Chapter 5: The Dismissal and the Threat
Dawn broke over the Westchester hills in a cold, grey smear of rain that turned the manicured lawns into slick sheets of mud. I had returned to the staff holding room before the first kitchen hands woke up, slipping the brass screw back into the door latch just enough to look undisturbed. At 7:00 AM sharp, the heavy oak door swung open wide, revealing not Arthur or security, but Mrs. Gable, the austere head housekeeper, holding a cardboard box containing the few personal items from my locker: my spare uniform, a hairbrush, and a framed photograph of my mother.
“The master has agreed not to press charges,” Mrs. Gable said coldly, her voice devoid of any human warmth as she shoved the cardboard box into my chest. “Provided you leave the grounds immediately and never set foot in Westchester County again. Your final week's wages have been deposited into your bank account, minus the cost of the dry cleaning for the rug you ruined.” I didn't argue. I took the box, my fingers gripping the cardboard tightly enough to crush the edges. I walked out of the staff wing and down the grand marble foyer, where the morning sunlight was just beginning to pierce through the tall leaded glass windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the quiet air.
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As I reached the massive iron front gates, a white sedan pulled up smoothly alongside the curb, and Victoria stepped out from beneath a large black umbrella. She wore a pristine cream trench coat, her blonde hair pulled back into a flawless chignon, looking as if she hadn't spent the previous night screaming hysterically by a swimming pool. She stopped a few feet away from me, her eyes sweeping over my worn jacket and cheap sneakers with undisguised contempt. She didn't raise her voice; she spoke in a low, poisonous hiss that carried easily over the sound of the morning rain.
“You think you're clever, don't you?” Victoria murmured, stepping close enough for me to catch the scent of expensive French perfume. “You think because Arthur looked at you with pity that you have a future here. Let me make something very clear to you, Elena. I run this family, I run this town, and if you ever breathe a word about what happened last night to anyone—reporter, police, or priest—I will ensure you spend the rest of your youth behind bars. You are a nobody. No one will ever believe a wet maid over a Sterling.” She turned on her heel, her umbrella tilted back as she walked back to her waiting car without waiting for an answer. I stood at the gates as the sedan sped away down the highway, clutching the burner phone in my pocket. She thought she had broken me, but as I turned toward the bus stop in the rain, I knew her very threat was the proof I needed to start digging.
