Chapter 3: The Miracle on Fifth Avenue
"You think I am nothing without my legs, Victoria?" Arthur asked, a slow, dark smile finally spreading across his handsome face.
"I know you're nothing," Victoria laughed, crossing her arms proudly. "What are you going to do? Run after me?"
Arthur didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached down and calmly unbuckled the leather safety strap around his waist. He slid his feet off the footrests, placing the soles of his bespoke leather shoes flat against the cold, white marble floor.
The crowd gasped. Victoria’s laughter cut off instantly, her glass slipping from her fingers and shattering right next to Clara.
Slowly, effortlessly, Arthur shifted his weight. His powerful thigh muscles flexed beneath his suit. With absolute grace and terrifying strength, the paralyzed billionaire stood up. He rose to his full six-foot-two height, towering over his horrified fiancée like an avenging god.
"My God..." someone in the crowd whispered. "He can walk."
Victoria staggered backward, her face draining of all color until she looked like a ghost in an emerald dress. "No... no, this is impossible! The medical reports said your spine was severed!"
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"My medical reports belong to my tech company, Victoria. I own the doctors. I own the data," Arthur said, taking a slow, predatory step forward. Each heavy footstep on the marble patio sounded like a death knell for Victoria’s social status. "I needed to see who was loyal when the empire was vulnerable. And you showed me exactly who you are."
He reached down, gently grabbing Clara’s hand and lifting her up from the shattered glass, pulling her safely to his side. He used his own hands to wrap the velvet blanket around Clara's shivering shoulders, treating the servant like a queen while ignoring the socialite entirely.
