Chapter 6 - Maya Smuggles Water To The Trapped Little Boy
As they emerged from the quiet shadows of the west wing into the blinding brilliance of the grand ballroom, the string quartet struck up a lively classical waltz.
Wealthy donors in designer gowns and bespoke tuxedos laughed softly, raising their champagne flutes beneath the massive crystal chandelier.
Jonathan released Maya’s shoulder near the service entrance, his expression returning to corporate indifference.
“Get back to work, Maya, and stay out of the family quarters for the remainder of the evening,” Jonathan instructed before turning away with Celeste.
Maya did not return to the ballroom floor. Instead, she slipped through the swinging service doors into the bustling, high-stress environment of the industrial estate kitchen.
Chefs rushed past with silver platters of miniature beef Wellingtons and smoked salmon canapés while sous-chefs barked rapid-fire instructions.
Maya grabbed a clean crystal tumbler from the rack, filling it quickly with ice-cold filtered water from the dispenser.
She grabbed a small linen napkin, wrapping it around the glass so it wouldn't draw attention as she walked past the estate manager.
“Where are you taking that water, Maya? The terrace tables already have pitchers,” the head chef snapped, not even looking up from his cutting board.
“One of the senior donors felt faint from the heat; I’m taking it to the private parlor,” Maya lied smoothly, slipping past the pantry doors without waiting for a reply.
She hurried back through the service corridors, her footsteps silent against the thick runners as she navigated toward the deserted west wing.
Her mind raced with a singular, desperate mission: she had to get water to Noah before the police arrived and breached the hidden wall.
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Every second felt like an eternity, and the distant murmur of the ballroom music only heightened the surreal tension of the midnight rescue operation.
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