Chapter 3 - Carter Needed Him Alive
“The shooting was designed not to kill you.”
Owen said it slowly.
Grant’s expression didn’t change.
“Explain.”
“Carter used the Ferraro crew to arrange the ambush. They were told to disable you, not execute you.”
“My spinal injury was an accident?”
“Partly. Carter needed catastrophic injury. Paralysis was better than he expected.”
Grant’s fingers tightened against the wheelchair armrest.
“Why?”
Owen swallowed.
“Your father’s succession agreement.”
Grant knew the document.
He had never cared about the details.
His late father, Jonathan Blackwood, distrusted sudden power vacuums. After suffering a stroke fifteen years earlier, he created emergency provisions governing Blackwood Holdings.
If Grant died, the estate triggered probate oversight and a complicated succession process involving trustees, lawyers, and outside directors.
But prolonged incapacity was different.
“If I remained medically incompetent for one hundred eighty consecutive days,” Grant said slowly, “temporary operational authority went to my designated second.”
Owen nodded.
“Carter.”
There it was.
Carter could not simply murder Grant.
Death would freeze too much.
But an alive, helpless Grant?
That created a clean path.
“And the poison?”
“It suppressed neurological recovery. The original injury was serious, but the surgeons were wrong about one thing.”
Grant leaned forward.
“What?”
“You were beginning to recover.”
Silence.
Owen continued.
“Tiny motor responses appeared during the third week. Carter noticed before anyone else. He took my family three days later.”
Grant’s breathing changed.
“You’re saying I might walk?”
Owen looked him directly in the eye.
“I’m saying Carter spent six months making sure you didn’t.”
Grant closed his eyes.
He remembered phantom sensations he had dismissed.
Burning.
Twitching.
An occasional pressure beneath his heel.
Each time, Owen increased medication.
Not because Grant was worsening.
Because he was healing.
“How much permanent damage?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can we reverse it?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“I said I don’t know.”
Grant opened his eyes.
“Then we find out.”
Owen stared at him.
“You still trust me with your body?”
“No.”
That answer hurt him.
Good.
Grant continued.
“But I trust that you want your family alive more than Carter wants me crippled.”
Owen nodded slowly.
“That will have to be enough.”
Then Grant asked one final question.
“What was Carter planning to do once he had control?”
Owen looked toward the chapel doors.
“I heard him mention restructuring.”
“What kind?”
“Selling divisions. Moving money offshore. Replacing people loyal to you.”
“And me?”
Owen’s face tightened.
“Once the transfer became permanent enough to survive scrutiny…”
He couldn’t finish.
Grant did it for him.
“Then the poison kills me.”
“Yes.”
Grant looked down at his useless legs.
For six months, Carter had been waiting for him to disappear.
Instead, he was about to make the mistake of giving Grant a deadline.
Day 180 was eleven days away.
Grant smiled for the first time.
“Good.”
Owen looked confused.
May you like
“What could possibly be good?”
“Now I know exactly how long I have to learn to stand.”
