When she left, Alexander knew with brutal clarity that he could no longer survive just to take revenge.
He had to live for his children.
And he had to help that seven-year-old girl who, without even knowing him, had become tied to his destiny through the honesty of her mother.
The next morning, when the doctor came in to examine him, Alexander opened his eyes.
The doctor stumbled backward, nearly dropping the chart.
“Mr. Hayes—my God! Can you hear me?”
Alexander spoke in a rough, broken voice.
“I need… a phone. And no one can know yet that I remember everything.”
Within hours, he began moving pieces with the precision that had made him a millionaire—but this time not for business.
For justice.
He called the attorney he trusted most and demanded absolute discretion. He ordered an independent inspection of the vehicle, the repair shop, the maintenance records, and the parking garage surveillance. He requested call logs, bank transactions, and access to corporate emails through legal channels.
And then he asked for one more thing, his voice trembling for the first time.
“I want to see my children.”