Chapter 2 - The Cloud Footage
The silence in the dining room hung like heavy fog.
I kept my phone raised, my eyes locked on Victoria's. Her composure, usually immaculate and refined as a high-society heiress, was disintegrating before my eyes. Her chest heaved beneath the ivory silk dress.
"Daniel, hand me the phone," she demanded, trying to inject authority into her voice, but the tremble was obvious. "You don't understand the situation."
"I understand that you were beating a defenseless employee with a riding crop," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "And I understand that you just said I wasn't supposed to be home today."
I lowered my phone and tapped the screen, opening the custom encrypted application connected to our home security array. Three months ago, I had hired an independent cybersecurity firm to retrofit our estate with discreet, high-definition camera lenses hidden within the crown molding and light fixtures. Victoria hadn't known about the upgrade; she thought our system relied solely on the visible motion sensors near the front entry.
On the screen, a live feed icon blinked. Beside it was the cloud archive, listing footage from the past two hours.
Victoria took a swift step toward me, reaching out her hand to grab the device. "Delete it. Daniel, if you love me, you will delete it right now!"
"Stay back," I snapped, stepping back.
I knelt down beside Mia, who was still trembling on the parquet floor. Her hand was pressed against her cheek, where a angry red mark had swollen into a welt. Tears streaked her dust-stained cheeks.
"Mia," I said gently. "Can you stand?"
"I... I think so, Mr. Vance," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I offered her my hand, helping her up carefully. She leaned heavily against the edge of the mahogany dining table, avoiding all eye contact with Victoria, who was glaring at her with pure venom.
"Go to the guest quarters upstairs," I instructed Mia. "Lock the door from the inside. I'm calling a doctor."
"No!" Victoria interjected, taking a step toward Mia. "She doesn't leave this room! She has something that belongs to my family!"
"She's going upstairs, Victoria," I said, positioning my body between them. "And if you try to lay another finger on her, I will call the police directly from this room."
Victoria gasped, her jaw dropping. "You would call the police on your own fiancée? For a maid?"
"I'd call the police on anyone committing assault in my house," I replied coldly. "Mia, go."
Mia didn't wait for a second invitation. She hurried past us, her footfalls echoing up the grand staircase.
Once the door at the top of the landing closed, I turned back to Victoria. I dragged one of the heavy leather dining chairs out and sat down, laying my phone flat on the polished table between us.
"Sit," I said.
Victoria crossed her arms, standing her ground. "I will not be interrogated in my own home."
"This is my house, Victoria. My name is on the title, and my money paid for every piece of furniture in this room." I pointed to the phone screen, which was currently processing the buffered recording from thirty minutes ago. "Now, we can sit here together and watch what happened before I walked through that door, or I can forward this unedited file directly to your father and my legal team."
Victoria's stance weakened. Her eyes darted from the phone to the grand foyer windows, as if calculating her chances of escape. Slowly, her designer heels clicked against the floor as she took a seat opposite me.
I tapped the screen and pressed play.
The audio began immediately—a crisp, high-fidelity recording captured by the microphone hidden near the chandelier.
On the video, Victoria was seen pacing the dining room, holding her phone to her ear.
"Is everything ready?" Victoria’s recorded voice echoed clearly through the room. "He’s in Chicago until tomorrow afternoon. The estate is completely empty. Send the transport."
I paused the video. My eyes snapped up to meet hers.
"Chicago?" I asked, my blood running cold. "I was supposed to be in Chicago. That was the original flight plan before the tech conference got canceled."
Victoria remained silent, her hands tightly clenched in her lap.
I unpaused the tape.
On screen, Mia entered the dining room carrying a silver tray. Victoria turned, her face suddenly twisting with panic as she noticed Mia carrying a small, vintage steel box with a brass lock.
"Where did you get that?" Victoria’s voice on the tape was hysterical.
"It was behind the loose panel in the study bookshelf, ma'am," Mia’s quiet voice replied. "Mr. Vance asked me to clean behind the cabinets last week—"
Before Mia could finish her sentence, Victoria lunged, knocking the silver tray out of Mia's hands. The steel box fell onto the carpet with a heavy clatter. Victoria grabbed the riding crop from the decorative rack near the fireplace display and began striking Mia repeatedly.
"Give it to me! Give it to me, you miserable little thief!"
I pressed pause. The final frozen image on my phone screen was Victoria, face warped in raw rage, raising the black crop over Mia’s head.
I looked up at my fiancée. The woman I had spent four years loving, the woman whose ring on her finger had cost me two hundred thousand dollars.
"What is in that steel box, Victoria?" I asked softly.
May you like
Victoria looked down at her hands. When she raised her head, her fear had vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating detachment that I had never seen before.
"Something that doesn't belong to you, Daniel," she said quietly. "And something you were never supposed to find."
