The Chair By The Stairs
Chapter 01 - The Chair By The Stairs
Eduardo Santana hated the marble floor before he ever fell on it.
It was too polished, too reflective, too eager to show a man what he looked like from below. The foyer of the Chicago mansion had been designed to impress: tall glass front double doors, black staircase railing, white walls, soft daylight pouring through expensive glass, a console table near the entrance with a small phone sitting neatly on top. Guests usually looked up when they entered.
Eduardo had spent the last six months looking down.
Not because he was weak. He corrected anyone who used that tone. A spinal injury after a private jet runway accident had taken his legs temporarily, the doctors said. Temporarily became a word with sharp edges. It meant hope, but also humiliation scheduled in appointments. Physical therapy. Assistive equipment. Nurses who spoke too gently. Board members who watched his wheelchair before they looked at his face.
He had built Santana Global from a warehouse office and three unpaid invoices. He had survived betrayal, lawsuits, recessions, men who smiled while sharpening knives. He had not survived pity well.
The wheelchair was supposed to be beside him.
It had been there when he transferred from the chair to the foyer bench to adjust his cuff after a tense call. He remembered locking the brake. He remembered setting his phone on the console table. He remembered hearing the front doors close after Clara left to sign for Sofia’s school pickup.
Then the chair was gone.
Not far. That was the cruelty of it. Several feet behind him near the staircase, just out of reach. Close enough to see. Too far to grasp.
Eduardo stretched once, jaw tight.
The wheel did not move.
He tried again, pride making him reckless. His palm slipped against the marble. His body shifted wrong. For one suspended second, he knew exactly what was about to happen and hated the floor for waiting.
Then he hit it.
Both hands caught him hard. Pain sparked through his shoulders. His breath left him. The black wheelchair sat near the staircase like a witness.
Clara appeared from the right side of the foyer and froze.
“Eduardo.”
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.
May you like
The words were meant to protect him.
They sounded like surrender.
