Chapter 4 - The Dinner Party AmbushThe storm outside had cleared by the end of month two, leaving behind a crisp, starry night over the Pacific Palisades. But inside the Whitmore estate, the atmosphere was about to turn explosive.
Without warning, a convoy of black town cars pulled up the private driveway.
Margaret rushed into the rehabilitation room, her face pale with panic. "Caleb... you have uninvited guests. Julian Vance just arrived with three members of the board of directors. They bypassed the security gate using emergency override keys."
Caleb's expression turned glacial. He looked at me, then down at his legs, which were currently strapped into the standing frame.
"They want to force a permanent medical retirement vote," Caleb muttered, his jaw clenching. "They think I'm permanently crippled."
"Then let's give them a show," I said calmly.
"Emily, no. If I try to stand unsupported in front of Julian right now, my knees will give out in ten seconds. It’ll humiliate me and destroy any leverage—"
"Who said anything about unsupported?" I grabbed his tailored Italian wool suit jacket off the valet rack and thrust his arms into the sleeves. "You're Caleb Whitmore. You don't hide in a back room like a wounded animal. You face them on your feet—even if I'm holding you up from behind."
Before he could argue, the double doors burst open.
Julian Vance strode in, flanked by two senior board members and a corporate attorney carrying a thick leather binder. Julian was a polished, silver-tongued serpent in an Armani suit, flashing a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
"Caleb, my dear cousin," Julian purred, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw us. His eyes flickered from Caleb standing in the mechanical frame to me standing directly behind him, gripping the stabilization harness hidden beneath his jacket. "Well, well. Playing nursemaid to a broken man, are we? And who is this charming young lady?"
Caleb didn't flinch. He raised his chin, channeling every ounce of his formidable billionaire aura.
"She’s the woman who’s about to throw you out of my house, Julian," Caleb said, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "State your business or get off my property."
Julian chuckled softly, stepping closer. "Direct as ever. But let's be realistic, cousin. The board has reviewed your medical file. Eighteen months of paralysis. The emergency proxy vote is scheduled for tomorrow morning. You’re in no condition to run Whitmore Dynamics."
"Watch me," Caleb whispered.
He looked back at me for a fraction of a second. I gave him a sharp nod.
With a silent surge of adrenaline, I applied upward torque through the hidden harness, locking his knees in place while Caleb drove every ounce of his upper body strength into straightening his torso.
To everyone in the room, it looked as though Caleb Whitmore was standing entirely on his own two feet.
Julian’s smug smile vanished instantly. Color drained from his face as he stared down at his cousin towering over him.
May you like
"You... you're standing," Julian stammered, taking an involuntary step back.
"I’m just getting started, Julian," Caleb said, taking a slow, deliberate step forward with my guidance, the sound of his shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor. "Tell the board to pack their briefcases and get out. I'll see you in the boardroom tomorrow morning—fully upright."
