

Then the lock clicked.

The door opened three inches.

A man in blue scrubs pushed his way inside, carrying a metal tray. He was broad-shouldered, with a shaved head and a small scar running beneath his left ear.

I recognized him immediately.

Viktor Sokolov.

Anthony’s private enforcer.

The same man who had once threatened a business partner in my own office.

He wasn’t a doctor.

He wasn’t even hospital staff.

And the syringe on his tray was filled with something I had no intention of letting enter my bloodstream.

Viktor glanced at Grace.

“What’s this nonsense?”

“He moved!” she cried, backing into the wall. “His fingers moved, and then his chest started shaking. I think he’s waking up!”

Viktor’s expression changed.

For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped.

Fear.

Not concern. Not surprise.

Fear that his victim might still be alive.

He placed the tray on the bedside table and approached me.

“Let’s see what we have here.”

I forced my breathing to remain shallow and irregular.

Viktor lifted my eyelid with his thumb.

“Dominic,” he murmured. “Can you hear me?”

I remained still.

He pinched my arm hard enough to leave a mark.

Nothing.

Then he looked at Grace.

“Get out.”

“But—”

“NOW!”

Grace reached for the door, but before she could leave, Viktor grabbed her wrist.

“And if you tell anyone what happened in here, you’ll be the next person on this floor who stops breathing.”

He released her.

She stumbled into the hallway.

The door remained open.

Viktor turned back to my bed.

“Now,” he muttered, “let’s finish this.”

He reached for the syringe.

That was when I moved.

My hand sH๏τ out from beneath the blanket and clamped around his wrist.

The syringe stopped inches from my arm.

Viktor’s eyes widened.

I opened mine.

“Funny thing about comas,” I said quietly. “People get careless when they think you’re not listening.”

For one frozen second, neither of us moved.

Then he tried to pull away.

I twisted his wrist and sent the syringe crashing to the floor.

He lunged toward me.

My fractured ribs screamed as I swung my legs off the bed. Pain exploded through my chest, but I caught his collar and drove him against the bedside cabinet.

The metal tray clattered to the floor.

“Who sent you?” I demanded.

He struck my injured side.

White light burst behind my eyes.

My grip weakened.

Viktor shoved me against the bed and reached for the alarm panel.

I grabbed the metal water pitcher and smashed it against his shoulder.

He staggered.

“Anthony?” I snarled.

His silence was answer enough.

I seized his shirt.

“Did my cousin order you to kill me?”

Viktor spat blood onto the floor.

“Your cousin doesn’t have to order anything anymore. Veronica owns the future now.”

I smiled despite the pain.

“Not if I’m still breathing.”

I slammed my fist into his jaw.

He collapsed beside the bed.

For three seconds, I could hear nothing but my own ragged breathing.

Then the clock caught my eye.

11:55 p.m.

Five minutes.

I grabbed the phone from the bedside table and dialed the private number of my head of security.

No answer.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Of course.

If Anthony had orchestrated the crash, he would have made certain that my usual security team was either compromised or out of reach.

I needed another way out.

Then I heard footsteps approaching.

Several pairs.

Grace appeared at the doorway, her eyes wide with terror.

“Mr. Moretti, you need to hide!”

“Who is it?”

“Miss Hale. She’s coming with two men. And Dr. Bennett is with her.”

I looked down at Viktor.

He was beginning to stir.

“Help me get him into the bathroom.”

Together, we dragged him behind the door. Grace locked it and returned just as I climbed back into bed.

She straightened my blanket with trembling hands.

“Can you really trust anyone?” she whispered.

I looked at the folded amendment.

“No.”

Then I met her eyes.

“But I can trust what people do when they think nobody is watching.”

The footsteps stopped outside.

A familiar voice floated through the door.

“Is he ready?”

Veronica.

My beautiful, faithless fiancée.

Dr. Bennett answered, “Everything is prepared. We only need to administer the final dose.”

“And afterward?”

“His heart will stop. With the damage from the accident, it won’t look unusual.”

I felt something cold settle inside my chest.

They hadn’t merely planned to take my company.

They had planned my death down to the medical explanation.

Veronica laughed softly.

“And the trust?”

“Once the death certificate is filed, your lawyers can begin the transfer.”

“Excellent.”

A pause followed.

Then she said something that made my blood run colder than the injection waiting on the floor.

“What about Grace?”

