Chapter 6 - The Trap in the Basement
Evelyn didn't reach for a weapon. She didn't scream for security. She just stood blocking the narrow doorway, her posture rigid and completely confident, like a woman who knew the cavalry wasn't coming to save me.
"You've been taking bribes from Viktor Vance," I said, keeping my voice steady as my fingers curled around the burner phone hidden inside my coat pocket. "How long has this been going on, Evelyn? Since Meredith was living here, or did you switch loyalties after she got kicked out?"
Evelyn let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Loyalty, my dear Hannah, is something poor people talk about to make themselves feel better. In the real world, people back the winning side. And Mr. Callahan’s little empire is about to have a very hostile corporate takeover."
"You think Viktor Vance is going to reward you?" I scoffed, taking a slow step to my left to create some breathing room between us. "People like Viktor don't share power with housekeepers. You’re just disposable help to them—the exact same way they viewed me."
"At least I'll be a rich disposable help," Evelyn snapped, her mask of polite composure slipping for a fraction of a second as a flash of bitter resentment crossed her face. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to manage this entire estate for twenty years while Grant Callahan makes millions on deals he doesn't even remember? I earned every dollar Vance is paying me."
"By selling out the man who pays your salary and putting everyone in this house in danger?" I shook my head slowly. "You're not a businesswoman, Evelyn. You're just a traitor."
Before Evelyn could reply, a heavy shadow fell across the doorway behind her.
Cole Danner stepped into the basement light, his massive shoulders blocking the corridor completely, his hand resting calmly on his sidearm. Behind him stood Grant Callahan, his face carved out of dark, unforgiving granite.
Evelyn’s face went chalk white. She spun around, her eyes widening as she saw Grant standing in the doorway.
"Mr. Callahan..." she stammered, her voice suddenly losing all its venom. "I... I can explain. The girl broke into my office—she was snooping through my private files—"
"Save it, Evelyn," Grant said, his voice dropping into a cold, terrifying monotone that made the air in the room feel heavy. He looked past her at me. "Did you find what we were looking for, Hannah?"
I pulled the burner phone out of my pocket and held it up. "The latest text was sent twelve minutes ago. She’s been coordinating with Viktor Vance’s crew to slip someone through the service hatch during Friday’s food delivery."
Grant looked at Evelyn. The disappointment in his eyes wasn't personal; it was the cold calculation of a man realizing a foundational pillar of his estate had rotted from the inside out.
"Twenty years, Evelyn," Grant said quietly. "I trusted you with my home, my privacy, and my safety. And you sold it out for pocket change."
Evelyn’s knees seemed to buckle slightly. She realized there was no negotiation, no second chance, no escape. "Mr. Callahan, please—"
"Cole," Grant interrupted, turning away without another word. "Take her down to the holding room in the basement armory. Have federal prosecutor Miller briefed by sunrise. She’s going away for conspiracy and corporate espionage."
"Gladly," Cole said, stepping forward and gripping Evelyn’s arm with iron force. As she was dragged past us, her face twisted in pure hatred, she glared at me with eyes full of venom.
"You won't last a week!" she screamed down the corridor. "Viktor is coming for all of you!"
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, cutting off her shouts.
Grant stood in the small, cramped office for a long moment, looking down at the empty desk. Then he turned to me, his dark eyes softening slightly.
"You handled that well," Grant said.
May you like
"I learned from the best," I replied, sliding the burner phone across the desk toward him. "Though I wouldn't recommend using this office for sensitive files anymore."
Grant gave a faint, genuine smile—the kind that only appeared when we were alone. "Agreed. Come up to the study, Hannah. We need to talk about Friday’s delivery truck."
