He Married Me to Steal My Family’s Shipyard. My Brother Spent Fifteen Years in a Wheelchair Waiting to Prove It

I decided, in the end, that I would rather be someone who could be fooled by a man like Callum than someone capable of being him.

That decision was the day the water finally left my throat for good.

One year after the car went into the bay, Rhys and I stood together at the end of the pier, looking out over the quiet water where it had happened.

The wind off the harbor was clean and cold and smelled of salt.

He took something out of his coat pocket — the old, worn leather strap he had used, all those years, to bind his own legs still beneath the blanket on his chair, the prop that had kept him invisible and kept me alive.

He turned it over once in his hand.