Dr. Bennett lowered his voice.

“She knows nothing important.”

“That’s what you said about Nico’s driver.”

My fingers curled beneath the blanket.

Nico.

My driver had died in the crash. Until that moment, I had believed he was simply the unfortunate man caught in the same trap as me.

Now I understood that Veronica had known more than she was admitting.

“He was never supposed to die,” the doctor said.

Veronica’s response was immediate.

“Don’t insult me with excuses. Dominic’s car was supposed to go over the barrier. If Nico hadn’t been driving so fast, Dominic might have survived without the injuries we needed.”

I stared at the ceiling.

They had not just sabotaged my car.

They had calculated the accident.

The location. The speed. The outcome.

And when I survived, they had improvised.

Dr. Bennett spoke again.

“Friday is almost here. We should proceed.”

Veronica’s heels clicked against the floor.

“Not yet.”

The door opened.

She entered wearing a cream-colored coat over her black dress, her engagement ring sparkling beneath the fluorescent lights.

Her eyes moved over the room.

The overturned tray.

The broken pitcher.

The empty space beside my bed.

She stopped.

“Where’s Viktor?”

Grace lowered her head.

“I don’t know, Miss Hale.”

Veronica studied her for a long moment.

Then she looked at me.

“Dominic, darling.”

She approached the bed and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead.

“You’ve caused me so much trouble.”

Her touch was gentle.

Her voice was affectionate.

But I knew now that the same hand that had placed flowers beside my bed had signed the document that would strip my family of its empire.

She bent down and kissed my forehead again.

“Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

Behind her, Dr. Bennett prepared another syringe.

I could have opened my eyes then.

I could have grabbed Veronica by the throat and demanded answers.

But anger was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

Not yet.

Because the amendment was only part of their plan.

I needed to know who else had signed it, who had paid for the crash, and how far the conspiracy reached.

So I remained motionless.

Veronica took my hand.

“Do you remember our first date?” she whispered. “You told me you hated lies.”

She laughed under her breath.

“I should have known then that we’d never last.”

She turned toward the doctor.

“Do it.”

Dr. Bennett stepped forward.

The syringe caught the light.

Grace suddenly gasped.

“Wait!”

Every head turned.

She pointed at the heart monitor.

“Look at his pulse!”

Dr. Bennett glanced at the screen.

For the first time that night, genuine panic crossed his face.

The monitor showed a sudden irregularity.

He rushed toward it.

“What the hell?”

Veronica stepped back.

“What’s happening?”

“He may be going into cardiac arrest.”

“Then save him!”

The doctor stared at her.

“You told me to stop his heart!”

The room went silent.

Veronica’s face turned white.

She had forgotten that, even in a room full of conspirators, people sometimes panicked and said the truth aloud.

Grace covered her mouth.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Because the doctor’s next move changed everything.

He reached for the emergency call ʙuттon.

Veronica seized his arm.

“Don’t you dare!”

“He’s deteriorating!”

“Then make it look natural!”

“You’re insane!”

She slapped him.

The sound cracked through the room.

“Do you understand what happens if he wakes up?” she hissed. “Anthony loses everything. I lose everything. And you will spend the rest of your life in a cell if you’re lucky.”

Dr. Bennett stared at her in disbelief.

Then he whispered, “You said he would never wake up.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Surprise.”

I opened my eyes.

Veronica screamed.

Dr. Bennett stumbled backward, knocking a chair onto its side.

Grace rushed toward the door.

I sat upright, fighting through the agony in my ribs.

“Don’t move,” I told them.

Veronica stared at me as though she were looking at a ghost.

“Dominic?”

I pulled the engagement ring from her finger.

She didn’t even resist.

“Y-you were supposed to be unconscious.”

“I was.”

I looked at the syringe.

“Unfortunately for you, I heard everything.”

Her expression changed from terror to calculation.

“Darling, please. You don’t understand.”

I laughed once.

“Then explain it to me.”

She stepped closer.

“Anthony forced me into this. He threatened my family. I was trying to protect myself.”

“By ordering a doctor to kill me?”

“I never wanted you ᴅᴇᴀᴅ!”

“You told me to die before Friday.”

Her lips parted.

No answer came.

I held up the amendment.

“Your signature. Anthony’s signature. The doctor’s signature. How many more people signed my death warrant?”

She began to cry.

Real tears, perhaps. Or another performance.

