Chapter 1 - The Little Black Box
I held the tiny black device up to the light for all of them to see.
Bianca took a sudden step back, her perfectly manicured hands trembling as she stared at the recorder.
"What is that?" she demanded, her voice losing its polished, arrogant edge.
I smiled calmly and pressed the small play button on the side.
The room was instantly filled with the crystal-clear sound of her own voice echoing off the expensive walls.
"It is our future, and my father deserves it more than a cleaning woman who spent her life smelling of bleach," the recording played back loudly.
Alexander’s head snapped toward his wife, his eyes wide with a mixture of pure horror and painful realization.
Ewald dropped the thick envelope of money onto the floor as if it had suddenly caught fire.
Lydia clamped a hand over her mouth, her cruel smirk completely wiped away by the undeniable truth.
"You recorded us?" Bianca shrieked, lunging forward to snatch the device from my hand.
I easily stepped out of her reach and slipped it safely back into my worn handbag.
"Forty years of cleaning offices taught me more than just how to scrub floors," I said softly but firmly.
"It taught me that people ignore the cleaning lady, and they leave all their dirty secrets out in the open."
Alexander finally found his voice, stepping away from the woman he thought he knew.
"Bianca, how could you say those awful things about my mother?" he asked, his voice breaking with betrayal.
Bianca spun around, tears of pure manipulation quickly welling in her eyes.
"Alexander, she set me up!" Bianca cried, aggressively grabbing his arm.
"She provoked me intentionally, she is trying to destroy our marriage just like I always told you!"
I shook my head at her pathetic, desperate attempt to play the victim.
"The only person destroying this marriage is the one who steals from her husband," I replied.
Ewald puffed out his chest and marched toward me, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"You listen to me, you worthless old hag," he growled, pointing a thick finger directly in my face.
"You will delete that recording right now, or I swear I will make you regret you were ever born."
I looked him dead in the eye and let out another genuine laugh.
"You cannot threaten me, Ewald," I said without an ounce of fear.
"Because that little recorder is not a storage device."
Ewald froze in his tracks, his face turning a dangerous, unhealthy shade of red.
"It is a live transmitter," I revealed to the stunned room.
"And my lawyer has been listening to every single word from his office downtown."
The blood drained completely from Bianca’s face as her phone suddenly buzzed with an urgent text message.
She looked down at the bright screen and gasped loudly.
May you like
"Alexander," she whispered, looking at my son with terrified, frantic eyes.
"The police are pulling up to the front door."
