My world shattered when my fiancé abandoned me just weeks before our wedding, leading me to accept a live-in nursing role for a paralyzed billionaire, only to be stunned by a chilling discovery on my first night

I looked up from the drawer. No. You haven’t asked about the accident.

I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to. Another pause. Another surprise.

It was a ski trip, he said finally. Solo. I lost control on a ridge.

Woke up in a helicopter. Haven’t stood unaided since. I nodded.

Thank you for telling me. He stared at me for a long time. Why’d you take this job? I needed it.

Not the money. Why this job? I met his eyes. Because I’ve been lied to.

Because I know what it’s like to be thrown away. His expression changed just for a second, like a crack in a wall that shouldn’t be there. Then he turned back to the window.

Don’t get attached, he said. I don’t do gratitude. And I don’t do friendship.

Good, I replied. I don’t do illusions. He didn’t say anything after that.

But he didn’t dismiss me either. It happened on the fifth night. I wasn’t supposed to be awake.

But the wind outside had been howling since midnight, shaking the windows like some restless ghost couldn’t decide whether to come in or stay out. I got up to close the blinds and spotted the light still on in the West Wing gym, an area Ryan rarely allowed anyone into alone. At first, I ignored it.

I told myself he probably fell asleep watching TV in there. But something tugged at me. Something quiet and instinctive.

I slipped on my sweater, padded down the silent hall, and pushed the gym door open just enough to peek through. And what I saw stopped everything. Ryan Hale was standing.

Not completely. Not unaided. He was gripping a pair of parallel bars.

His arms tense with strain. Sweat dripping down his temple. His legs trembled beneath him.

Every muscle taught. But he was doing it. Slowly.

Determinately. Step by painstaking step. My breath caught.

He didn’t notice me at first. He was too focused. But the soft creak of the door gave me away.

He turned, saw me, and his expression shifted instantly from effort to rage. What the hell are you doing? He snapped. I heard something.

I thought, get out. Ryan, now. I didn’t move.

I couldn’t. Not because I was frozen, but because something in my chest had already changed. He wasn’t hopeless.

He wasn’t finished. He was hiding progress. Why? Why are you keeping this a secret? I asked softly.

His hands clenched tighter around the bars, knuckles white. Because the minute people see progress, they expect miracles. That’s not how healing works.

He laughed bitterly. No, but it’s how disappointment works. I’ve already watched people walk away once they realized I wasn’t going to magically rise out of the chair and be who I was again.

I’m not doing that again. So instead, you pretend there’s nothing left? That you’ve given up. His jaw tightened.

You don’t get it. I stepped closer. Carefully, like approaching a wounded animal.

Maybe I do. His eyes locked onto mine. Furious, uncertain.

I’m not going to tell anyone, I said. But if you let me help you, really help you, we can work towards something better. You don’t have to do this alone.

Why? he demanded. Why do you care? Because I know what it’s like to have your future ripped away and be expected to smile through the pieces. He stared at me.

Breathing hard. Sweat gleaming on his skin. I thought he’d yell again.

Order me out. Threatened to fire me. Instead, he lowered himself slowly back into the chair.

Silent, exhausted. Finally, he muttered, fine. My heart jumped…