By then, I no longer cared.

“You have to believe me,” she pleaded. “I love you.”

I looked at the woman I had planned to marry.

The woman who had stood beside me at charity galas, held my hand at my father’s funeral, and promised she would never abandon me.

Then I remembered her whisper.

Die before Friday, Dominic.

I leaned toward her.

“If you loved me, Veronica, you would have prayed for me to wake up.”

Her face crumpled.

Instead, she reached into her coat.

I saw the movement.

So did Grace.

“Mr. Moretti!”

Veronica pulled out a small black pistol.

Before she could raise it, Grace grabbed the metal tray and hurled it at her arm.

The gun fired.

The bullet shattered the window beside my bed.

I lunged forward, ignoring the agony in my chest, and knocked Veronica to the floor.

The pistol skidded beneath the cabinet.

Dr. Bennett bolted for the door.

“Not so fast,” I growled.

He froze when he saw Viktor emerging from the bathroom, one hand pressed against his injured shoulder.

Viktor looked at me.

Then at Veronica.

Then at the doctor.

For the first time, I saw uncertainty in his eyes.

“Boss,” he said slowly, “I was told you were already ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

I stared at him.

“By whom?”

He hesitated.

Veronica began screaming.

“Don’t tell him anything!”

Viktor’s gaze shifted toward her.

Then he made his decision.

“Anthony Moretti,” he said. “He arranged the crash. He paid me to make sure you didn’t survive the hospital.”

I felt the pieces click into place.

My cousin hadn’t merely wanted my company.

He wanted my seat.

My authority.

My entire organization.

And Veronica had agreed to help him take it.

I reached for the hospital phone.

“Security. Room 814. Now.”

This time, someone answered.

Within seconds, footsteps thundered down the hallway.

My personal security team burst into the room, led by Marcus Reed, the one man I had deliberately kept away from the hospital because I suspected every person close to me was being watched.

Marcus took one look at the scene.

“Boss?”

“Secure the room. Nobody leaves.”

His men restrained Veronica, Dr. Bennett, and Viktor.

Veronica struggled against them.

“Dominic! You can’t do this! We’re engaged!”

I looked at her ring lying on the floor.

“Not anymore.”

Then I turned to Marcus.

“Call the district attorney. Preserve every camera recording from this hospital. Get the trust amendment authenticated, and find out who has been accessing my accounts.”

Marcus nodded.

“And Anthony?”

I looked at the clock.

11:59 p.m.

One minute before Friday.

“Don’t warn him,” I said. “Let him believe everything went according to plan.”

My phone vibrated.

A message appeared from an unknown number.

Congratulations, cousin. By the time you read this, the shares will be mine. You should have signed the papers when you had the chance.

I stared at the screen.

Then another message arrived.

Enjoy your last night, Dominic. Tomorrow, the entire family will learn who really runs Moretti Holdings.

I handed the phone to Marcus.

“Trace it.”

He studied the message.

“Boss, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Your cousin has already called an emergency board meeting. It’s scheduled for nine tomorrow morning. He’s telling everyone you’re ᴅᴇᴀᴅ and that your fiancée will act as the interim voting representative.”

I smiled.

A slow, cold smile.

“Then we shouldn’t keep the board waiting.”

Marcus looked at my bandaged chest.

“You can barely stand.”

“I don’t need to stand.”

I looked toward Veronica, who had gone strangely quiet.

“I only need to be alive.”

At midnight, my trust remained intact.

My shares had not transferred.

And Dominic Moretti was no longer a helpless man trapped inside a hospital bed.

He was a man who knew exactly who wanted him ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.

But as Marcus helped me prepare to leave the hospital under armed protection, Grace approached with one final piece of evidence.

“I found this in Miss Hale’s handbag,” she whispered.

She placed a small pH๏τograph in my hand.

It showed Veronica standing beside a man outside a private club three weeks before my accident.

The man was Anthony.

That part didn’t surprise me.

What made my stomach тιԍнтen was the person standing behind them.

My father.

The man whose funeral I had attended two years earlier.

On the back of the pH๏τograph, someone had written six words:

He never died. Ask him about Friday.

I stared at the image.

For the first time that night, I had no answer.

Because if my father was alive, then the conspiracy against me had begun long before the crash.

And Friday morning was no longer just a fight for my company.

It was the day I would discover who had been controlling my family from the shadows all along.

End of Part 2.