I was lying in an intensive care unit in southern Italy. I couldn’t move, I barely understood Italian, and a man in a suit walked into the room, handed me a piece of paper, and said he would look out for my interests.

I signed it out of desperation. I didn’t know exactly what I was signing.

It was 2022. I had arrived in Italy a few months earlier as a refugee from the war. At that point, I was already working for a large international company, with which I had been collaborating while still living in Ukraine.

Before moving, I had spent many years managing the development of a complex business division. I had to understand the work of a wide variety of specialists—from top managers to construction workers and furniture makers. I was used to finding solutions, asking questions, and understanding how processes worked.

On the last day of my vacation, my friends and I decided to go for a ride on scooters. The ride ended with a fall into a ravine from a height of about 30 meters.

Both legs. Both arms. Ribs. Spine. Internal organs. These were the snippets of the doctors’ conversations that I heard as I came to.

Two major surgeries and eight months of continuous hospital stays.

I barely spoke any Italian. Most of the hospital staff didn’t speak English. But even if things had been different, no one could have guaranteed my recovery.

The scariest thing wasn’t the number of fractures.

The scariest thing was not knowing who I would be from then on. Would I be able to live on my own again? Would I be able to work? Would I be able to return to my life at all?

In the first few days after the surgery, a lawyer came to see me and explained what would happen. At that time, I wasn’t in the mood for legal matters. I was trying to come to terms with a different reality: one in which my normal life might never return.

For all eight months in the hospitals, I focused on just one thing: recovery.

After I was discharged, I contacted the lawyer and asked him to send me the document I had signed. My request was denied.

I asked for an explanation of what had already been done in the case, what steps lay ahead for me, what examinations, visits, and procedures might be necessary, and how much time and resources this would require. Again, my request was denied.

I was told, “In Italy, things don’t work the way you think they do. You’ll come here for a few days, we’ll arrange a doctor’s appointment, the doctor will prepare a report, and we’ll close the case.” This response baffled me.

At that point, I had about 500 pages of medical records and countless electronic test results. It seemed obvious to me that it was impossible to properly assess the consequences of such serious injuries during a single short visit without reviewing my medical history.

I started asking questions again. And at some point, they stopped responding to me.

So I began researching the system on my own and looking for other specialists: some were willing to discuss the details only after signing a contract, while others didn’t respond at all.

I wasn’t looking for someone who would promise me a large settlement. I was looking for someone who could explain to me what was going on.

That’s how I met Vira.

She listened carefully to my story and offered to meet in person. What’s more, she offered to come to my home, since at that time I could barely move even within my own home. At our very first meeting, I received answers to questions I had been trying in vain to find answers to for many months.

About my case, my rights, and the possible outcomes.

For the first time in a long time, I felt clarity rather than empty promises.

I decided to entrust her with handling my case.

Over the next six months, she accomplished what I hadn’t been able to do in the entire nine months I spent in the hospital.

I underwent examinations by specialists in the relevant fields, received independent medical opinions, recommendations for further rehabilitation, and a clear prognosis regarding my condition. I was involved in every decision and understood what was happening at every stage of the process. As a result, I received compensation that allowed me to undergo rehabilitation and maintain my quality of life during one of the most difficult periods of my life.

It later turned out that during the previous nine months, my case had made virtually no progress. It hadn’t even been opened.

This experience changed my understanding of what support for someone after a severe injury should look like.

I realized that the problem often isn’t a lack of opportunities.

The problem is that people don’t understand the system. They don’t know their rights, what questions to ask, or how to distinguish between token assistance and real work.

That’s when the idea for Vilar Assist came about—not as a business, but as an answer to the question I asked myself after the accident: “Why is it so hard for someone in this condition to get clear information about their own situation?” Right from our first meeting, I got answers to questions I’d been trying in vain to answer.

Today, we’re growing Vilar Assist together with Vira.

She has over ten years of experience in the insurance industry and has worked at one of Italy’s largest insurance companies. She knows the system from the inside—not just its rules, but also its weaknesses, risks, and opportunities. We collaborate with a network of Italian lawyers, medical experts, and specialized professionals who help clients get an objective assessment of their situation and protect their interests.

But what matters most to me is something else.

I remember all too well the state of mind of someone lying in a hospital, not understanding what’s happening, and afraid of making the wrong decision.

Because that person was me.

If this story helps even one person avoid signing a document they don’t understand, or reminds them that they have the right to ask questions, demand explanations, and seek a second opinion, then I haven’t told it in vain.

Because after a serious injury, a person needs more than just treatment and compensation. They need clarity, information, and the ability to make informed decisions.