TORRES ESTATE
MAIN RESIDENCE
I lay on my bed, staring at my phone with a neutral expression, and my lips were pressed into a tight line. The screen glowed faintly in the dim room, casting shadows on the walls. I'd been at it for minutes, scrolling and refreshing to confirm if my eyes were faulty, or if what I was seeing was the right thing, the annoying right thing, the dent, when a soft knock broke my focus.
The door creaked open, and Tiffany stepped in, carefully balancing a tray. She didn't look directly at me as she shut the door with her foot and made her way across the room.
I set my phone down and sat up, leaning back against the headboard as I watched her. She moved quietly, setting the tray down on the nightstand and rearranging the alarm clock to make room. She poured tea from the glass kettle into the cup steadily, and then left it to slid the coffee table from where it was standing close to the balcony to the bed. With a careful motion, she placed the tray on the table and adjusted the setup until it looked perfect, the moved the alarm back to its original position.
She grabbed the kettle again, holding it carefully as she bowed carefully, about to leave.
"Tiffany," I called her calmly.
She froze mid-step, her back straightening as she turned slightly to face me. "Yes, Miss Blakely?"
I tilted my head, studying her for a moment. "Can you hide a body?"
Her reaction was actually funny. The kettle slipped from her grasp, shattering against the hardwood floor with a loud crash. The remaining tea splattered across the floor, as she flinched to avoid the hot substance. When she realized what just happened, her hands flew to her mouth as she let out a soft gasp.
"oh my g—I—I'm so sorry!" she stammered, dropping to her knees away from the accident as she began gathering the shards with trembling hands. "I didn't mean to—please forgive me—"
"Stop," I said, too tired to even raise my voice.
She froze again, her wide eyes darting up to meet mine.
She looked scared.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees as I stared at her. "Leave it. I'll clean it up myself."
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She blinked rapidly, looking utterly bewildered.
My request must have sounded ridiculous.
"Do you hear me?" I asked, glancing at the mess and back to her. "Leave it."
She nodded slowly, still kneeling, her hands hovering over the broken pieces like she didn't know what to do with them.
I leaned back against the headboard, crossing my legs as I continued to watch her. She looked like she was caught stealing, kneeling there like a guilty child caught in the act.
"Can you keep a secret, Tiffany?" I asked, my voice dropping slightly.
Her head snapped up, her face paling as if I'd just asked her to sell her soul. She blinked at me, her lips parted but no words coming out.
"Words, Tiffy," I said, my tone bored. "I don't have all day."
"Yes," she finally whispered, her voice was barely audible. "Yes, Miss Blakely."
I picked up my phone, unlocking it with a swipe of my thumb. With a few taps, I pulled up a picture and turned the screen toward her. "This is Nancy García, The prime minister" I said. "I don't care how you do it, but I want everything the press doesn't know about her. Everything good, everything bad. What she hates, people she hates, enemies, friends, what she even have for breakfast, favorite snacks, allergy, secrets, sexuality, every single thing down to the tiniest irrelevant detail, Got it?"
Her eyes slowly grew wide as she stared at the picture, and I was sure she thought I was crazy giving a normal, servant a job for a private investigator.
But that's how everything begin, putting her to the test might be worth it. I've always had weird feelings about Tiffany, but you know, if they can't stand with you, you MAKE them stand with you. I've had issues with the previous alley rats I nderestimated, Heather was a proof of that, and I've learnt the little lesson there.
Two thing is for sure, though. They make the best workers, and turn against you the quickest.
That's where the text comes in. I mean, what's a better test than a background check on the prime minister's child.
If she came back with what I want, that'd confirm every suspicions I have.
Her expression morphed from that of confusion to fear. She nodded slowly, almost as if her body moved without her mind catching up.
"I'll forward you the picture," I continued, setting my phone down. "And a number. Her name's Tabitha. She'll help you with whatever you need."
She blinked at me again, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.
"I want to trust you, I believe you're promising, Tiffany. Don't disappoint me."
"Yes, Miss Blakely," she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly.
"One more thing," I said, motioning toward my purse on the nightstand. "Take my card and get yourself a change of clothes. I can't have you following me around looking like… that—" I paused, "Or better still, I'll have Tabitha send you some clothes" my eyes moved to her shoes. "And shoes also…shoes also"
Her mouth fell open for a split second before she quickly shut it, bowing her head. "Thank you, Miss Blakely. Thank you so much," she said, her voice starting to breaking.
I waved her off . "Bring me the cleaning set," I said dismissively. "I'll clean this up myself."
She hesitated for a moment, then stood and hurried to the door, still mumbling her gratitude.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I leaned back against the headboard, exhaling softly.
Nancy García.
Nancy García.
My phone pinged and raised it up to see another reply to her review on my site.
Nancy García.