Chapter 3 - Shadows on the Tape
The study was lined with rare leather-bound books and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking manicured private acres. Alice stood by the window while Admila sat behind his massive desk. Security Chief Vance plugged an encrypted drive into the console, projecting the grand foyer’s high-definition feed onto the wall.
The footage rolled without sound.
There was Annabelle, visibly screaming at Alice. There was the raised palm cutting through the air. And there was Alice’s lightning-fast reflex, catching the wrist cleanly, without malice, without aggression—purely defensive. Then the footage showed Annabelle trying a second time, only to be stopped once more before storming away in fury.
Admila leaned back in his leather chair. The silence in the room stretched until the air felt brittle.
“She lied,” Admila stated flatly.
“Sir,” Vance said quietly, “what should we do with the girl?”
Admila didn't answer immediately. His fingers were closed tightly around the silver locket he had scooped from the foyer floor. He turned it over, thumb tracing an intricate vine pattern worn smooth by age.
“Leave us, Vance,” Admila commanded.
Once the heavy door clicked shut, Admila placed the locket onto the mahogany desk between them.
“Where did you get this?”
Alice’s breath hitched. She instinctively reached out, but checked herself. “It belongs to my grandmother, sir. It’s the only valuable thing she owns. She gave it to me before I took the bus here for luck.”
“Your grandmother’s name.”
“Evelyn. Evelyn Carter.”
Admila’s face turned gray. The stoic titan of industry looked suddenly hollowed out, staring at the delicate silver piece as if it were a burning coal.
“Twenty-one years,” he whispered under his breath.
“Sir?” Alice asked, unease creeping into her spine.
Before Admila could respond, the study door swung open without a knock. Victoria barged in, followed by a sleek, sharp-eyed man in an Italian suit—Julian Sterling, the family’s corporate counsel and Victoria’s longtime confidant.
“Admila, this farce has gone far enough,” Victoria snapped. “Failing to punish a servant who defied your own flesh and blood makes us look weak. If the press catches wind that staff are laying hands on Annabelle, our philanthropic board positions are compromised.”
Julian adjusted his gold cufflink, offering a thin, predatory smile. “Victoria is legally prudent here, Admila. An immediate NDA, severance, and quiet dismissal protects the family image. I’ve already drafted the release.”
Admila slowly slid the locket into his vest pocket, his demeanor hardening back into stone.
“Alice is not leaving,” Admila said.
Victoria froze. “What did you say?”
“She is not fired. Starting tomorrow, she will no longer be part of the general cleaning staff. She will serve as my private administrative assistant in the residential wing.”
Annabelle, who had crept to the doorway to listen, let out a furious scream. “Dad! Are you insane? You're promoting the girl who attacked me?”
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“You brought this embarrassment upon yourself with your conduct,” Admila barked, rising to his feet with an authority that shook the room. “Now get out of my sight. All of you.”
As Victoria dragged her daughter away, she cast a venomous glance back at Alice—a look that promised total ruin.
