Davis's POV
I never saw it coming.
One moment I was Davis Anderson, the guy who had it all; running Anderson Global Enterprises as its CEO with a net worth that made headlines and a life that others envied. Then out of nowhere I found myself soaring through the air as my world spiraled out of control in a way.
It was supposed to be an inspection of our latest skyscraper in downtown Manhattan. I had done it a times before, walking through the unfinished floors with my hard hat on giving orders and making last minute changes that would cost millions but in my opinion were absolutely necessary. That day seemed like any other day or so I thought.
I can still hear the sound, starting off as a creak barely audible over the construction noise. But it grew louder and more persistent, a warning I was too arrogant to heed.
"Mr. Anderson," my assistant Clementina called out, her voice carrying an edge I had never heard before. "Maybe we should…."
I brushed her off, annoyed by the interruption. "Not now, Clementina. Can't you see I'm occupied with something?
I stood on the 50th floor admiring the stunning view of the city below. It felt like my city. From up here the busy people looked small like ants going about their daily tasks while I, Davis Anderson, held the ability to influence the skyline they cherished.
The creaking grew louder.
I turned around, my face showing irritation ready to vent my frustration on the source of the noise. That's when I saw it a huge steel beam swinging uncontrollably from its anchor weighing tons at least. Time seemed to stand still as I witnessed the horror on Clementina's face her mouth forming a scream.
I watched the construction workers scramble for safety moving in a slow motion. And then there it was the beam a force of metal and energy hurtling towards me. In that moment I wasn't Davis Anderson, the billionaire extraordinaire; I was just a man fragile and mortal facing the reality that this could be my moment. My last breath. I tried to move, to dive out of the way but my body felt heavy like lead. The beam hit me with the force of a train sending me flying backward. A realization washed over me there was nothing behind me, except for emptiness.
And then I was falling.
They say that when you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes. But that's not the case. As I plummeted through the air my mind was blank, with overwhelming fear. The wind screamed past me the ground hurtled towards me and all I could think was This is it. This is how Davis Anderson's story ends.
However, it turns out death had plans for me. I crashed through something; scaffolding, I would later learn, that broke my fall just enough. I tumbled off it like a rag doll my body contorting in ways it was never meant to before crashing into the ground with a bone shattering impact.
Pain. Intense, all-consuming pain. It coursed through every fiber of my being setting my nerves ablaze. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I attempted to move but my body stubbornly refused to obey.
As my vision began to fade into darkness I started to grasp the chaos surrounding me; people were yelling and rushing about. I saw Clementina's face hovering above me, pale and streaked with tears. Her lips were moving but I couldn't make out the words.
Then mercifully, everything went black.
****
I found my mind wandering between consciousness and oblivion enveloped in a haze of pain and confusion. Snippets of conversations passed by disembodied voices discussing my fate as if I were unseen.
"Severe spinal cord injury."
"…. may never walk again."
"…...lucky to be alive."
Lucky? I felt like bursting into laughter or maybe letting out a scream. But I couldn't do either. I found myself trapped in my body, a prisoner of flesh and bone that no longer followed my commands.
It wasn't until I regained consciousness that the harsh reality hit me, like a punch. I was lying in a room, the smell of antiseptic stinging my nose as machines beeped around me, a reminder of my existence. But it didn't feel that way.
I tried to sit up and look around but my body stubbornly refused to cooperate. Panic washed over me when I realized I couldn't feel anything, below my waist. I opened my mouth to call for help but all that came out was a croak.
"Mr. Anderson?" A nurse appeared beside me, wearing a look of concern. "Try not to move. You've been in an accident."
An accident. Such a simple word for something that had completely disrupted my life.
"What. happened?" I managed to rasp out.
The nurse softened her expression. "You fell down from a height, Mr. Anderson. You're quite lucky to be alive."
That word again fortunate. I didn't feel fortunate at all. I felt broken, helpless and overwhelmed by fear.
"I can't move," I managed to say as panic surged in my throat. "I'll get the doctor," the nurse replied hurrying out of the room.
Left alone I stared at the ceiling trying to process what had just occurred. Here I was, Davis Anderson the man who built an empire with his hands and reached the pinnacle of the business world through sheer determination lying in a hospital bed unable to even scratch my own nose.
The doctor entered a serious looking man with hair and eyes that bore the weight of years of suffering in his profession. He spoke in a calm measured tone devoid of emotion as he outlined the extent of my injuries. Paralysis from the waist down. Months, maybe years of rehabilitation ahead.
I stood there in silence as his words washed over me like a wave. This had to be some kind of cruel joke.
