Chapter 2 - The Evidence
I pulled the small digital recorder from my uniform pocket.
The red light was still blinking steadily.
I pressed the playback button.
The quiet foyer filled with the sharp, crackling audio of the past hour:
"...People like you should be grateful people like me let you indoors."
"...Scrub it with your hands, you filthy old hag, or I'll make sure you never work in this city again."
"...Someone needs to wash the filth off you!"
The wet, heavy splash of the bucket echoed through the marble hall.
Daniel stood frozen, every line of his posture rigid.
For years, he had defended her.
He had excused her coldness as anxiety, her arrogance as high standards, and her dismissiveness toward our staff as a cultural boundary.
Hearing her venom raw, unedited, and directed at his own mother broke the illusion forever.
"Daniel..." Vanessa whimpered from the floor, reaching for his shoe.
"I was upset... I didn't mean it..."
Daniel looked down at her, his voice dropping to a register I had never heard from him before—cold, final, and devoid of warmth.
"Get up."
"Daniel, please—"
"I said, get up!" he bellowed, his voice echoing up into the high ceilings of the estate.
Vanessa scrambled to her feet, wiping her eyes, her facade completely shattering into bitter resentment when she realized tears would no longer work.
"You set me up!" she hissed, pointing a trembling finger at me.
"You sick, psychotic old woman!"
"You disguised yourself to trap me!"
"I didn't trap you, Vanessa," I replied, my voice steady.
May you like
"I merely stepped out of the way and let you show my son who you truly are when you think there are no consequences."
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