Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Predicted My Foot Would Move Knew More About My Injury Than My Doctors DidThe next morning, I called Lily into my office.
Maria arrived behind her.
She looked horrified.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Marino. She shouldn't have gone near the garden.”
I interrupted.
“She's not in trouble.”
Maria blinked.
“She isn't?”
“No.”
Lily smiled.
“I told you.”
Maria looked at her daughter.
“Lily.”
“It's okay, Mom.”
I turned toward Maria.
“Did you teach your daughter anything about neurology?”
Maria looked confused.
“No.”
“Her grandmother?”
“She wasn't a doctor.”
“What was she?”
Maria hesitated.
“A healer.”
I almost laughed.
“Meaning?”
“She knew herbs.”
“That doesn't explain this.”
Maria looked down.
“She believed the body remembers trauma.”
The phrase sounded familiar.
I had heard something similar from my first neurologist.
Then never again.
I dismissed Maria.
Lily stayed.
“Did your grandmother ever see me?”
“No.”
“Did she know my wife?”
Lily's face changed.
“Audrey?”
My entire body became still.
“How do you know my wife's name?”
She pointed toward the bookshelves.
“You have her photo.”
I turned.
There were dozens of photographs in the room.
But the framed photo of Audrey stood in the corner.
“How did you know that's my wife?”
“Because Mom cried when she saw it.”
My heart tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Audrey was nice to her.”
I stared.
“When did your mother know Audrey?”
“Before you got hurt.”
That was impossible.
Maria had only started working for me three years after Audrey died.
I stood as quickly as my wheelchair allowed.
“Lily.”
She looked at me.
“When?”
“My mom says before she worked here.”
“What did Audrey do?”
“She helped her.”
“How?”
“She helped Grandpa.”
I frowned.
“Your grandfather?”
“No. Your wife's dad.”
That made no sense.
Audrey's father had died long before our marriage.
Or so I had been told.
I asked Lily to tell me everything.
She didn't.
Instead she said:
“Your wife wasn't supposed to die.”
My blood went cold.
“Who told you that?”
“My grandma.”
“What did she say?”
“She said someone made you think Audrey was dead.”
I stared at her.
That sentence was impossible.
Audrey had died in the car accident.
I had been there.
I remembered the wreck.
I remembered the flames.
I remembered waking up in the hospital.
I remembered being told she hadn't survived.
I remembered trying to move my legs.
Nothing.
The neurologists said trauma.
Spinal damage.
Psychogenic factors.
Permanent paralysis.
But if Lily's grandmother was right—
Audrey's death might not have been what I remembered.
I searched the old records.
Everything was clean.
Too clean.
Then I found one discrepancy.
Audrey's body had been transferred to the morgue before identification was completed.
I stared.
“Why?”
Vincent looked over my shoulder.
“Boss?”
“Get me the original records.”
He did.
The signature authorizing the transfer wasn't from the hospital.
It was from a private security company.
I recognized the company.
One I had owned.
Eight years earlier.
That meant someone working for me had controlled the scene.
I looked at Lily.
She smiled.
“I told you.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Your leg remembers.”
May you like
She pointed toward my desk.
“The truth does too.”
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