It was hard for me to believe that this was happening. Not to someone like me. I was Davis Anderson. Injury and disability were things that happened to others not me.
I was invincible.
Wasn't I?
As the doctor continued to speak, outlining treatment plans and long-term care options, a new emotion began to bubble up inside me. Anger. White-hot, all-consuming anger.
"Get out," I growled, cutting the doctor off midsentence.
He blinked, taken aback. "Mr. Anderson, I understand this is a lot to process, but…"
"I said, get out!" I roared, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. "All of you, get out!"
The doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse, then nodded. "We'll give you some time to absorb this. Remember, Mr. Anderson, you're not alone in this journey."
As if this was some kind of adventure, and not the complete destruction of everything I'd ever known.
As I sat there, tears streamed down my cheeks and the heaviness of despair washed over me. It was a moment of weakness that I had kept hidden away for so long. I curled up on the bed clutching my knees to my chest seeking comfort amidst the turmoil.
Memories of carefree days flooded my thoughts reminding me of a time when life was uncomplicated and worries were minimal. A muffled sob escaped me as I longed for the innocence of childhood that now felt so far away. In that moment all I could do was let the tears flow and allow myself to experience the ache of it all.
I cried.
Great heaving sobs shook my body or at least the parts that still felt something. I wept for the life I once had that was stolen from me for the future that slipped away. I cried out of fear, a fear deeper than I had ever known.
I stayed there crying for what felt like an eternity. The tears streamed down my face endlessly. It was as if time had lost all significance. Eventually exhaustion took over and I fell into a restless sleep.
When I stirred again the room was dimly lit, except for the gentle glow of the life support machines. Initially confusion washed over me; where was I? Why did I feel so strange? Then memories flooded back and the weight of my new reality settled upon me like a heavy blanket.
In that darkness I lay with thoughts racing through my mind. How could this have happened? What would happen to my business, my legacy? And more urgently what would happen to me?
I had always taken pride in my self-sufficiency, in never needing assistance from anyone. Now I couldn't even use the bathroom without help – the mere thought made me feel nauseous.
As these thoughts raced through my mind the atmosphere in my room took a turn. It felt like a presence had entered the space. At first I brushed it off as a shadow or an illusion created by the light. But as my sight sharpened I was hit with a wave of fear that someone was sitting in the chair beside my bed. "Hello?" I croaked sounding as rough as before.
"Who's there?" The figure leaned in revealing features. It was Clementina, my trusted assistant for years. She looked tired her usually polished appearance disheveled with circles under her eyes.
"Mr. Anderson," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're awake." I felt an impulse to snap at her to tell her to give me space. However, something in her voice and the genuine concern I saw in her eyes held me back. "How long have you been here?" I asked instead. "Since they brought you in," she replied. "I. I couldn't leave. I kept thinking if I stepped away even for a moment." Her voice trailed off but I understood. She was scared I might not survive if she wasn't there to watch over me. That realization hit me, in the chest.
I hesitated before talking to Clementina unsure of how to phrase my thoughts. Should I express gratitude apologize or confess my concerns? Just as I was about to proceed a commotion broke out in the hallway accompanied by voices and hurried footsteps. Clementina stood up to investigate the door.
What's happening? I asked feeling frustrated at not being able to see it myself.
Clementina's complexion paled as she turned back to me. "Mr. Anderson," she said, her voice trembling. "There are some gentlemen here who claim to be from the board of directors. They want to speak with you immediately."
A chill ran down my spine. The board, of course. They would be interested in how this situation would affect the company and my position as CEO.
As Clementina stepped aside to admit a few serious looking men in suits I felt a sense of dread wash over me. The struggle was far from over. My battle had just begun.
The person approaching my bedside was Harrison Wells, the chairman of the board. He had a mask of concern on his face but I could sense the calculating glint in his eyes. It was evident that his presence wasn't driven by genuine compassion for me. He was there to evaluate the situation not out of concern for my well-being but for the interests of the company.
"Davis," he said, in a tone that was carefully measured. "We rushed here as soon as we heard. How are you feeling?"
I opened my mouth to reply but before I could utter a word Harrison continued, "We need to discuss the future and the direction forward for Anderson Global Enterprises. Given your current state the board believes it's time to consider options for leadership.
And there it was. Less than a day after my accident they were already circling like vultures, eager to dismantle my empire.
Lying there unable to move surrounded by men who were drooling at the thought of seizing the one thing I had left, my company I realized that my life, as I knew it was truly over.
The question was what would rise from its ashes?