My father forced me to marry a billionaire who had been in a coma for nine months. Everyone said Ethan Thornton couldn’t hear me, couldn’t feel anything, and would never wake up. But that night, when I leaned close to the husband I never chose and whispered the truth, his finger moved—and his first words nearly stopped my heart.

I spun on my heel and slipped into the shadows of the gallery just as Jason threw the study door open. He looked down the empty hallway, his brow furrowed, before retreating back inside.

I didn't stop running until I was back in Ethan's room.

The nurse, Chloe, was gone, having completed her rounds. The room was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the French doors. I locked the door behind me and rushed to Ethan’s bedside.

"Ethan," I whispered, tears of absolute panic spilling over my cheeks. "Ethan, please. If you can hear me, you have to fight. They're poisoning you. Jason is keeping you asleep."

I took his hand. It was cold, but this time, his fingers tightened around mine with unmistakable, desperate strength.

"Claire..." his voice was a ragged whisper, his eyes cracking open, reflecting the moonlight. "The... the drawer. Under the clock."

I turned, looking at the heavy grandfather clock in the corner of the room. I rushed over, kneeling on the floor and running my fingers along the mahogany base. There was a tiny, hidden latch. I pressed it, and a secret compartment popped open.

Inside was a encrypted external hard drive and a notarized power of attorney document.

I pulled them out, my eyes widening as I scanned the legal text.

In the event of my medical incapacitation, absolute power of attorney over my personal shares and executive decisions is transferred solely to my legal spouse, effective immediately upon marriage.

Ethan hadn't been a passive victim. Before his "accident" nine months ago—which I now knew was likely an attempted murder—he had anticipated Jason's move. He had set a legal trap, waiting for a wife who could execute it.