Chapter 4 - The Maid’s Mission
The west wing of the Reyes estate was a heavily restricted zone. While Luca ruled the main house, Marcus had converted the old guest quarters of the west wing into his personal command center, complete with biometric door locks, private security patrols, and a reinforced safe built into the wall behind a massive oil painting of an Italian landscape.
That night, under the cover of a heavy rainstorm that lashed against the reinforced glass windows, Elena Harper walked down the dimly lit hallway of the west wing carrying a silver tray with a cup of chamomile tea and a plate of shortbread cookies.
She wore her standard maid’s uniform—black skirt, crisp white blouse, hair pulled back into a tight bun. To any guard patrolling the corridor, she was simply background noise, a servant delivering a late-night snack to a busy executive.
"Hold on, Elena," a gruff voice called out from the intersection of the hallway.
Marcus’s primary enforcer, a hulking brute named Viktor with a jagged scar running down his cheek, stepped out from the shadows, blocking her path to Marcus’s office.
Elena kept her face perfectly smooth, masking the wild hammering of her heart against her ribs. "Mr. Vance requested a calming tea before he reviews the shipping manifests, Viktor. He said he has a long night ahead."
Viktor narrowed his eyes, casting a suspicious glance at the tray. "He didn't order tea from me. Leave it here. I'll take it in."
"Mr. Vance is very particular about the water temperature, sir," Elena replied with a placid, submissive smile that she had perfected over years of working for arrogant men. "If I don't pour it at precisely the right minute, he sends it back, and then you get to listen to him yell about it."
Viktor grunted, his expression softening as he thought about Marcus’s notoriously foul temper when minor details were botched. He stepped aside, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine. Make it quick. The boss is on a secure satellite call and doesn't want to be disturbed."
"Thank you, Viktor," Elena said softly, stepping past him.
She approached the heavy oak double doors of Marcus’s office. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain Viktor could hear it through the wood. She balanced the tray in one hand, while her other hand—hidden beneath a folded linen napkin—slid a small, high-tech thumb drive into her palm. The drive had been given to her by Callahan an hour earlier, equipped with a bypass script designed to copy data from any active terminal in under ninety seconds.
She pushed the door open with her knee and stepped inside.
The office was dark, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of dual monitors resting on a massive mahogany desk. Marcus was pacing near the window, speaking in a low, furious whisper into an encrypted satellite phone.
"...I don't care what the federal prosecutor wants, pay him off!" Marcus hissed into the receiver. "Luca is getting paranoid. The old man stood up on his porch today. Yes, I said stood up. I want his medical files pulled again. If that neurotoxin is wearing off, we have a massive problem on our hands."
Elena froze near the door, a cold shiver running down her spine. He stood up today. Marcus’s spies were everywhere.
Marcus slammed the phone down onto its cradle, turning around sharply to find Elena standing quietly by the entrance.
"What are you doing in here?" Marcus snarled, crossing the room with predatory steps. "I told Viktor no one was to be admitted!"
"I... I brought your tea, sir," Elena said, her voice intentionally trembling just enough to sound convincingly frightened. "You left your door unlocked, and I didn't want to disturb Mr. Viktor if he was busy."
Marcus glared at the tray, his eyes suspicious. He snatched the teacup off the saucer, taking a quick sip before setting it down in disgust. "Too sweet. Get out."
"Yes, Mr. Vance. Immediately," Elena murmured, lowering her head submissively.
As she turned to walk toward the door, her foot caught slightly on the corner of the expensive Persian rug near the desk. She stumbled, dropping the silver tray with a loud, clattering crash that echoed through the room.
"Clumsy cow!" Marcus shouted, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Pick that up and get out of my sight before I have security throw you off the property!"
"I'm so sorry, sir, so sorry," Elena stammered, dropping to her knees to gather the scattered spoons and cookies.
While Marcus turned his back in disgust to look out the rain-streaked window, Elena’s hand darted beneath the edge of the mahogany desk. Her fingers found the USB port of Marcus’s primary operational terminal. With a silent, desperate prayer, she pushed Callahan’s drive into the slot.
Blink. Blink. Green light.
On the screen, a small progress bar popped up: Data Transfer: 14%... 32%... 50%...
"What's taking you so long down there?" Marcus barked over his shoulder.
"I dropped a cookie under the baseboard, sir, just trying to clean it up so the ants don't come," Elena lied smoothly, her hand sweating profusely as she watched the progress bar crawl upward. 78%... 95%... 100%.
Transfer Complete.
She yanked the drive out of the port, slipping it deep into the pocket of her apron just as Marcus spun around, his patience entirely exhausted. He grabbed her by the arm, hauling her roughly to her feet and shoving her toward the door.
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"Get out! And if you ever walk into my office uninvited again, your daughter won't have a mother to come home to!"
Elena didn't cry out. She kept her eyes lowered, hiding the blazing fury burning inside her chest, and hurried out of the west wing into the safety of the rainy night.
