The Blind Wife Sees Everything

Try Not to Cause Trouble

Aria Vance's POV

I collapsed at 3:17 AM.

The asthma attack hit me like a truck. My chest seized. My lungs burned. I couldn't breathe.

I had planned it perfectly.

I pressed the call button. My fingers were shaking. My vision was going dark at the edges.

Julian's footsteps thundered down the hallway. He threw open the door.

"What now?"

I couldn't answer. I was gasping. Choking. My throat was closing.

He stood there. Watched me struggle. Didn't move a muscle.

The paramedics arrived six minutes later. They strapped an oxygen mask over my face. Lifted me onto a stretcher.

Julian followed us to the hospital. He didn't hold my hand. He didn't speak to me. He just stood in the corner of the ER, tapping his foot, staring at his watch.

The doctor examined me. Listened to my lungs. Checked my oxygen levels.

"Mrs. Sterling has acute bronchial inflammation. We need to admit her for observation."

Julian stepped forward. "How long?"

"At least 48 hours."

"Absolutely not." His voice was cold. Sharp. "I have a multi-billion dollar deal closing tomorrow. I need her to sign documents."

The doctor's face went pale. "Sir, your wife's condition is serious. The toxins in her system—"

"Toxins?" Julian's eyes narrowed. "What toxins?"

I felt my blood run cold. He knew. He knew exactly what was in my system. He was the one putting it there.

The doctor hesitated. "I mean... the inflammation. Her lungs are inflamed."

Julian stared at him. Then at me.

I lay there. Oxygen hissing into my face. Eyes closed behind my sunglasses. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"Fine." Julian's voice was flat. "Keep her for 48 hours. But I'm not staying."

He walked to my bedside. Didn't touch me. Didn't lean down. Didn't whisper a word of comfort.

"Try not to cause any more trouble," he said. "I have real work to do."

Then he turned. Walked out. The door slammed shut behind him.

I lay there. Staring at the closed door. The oxygen mask fogged up with each breath.

I felt the rage building. Hot. Burning. Unstoppable.

He didn't care if I lived. He didn't care if I died. He only cared about the signatures.

I waited until the nurse finished checking my vitals. Waited until the door clicked shut again.

Then I pulled out my encrypted phone.

The FBI secure line connected immediately.

"Authorization code Vance-Delta-7," I whispered. "Initiate Protocol Account Lockdown. Full termination of all Sterling proxy access."

A pause. Then: "Confirmed. Processing now. Estimated completion: 30 seconds."

I counted each second. My fingers gripping the phone. My heart pounding.

Thirty seconds later, my phone buzzed.

"All Vance-controlled accounts have been locked. Sterling proxy access revoked. Total assets secured: $4.2 billion. Accounts now under exclusive FBI protection. Authorized signatory: Dr. Aria Vance only."

I read the message three times.

I felt something cold spread through my chest. Pure satisfaction.

I put the phone away. Closed my eyes. Let the oxygen fill my lungs.

Two hours later, I heard it.

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Desperate.

Julian burst through the door. His face was pale. His hands were shaking. His phone was pressed to his ear.

"What do you mean I can't access the accounts?" His voice was cracking. "I am the CEO of Sterling Pharmaceuticals!"

I kept my breathing steady. My face blank. My body still.

He hung up. Stared at me. His eyes were wild.

"What did you do?"

I blinked. Innocent. Confused. "Do what, Julian?"

"The Swiss bank just locked me out of the Vance accounts. They said the accounts are under federal protection. That I don't have sufficient authority."

I tilted my head. "That's strange."

"Strange?" His voice rose. He was almost screaming. "That's four billion dollars, Aria! Four billion!"

"I'm sure it's a mistake." My voice was soft. Helpless. "Maybe you should call them back."

He stared at me. His eyes searching mine. Looking for any sign of deception.

I gave him nothing. Just the blank face of a blind woman. Helpless. Pathetic. Dependent.

He turned. Paced the room. His phone pressed against his ear again.

I watched him. The way his hands trembled. The way his voice cracked when he spoke.

"Listen to me," he said into the phone. "I am Julian Sterling. I have full authority over those accounts. I am the trustee."

A pause. His face went pale. White as the hospital sheets.

"What do you mean I don't have sufficient authority?"

Another pause. His hand gripping the phone so hard his knuckles were bone-white.

"Who has the authority then?"

I watched him. Watched the realization hit him like a freight train.

"The account is protected by the FBI," he repeated slowly. "And the authorized signatory is... Dr. Aria Vance."

He lowered the phone. Stared at me.

The silence stretched between us. Thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

"Is something wrong, darling?" I asked. My voice was sweet. Concerned. Perfect.

He didn't answer. He just stood there. His mouth open. His eyes wide. His entire world crumbling around him.

"Julian? Are you okay?"

He took a step toward me. Then stopped. His fists clenched at his sides.

"You did this," he said. His voice was low. Shaking. "You planned this."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I adjusted my oxygen mask. "I've been in the hospital all night. I haven't touched anything."

He stared at me. His eyes burning with rage.

I smiled. Sweet. Innocent. Helpless.

"Don't worry, darling. I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. The bank will sort it out."

He didn't speak.

He just turned. Walked out. The door slammed so hard the walls shook.

I lay there. Staring at the closed door.

I felt nothing. No guilt. No pity. No regret.

Just absolute, ice-cold victory.

I picked up my phone. Typed a message to Ethan.

"Phase 1 complete. Full financial lockdown. Sterling has zero access. Countdown: 22 hours."

The reply came instantly.

"Confirmed. Extraction team on standby. You're doing beautifully."

I smiled.

I put the phone away. Closed my eyes. Let the oxygen hiss into my lungs.

I could hear Julian's voice down the hall. Screaming at someone on the phone. Begging. Pleading. Threatening.

It was beautiful.

I let myself drift. The sound of his destruction was the sweetest music I had ever heard.

He thought he was the hunter. He thought he had me trapped.

But I was the one holding the keys. I was the one pulling the strings.

And Julian Sterling had just lost everything he ever had.