Unfortunately

Skyler

My name is Skyler Tylan.

I’m sure you’ve heard of me by now. The comatose billionaire heir.

An unfortunate accident.

That’s what they’ve been calling it.

Personally, I find the description rather amusing.

There was nothing unfortunate about the timing. And I’m beginning to suspect there was very little accidental about it either.

For the past three months, my life has been a series of carefully disguised warnings. A tyre bursting on a highway. Brake failure in a vehicle that had passed inspection less than twenty-four hours earlier. A security breach at one of our private residences. Minor incidents, individually speaking. The sort of things people dismiss as bad luck.

I didn’t.

When you’re preparing to assume control of one of the largest conglomerates in the world, you learn to pay attention to details other people overlook. Especially when those details keep appearing around you.

Ty​lan Holdings was approaching a major succession announcement. The position of chairman was due to be formally announced, and I was the leading candidate. It wasn’t a secret. My qualifications, years of experience within the company and position in the family made me the obvious choice.

Unfortunately, being the obvious choice also made me the obvious target.

The incidents escalated until the day of the accident.

I remember the impact. The violent shudder of the vehicle, the sound of metal twisting, the sudden loss of control. I remember my driver fighting to keep us on the road. I remember the collision.

And I remember hearing someone speak as I struggled to remain conscious.

“It’s done, Mr. Tylan.”

Those were the words.

Not Is he alive?

Not Call an ambulance.

“It’s done, Mr. Tylan.”

I lost my driver that day. I also lost consciousness, and for the first two weeks, I was exactly what the medical reports said I was: comatose.

By the third week, however, I was awake.

Fully conscious.

Aware of my surroundings.

And, most importantly, aware that whoever had orchestrated the accident might still be watching.

It’s been approximately a month since the accident. The media believes I’m still unconscious. My family believes I’m still unconscious. My wife believes I’m still unconscious.

Only three people know otherwise: my best friend, the doctor overseeing my private medical care, and me.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make. In fact, keeping the truth from the people closest to me has been one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do.

But I had no intention of announcing my recovery only to give whoever wanted me dead another opportunity to finish the job.

I needed time.

Time to understand what had happened. Time to identify the person responsible. And, most importantly, time to determine how deeply the conspiracy had penetrated my family.

Because the words I heard at the scene of the accident left me with one particularly disturbing conclusion.

This wasn’t an attack from a business rival trying to get ahead of me.

Someone within the Tylan family wanted me dead.

And until I knew who that person was, nobody could be trusted with the truth.

Not even my wife.

Especially not my wife.