Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Living Room
Grant was standing in the foyer, tossing his car keys onto the entry table. Beside him stood a woman Mariana had seen only in photos.
Brielle Voss.
She was thirty years old, striking, with sleek blonde hair cut into an asymmetrical bob, dressed in an expensive cream-colored trousers suit that practically screamed corporate success. She carried a leather briefcase in one hand and a takeaway coffee cup in the other.
Grant froze as Mariana walked down the hallway. He quickly stepped between the two women, a sudden, nervous flicker crossing his eyes before he smoothed his expression into his usual arrogant mask.
"There you are," Grant said, his tone sharp. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"
"My phone was charging," Mariana said quietly, stopping five feet away. Her gaze moved past Grant to settle directly on Brielle.
Brielle didn't flinch. She offered Mariana a polite, condescending smile—the kind of smile a CEO gives to a janitor scrubbing the lobby floor.
"Mariana, this is Brielle Voss," Grant said smoothly, sliding a hand into his pocket. "She’s the senior financial consultant hired by Mom and Uncle Richard to manage the restructuring of Carden Logistics. She’s going to be working out of my home office for the next few days."
"It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Mariana," Brielle said, her voice dripping with sweet, practiced professionalism. "Grant has told me so much about you. He mentioned how dedicated you are to looking after his father."
He mentioned you’re a cheap maid, her eyes seemed to say.
Mariana looked at the woman who had forged her signature, stolen four million dollars, and sent Miss you already to her husband’s phone twelve hours ago.
"Welcome to our home, Miss Voss," Mariana said, her voice gentle, completely unbothered. "Can I take your jacket? Or perhaps get you some fresh coffee?"
Grant let out a subtle sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. He turned to Brielle with a smirk. "See? I told you she was hospitable. Mariana makes a fantastic lunch, too. Make us some of those chicken wraps, would you, Mariana? We have a lot of documents to go through in the study."
"Of course," Mariana said softly. "I’ll bring them right in."
Brielle smiled, stepping past Mariana down the hallway toward Grant’s private study. "Thank you so much, Mariana. You’re a lifesaver."
Mariana walked into the kitchen. She pulled out a wooden cutting board, a sharp chef's knife, and a package of chicken breasts from the refrigerator.
She set the knife down on the board.
She didn't feel angry. She didn't feel hurt. She felt the cold, thrilling surge of an investigator who had just watched the target walk directly into the kill zone.
Brielle and Grant believed they were playing a game against a broken woman who didn't know what a legal document looked like. They were bringing the forged papers, the laptop connections, and the corporate records right into her house.
They thought Brielle was the wolf in the sheep's clothing.
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They didn't realize that the house already belonged to a predator.
Mariana picked up the chef’s knife, her fingers wrapping firmly around the handle, and began to cut.
