Chapter 7 - The Sabotage
The annual Harrison Dynamics Gala was the biggest social event of the year in Boston. Held in the grand ballroom of the estate, it brought together tech moguls, politicians, and international investors.
This year, Richard planned to make a momentous announcement: the launch of the Clara Harrison Pediatric Medical Foundation, dedicated to providing free medical care for low-income children with spinal and respiratory illnesses—with Elena Lin named as the foundation's community director.
The estate was buzzing with staff, caterers, and security guards.
In his room, six-year-old Ethan was dressed in a miniature tux, sitting in his special motorized wheelchair. Maya was wearing a simple green velvet dress that Elena had sewn for her, though she stubbornly insisted on wearing her patched purple backpack over it.
“You look like a turtle,” Ethan giggled.
“Turtles carry their houses on their backs,” Maya retorted playfully. “It means I’m always ready.”
Suddenly, the door opened, and Colin Dray walked in, carrying a small silver tray with two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Good evening, kids,” Colin said, smiling thinly. “Mr. Harrison asked me to bring you a treat before the guests arrive downstairs.”
“Thanks, Colin!” Ethan reached out and took a glass, swallowing half of it in a quick gulp.
Maya looked at her glass. She noticed a faint, milky ring around the rim—a tiny residue that didn't look like pulp. Her mother had taught her never to drink anything that looked strange or smelled off.
“I’m not thirsty,” Maya said, setting her glass down on the table.
Colin’s smile stiffened slightly. “Mr. Harrison would be upset if you didn't drink your juice, Maya. It’s special.”
“I said no,” Maya repeated, staring at him.
Before Colin could press further, Ethan suddenly let out a soft groan. His eyelids became heavy, his head lolling to the side. The glass slipped from his fingers, crashing onto the carpet.
“Ethan?” Maya gasped, rushing to his side.
Ethan’s breathing became rapid and shallow. The heart monitor attached to his chair began to beep frantically: Beep-beep-beep-beep!
Colin didn't call for help. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed Ethan’s motorized wheelchair, unlocked the brake, and began pushing the boy toward the rear service elevator that led to the estate’s underground garage.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” Maya screamed, grabbing Colin’s coat sleeve. “He’s sick! Call the nurse!”
Colin backhanded Maya, sending the seven-year-old flying across the floor. She hit the wall hard, her shoulder throbbing with pain.
“Stay out of this, you brat!” Colin snarled, pushing Ethan into the elevator and jamming the door-close button. “This boy is going for a little drive, and your mother is going to take the blame for negligence!”
The elevator doors slid shut.
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Maya scrambled up from the floor, her shoulder burning, tears of anger stinging her eyes. She didn't run to the ballroom to find adults who might freeze or disbelieve her.
She ran straight to the emergency staircase, throwing her small body down the steps two at a time, determined to save Ethan again.
