The morning sun poured through the tall windows of the massive Dallas estate.
Arthur sat in his wheelchair near the center of the marble ballroom.
His wife, Victoria, stood right behind him in a deep burgundy gown.
She kept her hand lightly on his shoulder, but her grip was tight and cold.
For six long months, Arthur had stayed quiet in that wooden chair after his terrible car accident.
The doctor said his legs were weak, but Victoria insisted he remain seated at all times.
She told everyone in town that her poor husband needed rest and constant supervision.
Arthur watched the butler setting up crystal glasses on a long side table.
The sound of heavy glass clinking against silver echoed off the tall white columns.
Victoria leaned down, her dark hair brushing against his ear.
She whispered that the guests would arrive in less than ten minutes for the annual charity gala.
Arthur did not reply to her words.
He simply stared at the large framed American flag on the far wall.
He had built his entire oil empire with his own two hands over thirty long years.
Now, his wife was managing the entire trust fund while he sat helpless.
Or at least, that was what Victoria believed as she checked her gold watch.
A young maid named Sarah walked quietly into the grand room holding a soft plaid blanket.
Sarah had only worked at the estate for three weeks, but she was always gentle.
Unlike Victoria, Sarah spoke to Arthur with genuine respect and warmth every single morning.
She knelt down beside the heavy wheelchair on the cold marble floor.
Sarah tucked the edges of the blanket around his knees so he would not feel the draft.
Victoria glared at the young maid from above.
She told Sarah to finish her work quickly and get back to the kitchen before people arrived.
Sarah ignored the sharp tone in Victoria's voice and looked up at Arthur's face.
She noticed his fingers twitching slightly against the leather armrests.
Arthur gave the maid a faint nod, signaling that he was ready for what was about to happen.