Chapter 4 - The Truth Unmasked
Vincent tapped the screen.
The audio filled the elegant morning room, clear, crisp, and horrifying. The crystal ceiling of the conservatory appeared on screen, and then Clarissa’s voice rang out: “Hold her still.”
Andrew gasped, his body going rigid as he watched the two junior maids hold a silent, stoic Lily. The camera captured every detail—the flash of the scissors, the cold, bored expression on Clarissa’s face, and the agonizing sound of the blades.
“Poor girls don’t get to keep things that make them look important,” Clarissa’s recorded voice sneered. “Now, you look like what you are.”
The video played on, showing Clarissa laughing as Lily dropped to her knees to gather her ruined hair from the floor.
Eleanor Sterling stood up so fast her teacup rattled and spilled across the table. "Monstrous," she breathed, looking at Clarissa as if she were a venomous insect. "You sadistic, lying little sociopath."
"Andrew, it’s a fake! It's a deepfake generated by Moretti to ruin us!" Clarissa shrieked, grabbing Andrew’s arm. "You know how powerful the mafia is, they can manipulate anything! He wants to destroy our merger!"
Andrew looked at the screen, tears of shock and betrayal welling in his eyes. He looked at Lily’s uneven hair, then at the woman he had asked to be his wife. He slowly pulled his arm out of Clarissa’s grip.
"The timestamp on this video is from yesterday at 4:00 PM," Andrew said, his voice shaking with a dangerous, quiet anger. "I was at the country club. You told me you were spending the afternoon reading in the garden. You lied to me. You tortured a girl who has served my family faithfully since she was a teenager."
"Andrew, please!"
"Security!" Andrew roared, his voice shaking the walls. "Get this woman out of my sight. Remove her belongings from this house immediately. If she resists, call the police and hand them this footage for felony assault."
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As the estate security guards marched into the room and grabbed Clarissa by the arms, she lost all her aristocratic polish. She thrashed and screamed, looking at Lily with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You're nothing! You're just a filthy maid! You'll always be poor!"
Lily stood tall, her posture straight, watching her oppressor get dragged down the grand hallway in absolute disgrace. For the first time in seven years, Lily felt the crushing weight lift from her chest.
