Chapter 4 - Shadows of Beverly Hills
Over the next two weeks, the tomb-like silence of the Reed mansion was completely shattered, replaced by the humming energy of a command center.
Sebastian didn't just wake up emotionally; he threw himself into the fight with a terrifying, brilliant intensity. He summoned top physical therapists to the mansion, transforming his private gymnasium into an intensive rehabilitation facility. For four hours every morning, I watched through the glass doors as he pushed his body to its absolute limits, gritting his teeth through agonizing physical therapy sessions to regain core stability and upper-body strength.
"He hasn't worked this hard since he was an athlete in high school," Theresa whispered to me one afternoon as we prepared lunch in the kitchen. "In twenty years, I’ve never seen him look so... alive."
"He has a reason to fight now," I said softly, slicing fresh apples for Ethan.
My role in the house had completely transformed. I was no longer dusting shelves or wringing out mops. Sebastian had formally hired me as his private executive assistant, paying me a salary that felt surreal, while ensuring Ethan had a full-time, high-end nanny right on the estate grounds.
Yet, despite the luxurious new life, tension hovered over us like a dark cloud.
Evelyn Reed and Arthur Vance were not going down without a fight.
On a rainy Thursday evening, David Chen arrived at the estate with an urgent look on his face. He joined Sebastian and me in the newly renovated glass conservatory overlooking the gardens. Ethan was asleep upstairs, and the soft patter of rain against the glass ceiling echoed around us.
"We ran into a major roadblock," David said, setting his laptop on the mahogany table. "Arthur Vance caught wind of our forensic audit. Two hours ago, he filed an emergency injunction in Los Angeles Superior Court."
Sebastian adjusted his wheelchair, his brows furrowing. "On what grounds?"
David slid a legal document across the table. "He’s claiming you are mentally incompetent, Sebastian. He alleges that your recent fever caused severe brain inflammation, leading to paranoid delusions. He’s petitioning the court to appoint Evelyn as your legal conservator."
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. "They're trying to lock him away."
"Precisely," David sighed. "And because you haven't made a public appearance or left this estate in over fifteen years, the judge is inclined to grant a temporary hearing. If Vance proves you are unfit, he takes full control of your estate, your voting rights at Reed Construction, and your medical decisions."
"When is the hearing?" Sebastian asked, his voice disturbingly calm.
"In five days," David replied. "They've leaked stories to the press already. Look at the headlines."
David turned his laptop toward us. Major news outlets were already running sensationalized stories:
"RECLUSIVE BILLIONAIRE SEBASTIAN REED SUFFERS SEVERE MENTAL BREAKDOWN"
"FAMILY SEEKS CONSERVATORSHIP AFTER HOUSEKEEPER MANIPULATES PARALYZED HEIR"
Below the articles were blurred paparazzi photos of me carrying Ethan into the estate gates two weeks ago. They painted me as a conniving gold-digger taking advantage of a sick, helpless man.
"They're trying to destroy you through me," I whispered, my hands trembling as I stared at the screen. "They're making it look like I'm leeching off you."
"Mary," Sebastian’s deep voice cut through my panic.
He reached across the table and grasped my hand tightly. His grip was strong, steady, and grounding.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
I turned my eyes to his.
"Let them say whatever they want about me," Sebastian said, his eyes burning with intense conviction. "But no one—no one—trays you or your son. Do you hear me? You saved my life. You brought sunlight back into this graveyard. I will tear down every news outlet in this city before I let them drag your name through the mud."
"Sebastian," David interrupted gently, "if we want to defeat this conservatorship petition, we can't just send medical records to the judge. The judge needs to see you. In person. At the Reed Construction annual shareholder summit this Monday."
The room fell into an absolute hush.
The annual shareholder summit was the biggest corporate event of the year for the Reed family empire. Over five hundred investors, journalists, and board members would be in attendance at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Evelyn and Arthur Vance were planning to use the event to solidify Vance’s appointment as CEO.
Sebastian stared out at the rain-soaked gardens. He hadn't been in front of a crowd in twenty years. He hadn't faced a camera, a reporter, or the judgment of the public since he was a sixteen-year-old boy lying in a hospital bed.
"It's a trap, David," I spoke up, worry gnawing at my heart. "Vance will have security there. They will try to humiliate him."
"Let them try," Sebastian whispered.
He turned his wheelchair around, looking directly at David and then at me. A slow, ruthless smile spread across his face—a smile that was no longer awkward, but sharp, dangerous, and brilliantly intelligent.
"Arthur Vance thinks I'm a broken boy hiding in the dark," Sebastian said. "He thinks I'm terrified of the world. On Monday, I'm going to walk into that ballroom and take back my father's company."
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"Walk?" David blinked. "Sebastian, you use a wheelchair."
Sebastian looked down at his legs, then up at me. "Then we’re going to buy the most advanced robotic mobility suit money can buy. I may not be able to run, David... but on Monday morning, I will stand on my own two feet."
