Victor's POV
The darkness of my study had become my sanctuary, or perhaps my prison. I couldn't quite tell the difference anymore.
I sat motionless in my wheelchair, staring at nothing, replaying every word of the confrontation with Emily and Dr. Griffin. The fury still simmered beneath my skin, hot and sharp, but underneath it was something worse, the terrifying possibility that Emily might have been right.
What if I could walk again?
What if five years of acceptance had been built on a foundation of cowardice rather than truth?
The thought was unbearable.
I'd spent so long constructing this version of myself...the man in the wheelchair, the broken businessman, the widower frozen in grief. Every brick of that identity had been laid with painstaking care, held together with acceptanceand bitterness. And Emily had smashed the whole damn thing to pieces in one afternoon.
A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
