Chapter 9 - The Housekeeper's Revenge
The gala was a massive public relations victory, but the legal war was still slowly strangling the Rossi corporation. Victoria’s lawyers had managed to tie up the company’s operating capital in a massive freeze order. If Dominic couldn't access the funds to pay the shipping tariffs by the end of the week, the company would default, and Victoria’s father would swoop in to buy the debt and seize control. We needed proof that her marriage claim was fraudulent, or proof of her corporate sabotage. We needed a smoking gun, and we were running out of time.
It was 2:00 AM on a Tuesday. Rain lashed against the massive glass windows of the estate. Dominic was passed out on the bed, utterly exhausted from a 36-hour negotiation with his international bankers. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Victoria was cocky. She was arrogant. People like that always made mistakes, because they thought the people beneath them were stupid. She had taken over the East Wing guest suite, placing two armed private security guards outside her door. She thought she was impenetrable.
But she forgot one crucial detail. She forgot what my job used to be.
I quietly slipped out of bed, changing into a pair of dark yoga pants and a tight black sweater. I pulled my hair back into a tight braid. I didn't need a gun, and I didn't need Elias's security team. I needed the hidden architecture of a century-old mansion.
I crept down the silent, shadowed hallways until I reached the library. I walked over to the massive mahogany bookshelves and pressed a specific wooden rosette carved into the trim. With a soft click, the bookshelf swung open on silent hinges, revealing a dark, narrow passageway. The servant corridors. They were built in the 1920s so the staff could move between the floors, clean the rooms, and stoke the fireplaces without ever being seen by the wealthy elites who lived there. They hadn't been used in fifty years, but I had found them during my first year as a maid while doing a deep clean of the historic wing.
The air inside was thick with dust and the smell of old wood. I navigated by the faint light of my phone, moving silently up the narrow stairs until I reached the panel that backed directly into the East Wing master suite's walk-in closet.
I pressed my ear against the cold plaster. I could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of Victoria’s expensive CPAP machine. She was deeply asleep. I carefully slid the hidden latch, opening the panel just a crack. I slipped into the closet, surrounded by rows of thousands of dollars of designer clothes.
I crept into the main bedroom. The two security guards were standing outside the thick oak door in the hallway, completely oblivious. Victoria's laptop was sitting on the antique writing desk, charging. Beside it was a sleek, black satellite phone.
I pulled a small USB drive from my pocket—loaded with a spyware extraction program Dominic’s tech team had designed. I plugged it into her laptop. A progress bar appeared on the screen. 20%... 40%...
Suddenly, Victoria shifted in the massive king-sized bed, groaning softly. My heart stopped. I froze, pressing myself flat against the wall, merging with the shadows. She rolled over, the silk sheets rustling loudly, and reached out blindly in the dark for her glass of water. Her hand knocked the glass, and it tipped over, spilling ice water over the nightstand and onto the floor.
Victoria swore sharply, her eyes fluttering open. She reached for the bedside lamp.
If she turned on that light, I was dead. I was trapped in the room with her, and her armed guards were five feet away.
Operating on pure instinct, I snatched the black satellite phone off the desk, yanked the USB drive out of the laptop (it read 95% complete—I prayed it was enough), and bolted back into the walk-in closet just as the bedside lamp clicked on, flooding the room with light.
"Who's there?!" Victoria shrieked.
I pulled the hidden panel shut, plunging myself back into the pitch-black servant corridor just as the heavy bedroom doors burst open and the guards rushed in.
I ran. I sprinted down the narrow, dusty stairs in the pitch dark, scraping my elbows against the rough brick, terrified that a floorboard would snap and give away my position. I didn't stop running until I burst out into the library, gasping for air, my hands shaking violently.
I looked down at the items in my hand. The USB drive and the burner phone. I had the keys to her destruction. I walked up to the master suite and shook Dominic awake.
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"Skylar? What's wrong? You're covered in dust," he said, instantly alert, sitting up.
I tossed the phone and the drive onto the bed. "I just robbed your wife," I said, a fierce, adrenaline-fueled smile spreading across my face. "Let's go destroy her."
