Chapter 5 - Retaliation & The Trap
The basement of Sen was cold, damp, and smelled of bleach and decomposing organic waste.
Marisol stood over the industrial grease trap, scrubbing a massive aluminum stockpot with steel wool until her forearms burned. Her apron was soaked through with dirty grey water, and the skin of her hands was red and raw from the harsh commercial detergents.
The basement door slammed open at the top of the concrete stairs.
Preston Cain came marching down. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and frantic. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a firing squad, desperate to find someone else to put in front of the bullets.
"Reyes!" Cain barked, storming up to the sink.
Marisol dropped the steel wool and turned around, wiping her damp brow with the back of her wrist. "Yes, Mr. Cain?"
"You're done here," Cain said, pulling an envelope from his pocket and throwing it onto the stainless steel drainboard. "Pack your locker. You're terminated."
Marisol stared at him, her heart dropping like lead. "Terminated? On what grounds? I’ve worked eight hours straight in this freezing basement!"
"On grounds of grand larceny," Cain sneered, his voice trembling with manic desperation. "Thirty minutes ago, an audit of the private dining room cash registers revealed six thousand dollars missing. I conducted a search of employee lockers. Guess what we found stashed in your winter coat?"
He pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his jacket pocket and waved it in her face.
"You planted that!" Marisol shouted, tears of rage springing to her eyes. "You put that in my locker! I haven't left this basement since two o'clock!"
"Try telling that to the police," Cain hissed, stepping into her space, his breath smelling of stale espresso and panic. "I’m giving you one chance. You sign this confession form, resign immediately, and forfeit all accrued wages and severance. In exchange, I won't press criminal charges. If you don't sign, you'll be spending the next five years at the state correctional facility in Cranston, and your mother can find her own insulin."
Marisol stood paralyzed. The walls of the basement seemed to close in around her. She knew how the system worked against girls from Central Falls. Cain had money, lawyers, and influence; she had nothing.
"Sign it!" Cain screamed, slamming a pen onto the counter.
"Don't sign a single page, Marisol."
The clear, steady voice echoed down the concrete staircase.
Cain spun around, his face twisting with fury.
Walking down the stairs was Adeline.
She wore Dale’s clean, oversized flannel shirt tucked neatly into her jeans, but her posture was regal, her chin lifted high. In her hand, she held an iPhone, its screen glowing brightly as the red recording indicator pulsed in the upper corner.
"You!" Cain snarled, lunging toward the stairs. "How did you get in here? This is private commercial property! I’m calling the police!"
"Go ahead and call them, Preston," Adeline said calmly, not flinching as he approached. "Please call them. I’m broadcasting this entire interaction directly to an encrypted cloud server. Every word you just spoke about planting that money in Marisol’s locker is already recorded."
Cain stopped dead. His face flushed a dangerous, mottled purple. "Give me that phone, you little gutter rat!"
He reached out to violently snatch the phone from her grip.
Before his fingers could graze the glass, a massive hand closed around Cain’s wrist like an iron vise.
Bruno stepped out from the shadows of the basement landing. With a casual flick of his wrist, Bruno twisted Cain’s arm behind his back, forcing the general manager down onto his knees on the wet concrete floor with a sharp cry of agony.
"Mr. Rinaldi dislikes men who raise their hands against women," Bruno said quietly in Cain’s ear.
"Let go of me! I'm an executive!" Cain choked out, his face pressed against the damp floor. "You can't do this!"
"You're not an executive anymore, Preston," Adeline said softly, looking down at him with quiet dignity. She walked over to Marisol, putting a warm, protective arm around the trembling younger woman’s shoulders. "Are you alright?"
Marisol looked at Adeline, then at the massive bodyguard pinning Cain to the floor. "Adeline... how did you...?"
"You stood up for me when I had nothing," Adeline whispered, wiping a tear from Marisol's cheek. "Nobody fights alone on this hill anymore. Come on. Get your things. We're going upstairs."
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Bruno released Cain, who collapsed onto all fours, coughing and clutching his twisted wrist.
"Enjoy your last hour in that suit, Preston," Bruno said, tossing a clean dish towel onto Cain's back. "The boss will see you in the dining room at noon."
