Chapter 15 - The Sister's Final Hand
Z
Three weeks after the collapse of Hamilton Global’s conspiracy, the autumn leaves were falling softly across the pristine courtyard of our corporate headquarters in Dallas. Aegis Hospitality had absorbed the former assets of Legacy Events Group, expanding our workforce by thirty percent and securing exclusive long-term contracts across five major metropolitan markets.
I sat in my private office reviewing our quarterly charitable endowment funds when Sarah, my assistant, pushed open the door with a hesitant expression.
"Ellie... there’s someone downstairs in the lobby," Sarah said quietly. "She doesn't have an appointment, but she refuses to leave until she speaks with you for five minutes. It’s Camille."
I remained still for a moment, letting the name settle in the quiet room. Camille’s parole conditions required her to maintain lawful employment, but with the immediate dissolution of Legacy Events Group, her work-release status was in grave jeopardy.
"Send her up, Sarah," I said calmly. "And ask security to standby in the outer hallway."
Two minutes later, Camille walked into my office.
She looked vastly different from the glamorous bride who had pulled my chair away at the St. Regis, and equally different from the hollow prisoner I had visited at FMC Carswell. She wore a simple beige trench coat, light makeup, and her hair was pinned back in a neat, professional knot. But beneath her polished exterior, I could see the frantic, calculating energy radiating from her eyes.
"Ellie," Camille said softly, stopping near the edge of my marble desk. "Thank you for seeing me."
"You have five minutes, Camille," I said, keeping my hands folded neatly over my leather desk blotter. "Make it count."
Camille took a deep, shuddering breath, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a tissue. "I came to apologize. Truly. When Dad came to me with Hamilton’s plan, I told him it was insane. I told him we shouldn't touch your business again! But my probation officer told me that if I didn't have a job by Friday, my parole would be revoked and I'd be sent back to Carswell to finish the full thirty months!"
"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked coldly.
"Give me a job, Ellie!" Camille begged, taking a step closer and clasping her hands together in desperate supplication. "Anything! Make me a receptionist! Make me a mailroom clerk! I just need an official employment contract signed by Aegis so I don't get sent back to prison! I swear to God I won't touch a single financial document! I just want to prove to you that I can be a normal sister!"
I looked at her, searching her face for a single shred of genuine humility. But my years of analyzing financial ledgers and human deception had given me an instinct that was impossible to fool. I noticed the faint, rhythmic movement of her right coat pocket—the distinct shape of a compact digital recording device or a hidden flash drive.
She wasn't here seeking redemption. She was sending a final, desperate gambit. If I hired her, she would leak to the press that Aegis was employing a convicted fraudster, or use internal access to gather data for a civil suit against me. If I refused, she would record me rejecting her pleas to paint me as an unfeeling monster to her probation board.
A subtle, dangerous smile crept onto my face.
"You want an employment contract, Camille?" I asked smoothly.
"Yes! Please, Ellie! I'll sign anything!" she cried, her voice trembling with manufactured emotion.
I reached into my desk drawer, pulled out a standard, non-disclosure employment agreement for an entry-level logistics clerk, and slid it across the desk along with a pen.
"This is a ninety-day probationary contract," I stated clearly. "It grants you access solely to our archived public vendor registries on server network B. You will report directly to Marcus, you will receive minimum wage, and any violation of company protocol will result in immediate termination."
Camille’s eyes lit up with a flash of triumph that she tried desperately to conceal. She snatched the pen and signed her name with frantic speed.
"Thank you, Ellie! You won't regret this!" she exclaimed, grabbing her copy of the contract and slipping it into her bag.
"I know I won't," I replied softly.
The moment the heavy glass door closed behind her, I tapped the intercom button on my phone.
"Marcus?"
"I'm here, Ellie," Marcus answered instantly.
May you like
"Camille just signed the probationary contract," I said, leaning back in my leather chair. "Activate the honeypot protocol on Server B. Restrict her credentials to the dummy database containing the fake corporate acquisition files we prepared last week. Let's see how long it takes her to try and sell them."
"Understood," Marcus chuckled. "The trap is set."
