Everyone Thought the Millionaire Was Paralyzed—Until He Stood Up at His Own Banquet and Exposed the Woman Who Betrayed Him!

For years Julian had kept his father's voicemail saved, the one where Victor scolded him for forgetting lunch and ended with a clumsy "love you, kid." He listened to it on birthdays. Hearing the living voice now felt crueler than hearing the recording. Victor had been somewhere in the world while Julian mourned him, and every holiday had passed without a call.

Maya answered while Julian sat on the carpet, breathing through the pain.

Victor Whitmore appeared on screen, older than the man in every portrait, with a bruise along his jaw. The camera shook slightly.

"Julian?"

Julian's face crumpled. "Dad?"

Neither spoke for several seconds.

"I saw them bury you," Julian finally said.

"I know."

"You let me believe you were dead."

Victor lowered his eyes. "I was trying to keep you alive."

"You don't get to call that love without explaining it."

A noise sounded behind Victor. He turned, frightened.

"Listen carefully," he said. "The crash was staged, but the men who arranged it weren't working for Vivian. Not at first. Graham has been stealing from the pension trust. He needed my signature to move the money. When I refused, he found another way."

"Why didn't you go to the authorities?" Maya demanded.

"I did. The evidence vanished. One federal investigator went missing."

Julian leaned toward the screen. "What does this have to do with my legs?"

Victor swallowed. "They used your condition to put Graham in charge. I never knew they'd keep you sick. When I learned, I tried to leave."

A door slammed on Victor's end.

"Where are you?" Julian asked.

"Don't come to the greenhouse. Go to the old ferry terminal. Locker forty-one. The code is your mother's birthday."

"Dad, wait—"

Victor's camera tilted. A man's voice barked, "Who are you talking to?"

For one instant, another face appeared behind him.