Part 4: The Phone Call
Emiliano didn’t move. He couldn't. He watched the screen as Patricia, left alone in the living room, poured herself a glass of his most expensive whiskey. It was 10:00 AM.
She pulled her phone from her designer handbag and dialed a number. In the monitoring room, the head of security flipped a switch on the console, amplifying the audio feed from the hidden living room microphones.
"It's me," Patricia's voice echoed through the dark room. Her tone was smug, dripping with arrogance. "Yes, the idiot just left for Europe. We have the house to ourselves for at least four days."
Emiliano stopped breathing.
"I'm executing the plan today," she continued, taking a slow sip. "I can't stand looking at that maid's face anymore. She knows too much, and the brats cling to her like a mother. If I don't get rid of her now, Emiliano might actually start listening to her."
A pause as she listened to the person on the other end.
"Of course I have the evidence," Patricia laughed, a cold, metallic sound. "I took the diamond tennis bracelet and the sapphire earrings from his vault yesterday. I'll plant them in her locker in the staff quarters before he gets back. By the time I'm done crying on the phone to him, he'll have her arrested himself. He’s so blind with guilt over his first wife, he believes whatever I tell him."
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In the dark room, the head of security shifted his weight, glancing at Emiliano. Emiliano’s face was stone. The man who negotiated multi-million dollar mergers with ruthless efficiency had been played by a woman executing a cheap, venomous grift.
Blind, he thought. She’s right. I was completely blind.
