He never removed it.
I began noticing other things.
Christopher hated mirrors.
He refused visitors after dark.
He woke from nightmares shouting names.
Daniel.
Marcus.
Ryan.
The first time I heard my brother’s name, I nearly dropped a glass.
Christopher pretended he hadn’t said it.
By the end of the first week, Brandon’s fever was gone.
Emma had stopped asking whether we had enough food.
I paid three months of overdue rent.
Then Christopher did something unexpected.
He asked about my children.
“What are their names?”
We were in the library.
I was organizing his medication.
“Brandon and Emma.”
“How old?”
“Eight and five.”
“Father?”
I stiffened.
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
Christopher glanced at me.
“He left when Emma was two.”
“Why?”
“Because responsibility bored him.”
Christopher looked almost offended.
“His loss.”
“Yes.”
For several seconds, silence settled between us.
Then he asked, “Brandon likes baseball?”
I stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
“You mentioned buying him a glove yesterday.”
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.”
I winced.
“I would have fired her too.”
He looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Being paralyzed doesn’t mean you want someone mourning over your shampoo.”
Christopher laughed.
A real laugh.
