Chapter 12
I removed Lucia from household access before noon.
Not from the family.
Not yet.
From access.
No keys.
No staff authority.
No medical decisions.
No screening calls.
No captain meetings in my name.
The effect was immediate.
People appeared.
A cook who had been told I hated seeing staff.
Two guards who had tried to report concerns after the attack.
A physical therapist I thought had quit after one week.
She had not quit.
Lucia dismissed her.
“Why?”
The therapist looked uncomfortable.
“I said your medication timing seemed inconsistent.”
Of course.
June stood beside Edwin while each person spoke.
She became quieter with every story.
At one point I asked what was wrong.
She hesitated.
“I almost obeyed her.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“I thought about it.”
“So?”
“If I needed this job more—”
She stopped.
I understood.
Lucia’s system did not depend on monsters.
It depended on ordinary people needing rent.
Needing references.
Needing peace.
That mattered more than calling anyone cowardly.
“You still helped.”
June shook her head.
“Because you couldn’t breathe.”
Same answer.
Still enough.
Later, Edwin came to me privately.
“Sir, there’s something else.”
I looked up.
“When you returned from the hospital, Mrs. Santoro ordered your old office closed.”
“I know.”
“She said stairs were unsafe.”
“They were.”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“But your office is on this floor.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
He continued.
“She moved your council materials upstairs anyway and redirected meetings to the east wing.”
Farther from my suite.
Closer to hers.
I almost laughed.
The wheelchair had never trapped me.
May you like
Architecture had been rearranged to make isolation feel medical.
One room at a time.
