Chapter 2: The False Victory
The Security Chief, a man named Henderson who had spent twenty years guarding the Palace, approached the scene with a cautious, steady gait. He didn't like the look of the scene—the excessive noise, the forced drama. He gestured for two other guards to pat down the cart.
They began pulling at the folded towels, and within seconds, a glittering, heavy necklace of diamonds fell out, landing on the marble with a cold clink.
Vanessa let out a gasp of "shocked" delight. "There! My necklace! You wretched girl, I hope you rot in a cell for this."
Maya stood trembling, her head bowed. The humiliation was total. She could feel the stares of the guests—businessmen, influencers, celebrities—all judging her based on her uniform and the socialite’s tears.
"Ma'am, we have to take her to the holding office," Henderson said, his voice clipped.
Vanessa smiled, a smirk that didn't reach her eyes. She felt the heavy weight of the insurance check finally within her grasp. She turned to leave, her head held high, expecting to be the victim of the day, the woman who had courageously fought off the "thieving help."
"Wait, Ma'am," Henderson said, his voice flat. He reached for a digital tablet clipped to his belt. "We have a strict protocol regarding theft in the lobby. We review all footage before a formal police hand-off."
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"That won't be necessary," Vanessa insisted, her smile tightening. "The evidence is right there."
"It is," Henderson agreed, tapping the screen. "But let's see how it got there."
