112

112
The sun dipped low behind the mansion’s iron gates, casting golden streaks across the driveway and the gleaming black G-Wagon parked at an angle like it owned the space, just like Beth.
She’d returned from her latest designer shopping spree no more than ten minutes ago, flinging her heels off at the entrance and barking at the maids without looking up from her French manicure.

“Get my bags from the car,” she said, brushing past them like air. “Now.”

Carolina exchanged a glance with one of the other maids, a quiet girl named Becky, then followed her out. The scent of expensive perfume still clung to the car like smoke.

Becky reached the backseat first and began collecting the beige and lavender shopping bags stacked neatly in rows.
“I’ll check the front,” Carolina murmured, circling the vehicle with casual ease.

She opened the passenger-side door and froze.

There it was.

Beth’s phone.

Resting face down on the cream leather seat beside a designer clutch and an open case of diamond sunglasses.

For a moment, Carolina stood still, the sunlight flickering against her face. Her eyes darted toward the mansion’s windows. No shadows. No voices. Just birds chirping somewhere in the distance and Becky humming softly as she gathered bags behind her.

Carolina’s pulse kicked.

She reached into her apron pocket and gripped the velvet pouch, the one she’d carried every day for almost a week now, waiting. Hoping.

She slid into the seat, heart pounding, pulled out the hacking tool, and plugged it into the charging port. Then the phone.

Click. Blue LED, blinking.

It had begun.

She glanced at the time on the dashboard: 4:26 PM.
She closed the door quietly behind her to shield herself from view and leaned against the seat, cradling the phone in her lap like it might explode.

One minute.

She tried not to breathe too loudly, tried not to imagine Beth suddenly remembering something and stomping out in heels to retrieve her precious iPhone.

Two.

The blue light blinked steadily.

From outside, she heard Becky slam the trunk shut.
“Carolina?” the girl called. “You get everything in the front?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice shaking. “Just one more bag.”

Three.

She tapped the phone lightly. It stayed dark. The hacker’s tool worked quietly, just as he’d promised.

Four minutes.

Her leg bounced in place. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck. It felt like forever.

Then the light flashed green.

Done.

Carolina’s fingers moved fast. She unplugged the tool, zipped it back in its pouch, and tucked Beth’s phone exactly where it had been, even nudging it beside the clutch as if it had never moved.

She opened the glove compartment, grabbed a random Dior bag, and stepped out of the car just as Esther walked around to meet her.

“All good?” Becky asked.
Carolina forced a calm smile. “All good.”

They walked back toward the mansion, the soft clack of their flats the only sound beneath the amber sky.

Behind her, the G-Wagon sat still and unsuspecting, a luxury beast hiding a secret.

Carolina exhaled, finally.

They had the phone.

Now all they needed was the truth.

Carolina and Becky stepped back into the mansion, arms full of designer shopping bags. The air inside was thick, still, expensive, scented faintly with amber and vanilla. Becky was saying something about how heavy the Dior bag was when—

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Beth’s stilettos.

Loud. Sharp. Fast.

Descending the stairs with a fury so vivid it nearly echoed.

The woman paused mid-step. Carolina glanced at Becky, whose brows furrowed with confusion. They hadn’t heard any calls. No instructions. Just the noise of thunder made flesh: Beth Rowe in rage.

Beth’s eyes locked on Carolina like heat-seeking missiles.

Without a single word of warning, she raised her hand and… smack!

The slap rang out through the marble foyer like a gunshot.

Carolina’s head turned with the force of it. The bag dropped from her hands, falling to the polished floor with a heavy thud. She held her cheek, stunned, pain blooming across her skin.

She barely had time to blink before a kick slammed into her shin.

She collapsed, her knees hitting the hard floor, palms catching her fall. Her heart raced, thundering so loud she couldn’t even hear Becky’s gasp behind her.

Beth towered above her, breathing hard.
“How dare you,” she spat, her voice sharp and trembling with fury. “How dare you try to convert what is not yours!”

Her eyes were wild. Her lips curled into something between a snarl and a smile.
“You thief. You whore. You shameless bitch.”

Then she turned and shouted toward the hallway.
“SOPHIE!”

The older head maid hurried out from the corridor, alarmed. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Where did you employ this bitch from?” Beth shouted, pointing down at Carolina like she was trash. “Don’t you investigate people before hiring them?”

Carolina’s entire body buzzed. Her cheek throbbed. Her knees burned. But worse—worse—was the cold pit forming in her stomach.

Did she find out?
Had Beth caught her?
Had someone exposed her?

Sophie, flustered, glanced between them. “Ma’am, she worked with the LeClercs in New Jersey for two years. Her reference was excellent. She’s quiet. Does her work. Did she did something happen?”

Beth let out a dark, mocking laugh.
“She did everything wrong,” she hissed. “This bitch tried to seduce my husband.”

