I relaxed slightly.
“Yeah. He loves the Cubs.”
Christopher smiled.
“Poor kid.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It surprised us both.
That was the first crack in the wall.
Days became weeks.
I still distrusted him.
But I also began seeing the person beneath the billionaire.
Christopher had been injured in a car crash fourteen months earlier.
His spinal cord had been damaged.
Doctors told him walking again was unlikely.
Before the accident, he had controlled a business empire worth nearly four billion dollars.
Afterward, everyone around him had begun speaking softly, making decisions for him, and treating him like a tragedy.
No wonder he was angry.
One evening, while stretching his left hand, I asked, “Why did you fire the other caregivers?”
“One stole medication.”
I paused.
“Another took pictures of me while I slept.”
I looked up.
“And the third?”
“She cried every time she bathed me.”
