Chapter 6 - The Investigation
The next morning, Detective Miller walked into my hospital room. He was a tired-looking man with a rumpled suit and sharp, observant eyes. He carried a notepad and a plastic evidence bag containing the twisted remnants of my wheelchair brakes.
"Miss Maya," he said softly, taking a seat beside my bed. "I'm glad to see you awake. I know you've been through a trauma, but I need to ask you about the fall. Your sister and her fiancé claim your brakes gave out while they were trying to help you down the stairs. Does that align with your memory?"
I took a deep, shaky breath, letting a single tear slip down my cheek. "Detective... my brakes didn't fail. They were meticulously maintained. I check them every morning because they are my only lifeline."
Miller leaned forward, his pen hovering over the paper. "Are you saying someone tampered with them?"
"I'm saying someone pushed me," I replied, my voice steadying. "And I'm saying you shouldn't look at the wheelchair. You should look at Evan Hartwell's financial records from yesterday afternoon. Specifically, an assumption of debt he signed two weeks ago, and a massive life insurance policy my sister took out on me last month."
Miller's eyebrows shot up. "Life insurance?"
"Two million dollars," I confirmed. "Payable to Vanessa. Check the signatures. Then check the security cameras from the alleyway behind my apartment three months ago, the day my legs were broken. I told the police it was a random mugging. It wasn't. It was loan sharks collecting Vanessa's debt. A debt I just legally transferred to Evan."
The detective stopped writing. He looked at me, truly looked at me, realizing he wasn't dealing with a victim, but a woman who had orchestrated a masterclass in survival.
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"I'll be right back," Miller said, standing up. "Don't go anywhere."
"I'm in a wheelchair, Detective," I said dryly. "I'm exactly where I need to be."
