Chapter 1

My husband, Derek Vance, pushed my wheelchair into Tiffany Lane's promotion meeting when I was supposed to be seeing a specialist about my legs.

On the screen ahead, my body fell from the helicopter. The footage cut to the stretcher team carrying me away, then started over.

"Attention, everyone! Take this former captain's carelessness as a warning, unless you want to end up just like her: paralyzed!"

Tiffany pointed toward my wheelchair. Several people turned to look, and I pulled the blanket higher over my knees.

"Derek, I have an appointment with Dr. Shepherd." I held up the confirmation on my phone. "We need to leave."

"You can see the doctor anytime. This is an all-hands meeting." He kept his hands on the wheelchair handles.

"If you're absent, people will think you resent the new captain. How is Tiffany supposed to lead effectively?"

I'd waited weeks for that appointment. I looked toward the door, but Derek had parked me between his chair and the wall.

"Watch closely!" Tiffany's voice boomed across the room. "One person's mistake drags down the entire team!"

I covered one ear as the recording played again. "She's lying. She cut my safety line."

"Enough, Aria." Derek leaned close. "Keep your voice down."

Her name hadn't even been on the mission roster. Derek had added her at the last minute.

"She's a rookie, but she has guts," he'd told me. "She needs real field experience. How else is she supposed to succeed you?"

I'd checked my rigging before turning toward the rescue below.

Then her voice had crackled through the comms: "Aria, why can't I take over right now?"

My safety line snapped. After the impact, I couldn't feel my legs.

In the hospital, they told me I'd lost our baby.

Derek had already signed a letter on my behalf, saying I forgave Tiffany. I'd still been in a hospital bed when he told me.

Now he was watching her onstage, smiling as she spoke.

I reached for his wrist and pulled his attention back to me. "Get the full recording. The fixed camera inside the helicopter faces the door. It'll show me checking my gear."

"The investigation's finished." He tried to turn back toward Tiffany, but I held on.

"Then let me see it. Everything before the fall. You can ask for it."

"I'm not reopening this because you don't like the outcome."

He pulled a folded letter from his jacket and set it on my lap. It was the complaint I'd submitted. Across the bottom was his reply: No further action.

I flattened the creased paper against my knee. "So I take the blame for her mistakes? What did our unborn child do wrong?"

His fingers closed around my wrist. "You couldn't even protect your own child. Have I ever blamed you?"

I stared at the fingers digging into my wrist. My eyes burned, but he kept watching me, waiting for an answer.

"Just focus on recovering," he said. "We can have another one."

I pulled my wrist free and folded the complaint into my bag. "I'll file again."

"You file one complaint, I'll block it. You're not ruining a young woman's life over one accident."

I gripped the wheels. "I'll make the truth public, Derek. I'll make Tiffany answer for what she did. And I'll leave you."

He caught the handle before I could turn. "Your mother's still in the hospital, in a coma. Who do you think pays for her care?"

My hands stopped.

I'd been beside her bed that morning, smoothing the sheet beneath her chin. She couldn't even tell me if she was cold.

"Don't threaten me with divorce," he said. "Think about what she needs."

Tiffany called his name from the stage. He glanced at her, then down at me, still holding my chair.

"Go," I said. "Don't keep her waiting."

"Aria, that's not what I meant." His hand loosened on the handle.

I shook my head. "Tiffany's waiting for you."

He went to her.

My phone vibrated against my palm before he reached the stage. It was my lawyer.

[Ms. Lockwood, are we going ahead with the divorce and the transfers for you and your mother?]

I asked him to check the property agreement Derek had signed years ago and retain the complaint records I'd sent him.

Then I asked him to formally request preservation and release of the original mission footage, including the fixed cabin camera recording.

I wiped my cheek and sent one more message.

[Proceed as planned.]