Chapter 2 - The Trap That Failed
Julian remained in the private monitoring alcove for several minutes after the heavy oak door clicked shut behind Abby. On the screen, the dresser sat empty of fingers, though the three hundred thousand dollars remained stacked precisely where he had left it.
He tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. “Marcus.”
“Yes, Mr. Cross?” his head of security replied instantly.
“Pull up the personnel files for today’s cleaning crew. I want everything on Abigail Mercer. Past employers, tax records, family history—everything.”
“Already on it, sir,” Marcus answered, sounding slightly surprised. “Though I should note, none of the previous thirty candidates passed the test. Are you certain she didn't pocket anything? I can send someone to check the service elevators—shes still in the building.”
“No,” Julian cut him off sharply, his gaze fixed on the playback of Abby’s face right at the moment she pulled her hand away. “She didn't take it. She walked away.”
Marcus paused. “An anomaly, sir. Should I reset the test for next week?”
“No,” Julian repeated, standing up from his chair. The sleek fabric of his bespoke charcoal suit rustled in the quiet room. “The test is over.”
Julian walked out of the alcove and down the private corridor toward the grand foyer. For eight years, he had operated under a rigid, misanthropic philosophy: Every man has a price, and desperation is just the discount rate. He used wealth as a shield and a weapon, trusting no one, least of all the people who worked inside his homes. Every housekeeper, driver, and assistant had been vetted through quiet, cruel loyalty trials designed to weed out the weak and expose the greedy.
Yet, as he reviewed the mental image of Abby’s tear-streaked face and the trembling horror in her eyes when she stared at the money, a cold realization settled into his chest.
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She hadn't just beaten his test. She had made him feel like a monster.
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