Chapter 1 - Trust Me
“Get away from her!”
Victor Hale’s voice tore across the ballroom as Noah Bennett broke through the circle of security guards.
Crystal chandeliers trembled above hundreds of guests.
Music stopped.
Conversations died in the middle of sentences.
At the center of the blue-and-gold ballroom sat Elena Hale in a polished wheelchair, wearing a white evening gown chosen by her father.
She was seventeen years old.
Pale.
Beautiful.
And completely exhausted from being displayed like something fragile.
Noah reached her before security caught his jacket.
He dropped to one knee and wrapped both hands around hers.
Elena stared at him in terror.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
Her breathing quickened.
Across the room, Victor pushed through the crowd in a dark tailored suit, rage twisting his face.
“Noah, let go of my daughter.”
Noah did not look at him.
He kept his eyes on Elena.
“You felt your foot move yesterday.”
Her fingers tightened around his.
Victor stopped.
Only for a second.
It was enough for Noah to know he had struck the truth.
Elena shook her head violently.
“No. It was a spasm.”
“That’s what they told you.”
“My doctors said—”
“Your father’s doctors.”
Victor grabbed Noah’s shoulder.
Noah jerked free and moved closer to Elena.
Security hesitated.
The guests were watching now.
Every wealthy donor, board member, physician, and family friend Victor had invited to celebrate the launch of the Hale Foundation’s new rehabilitation program had formed a silent ring around them.
Victor could no longer remove Noah quietly.
That was why Noah had chosen the ballroom.
Elena looked toward her father.
“Dad?”
Victor’s expression softened instantly.
The rage disappeared behind practiced concern.
“Sweetheart, don’t listen to him. He doesn’t understand your condition.”
Noah leaned toward her.
“Then why is he terrified of you trying?”
Elena’s lips parted.
Victor lunged forward again.
“Security!”
Noah rose and braced his feet.
Then he reached one arm around Elena’s waist.
She panicked.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I won’t let you.”
The guards moved closer.
Victor shouted.
Vivian Hale, Elena’s mother, stood frozen near the stage with one hand covering her mouth.
Noah began lifting Elena from the wheelchair.
Her legs shook so hard the fabric of her gown trembled.
For a moment, her knees folded.
She collapsed against Noah’s chest.
A gasp moved through the ballroom.
Victor’s face filled with triumph.
“You see?” he snapped. “Put her back.”
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But Elena’s feet had already touched the marble.
And for the first time in two years, she felt the floor beneath both of them.