Carolina gasped. “What?”

“And she stole my diamond necklace, the white-gold Cartier one from the Venice trip. Gone.”

Carolina’s eyes shot open. Her chest heaved. Her mind screamed in silent disbelief.

What?

No. No. No.

This wasn’t about the hacking.

This was about him.

The fake Kingsley.

Jordan Ellis.

He had set her up.

Her eyes blurred for a second, her head swimming with shock.

Why?

Because she pushed him away?
Because she dared to say no?
Because she told him she loved someone else?

Sophie’s voice cut through the fog, stern now, disappointed.
“I told you, day one,” she said, stepping forward, “I told you I don’t want to regret hiring you.”

“I didn’t do it!” Carolina snapped, her voice cracking. “Ma’am, I swear, I haven’t seduced anyone. I haven’t even spoken more than necessary to your husband. And I did not steal your necklace.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you saying my husband is lying?” she growled. “You common maid.”

She leaned down, inches from Carolina’s face. “I will make sure you regret ever setting foot in this house. I know your type. Pretty face. Quiet attitude. Acting humble while creeping into beds. You thought I wouldn’t know?”

Carolina’s hands trembled on the floor.

Sophie turned toward the other maids. “Everyone, with me. We’re going to search her room. Every drawer. Every bag. Every piece of clothing.”

Beth stood tall again and barked, “And when we find my necklace, I’ll press charges.”

Carolina’s chest tightened like a vice. She wanted to cry. Scream. Run. But she didn’t.

She wiped the blood from her bitten lip, forced her legs beneath her, and stood tall, even though her knees trembled.

The door to Carolina’s small room slammed open as Beth stormed in first, her fury leading the charge. Behind her, Sophie and two other maids followed reluctantly, their eyes darting between each other and the trembling woman who now stood defensively by her bed.

Carolina’s palms were still slick with sweat. Her face stung from the slap, and the pounding of her heart made the room feel like it was spinning. But she tried to stay calm. Tried.

Beth gestured wildly. “Search everything. Tear it apart if you have to.”

The maids hesitated, but Sophie nodded, and that was enough. One moved toward the closet. Another began opening drawers. Carolina wanted to stop them, to scream at them to wait, to believe her, but she couldn’t even breathe right.

She could only watch.

And then…

“Ma’am?” Becky’s voice was soft and stunned.

She held up something small, glittering, and unmistakably expensive.

The necklace.

The Cartier diamond piece sparkled against her latex gloves like it had been waiting to damn her.

Carolina’s heart stopped.

Beth’s face lit up with malicious satisfaction.
“There.” She stalked forward, snatching it from Becky’s hands. “My necklace. In your drawer.”

“No—no, wait—” Carolina stepped forward, her voice cracking. “That’s not what you think. He…he gave it to me. Sir Kingsley. He handed me the box himself. He said I reminded him of a diamond. He was trying to seduce me!”

Beth’s face twisted into something terrifying.
“You expect me to believe that?” she shrieked, stepping up so close to Carolina their noses nearly touched. “My husband, who barely even looks at you, gave you this necklace? Are you hallucinating?”

Carolina’s voice shook, but she spoke with all the desperation of truth.
“He said he didn’t love you. That he wanted to be with me. He said I was beautiful. He tried to touch me. I told him no.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

And then—

“How dare you!” Beth’s hand flew again, but Sophie caught her wrist mid-air.

Beth turned, eyes blazing. “You lying, disgusting thing. Do you think you can just sleep your way into my family? Frame my husband because you got caught?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Shut up!” Beth screamed. “You’re fired, and I’m pressing charges. I do not tolerate thieves in my house!”

She turned, frantically searching her pockets.

Her expression shifted.

“My phone. Where’s my… damn it, I left it in the car.”

She spun around.
“Becky! Go get my phone. Hurry.”

Becky nodded and rushed out.

Carolina stood frozen, heart lodged somewhere between her ribs and her throat. Her eyes flicked to Sophie, hoping for one ally, one pause for reason. But Sophie only looked away.

Ten minutes later, the police arrived.

Beth met them at the door, dramatic, retelling her version of the events like she’d been rehearsing it her whole life.

Carolina didn’t resist when the officers approached. She was too shocked. Too betrayed. They cuffed her gently—one of them even whispered an apology—but it didn’t matter.

The hallway blurred.

Her ears rang.

But just before they passed the grand staircase—

She looked up.

And there he was.

Kingsley.

Standing on the mezzanine in a crisp tailored shirt, sipping a glass of whiskey. Smiling.

A dark, knowing smile.

He had set her up.

He wanted her gone.

And now he’d made sure of it.

Carolina’s knees nearly gave out, but she straightened herself.

One thought kept her steady as the police led her outside:

She had successfully retrieved the phone data.

Now all they needed was the truth.