Chapter 4 - The Desperate Trap—A Poisoned Olive Branch and a Hidden Camera!
Two weeks had passed since the night of the benefit, and the public downfall of Helen and Victoria Anderson was the talk of every high-society tabloid in the country. Forced to live in a cramped, two-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city, Victoria was losing her mind.
"I can't live like this!" Victoria threw a cheap plastic plate against the wall. "The water smells like rust! People are recognizing me at the grocery store! We have to do something, Mom! We have to destroy her!"
Helen sat at the small kitchen table, her eyes narrowed. The panic of the first week had turned into a cold, desperate cunning. "Maya wants to play the righteous savior. But she forgot one thing: in this world, reputation is everything. If we can't beat her in court, we will beat her in the court of public opinion."
The next morning, Maya received an unexpected email. It was from Helen, written in a tone of deep, seemingly genuine repentance.
“Maya, my sweet daughter. I have spent the last two weeks reflecting on my actions. I realize now how much pain I caused you by favoring Victoria. I don’t care about the money or the houses anymore. I just want my daughter back. Please, meet me at the old family teahouse tomorrow afternoon. Just the two of us. Let me apologize properly.”
Maya stared at the screen, her expression unreadable.
"It's a trap, Ms. Anderson," Mr. Harrison warned, standing beside her desk in the high-rise corporate office. "Our security team has monitored their communications. Victoria has been in contact with a tabloid journalist known for running smear campaigns. They plan to record you."
"I know," Maya said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her lips. "They want to catch me being cold, arrogant, and refusing to forgive my tearful, repentant mother. They want to paint me as a ruthless tyrant who threw her own family onto the streets."
"Shall I cancel the meeting?"
"No," Maya stood up, smoothing her tailored suit. "Prepare the cameras. We are going to give them exactly what they want—and then we are going to show the world the raw, unedited footage."
When Maya walked into the private room of the teahouse the next day, Helen was already sitting there. Her eyes were red, her clothes purposely simple, looking the picture of a broken, grieving mother.
"Maya!" Helen cried softly, reaching out to touch Maya's hand as soon as she sat down. "Thank you for coming. I have been crying myself to sleep every night thinking about how I treated you..."
But as Maya looked at her mother, she noticed the slight, unnatural angle of the vase of flowers on the table—the classic hiding spot for a pinhole camera.
"Save your breath, Mother," Maya said, her voice deliberately flat and cold. "You didn't care when you left me in boarding schools during holidays. You didn't care when you told me I was a mistake. Why do you care now?"
"Because I was wrong!" Helen wept, her voice rising in pitch, practically acting for the hidden microphone. "Please, Maya! I am your mother! How can you be so heartless? Will you really watch your own mother starve on the streets while you sit on billions? Have you no mercy?"
From behind the screen, Victoria suddenly stepped out, holding a phone, her face twisted in a triumphant grin. "Got it! Every single word! Let's see how the public likes their 'saintly' new chairwoman when they hear how she treats her own mother begging for forgiveness!"
Maya didn't flinch. She slowly leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her tea.
"You can post that video if you like, Victoria," Maya said smoothly. "But before you do, you might want to look at the ceiling."
Victoria and Helen both looked up.
A high-definition security camera, installed by Maya’s team an hour before the meeting, was glowing with a bright blue light.
May you like
"You see," Maya explained, "this room has been live-streaming directly to the Anderson Foundation’s official social media accounts for the last twenty minutes. Over two million viewers just watched you set up a fake apology, plant a hidden camera, and admit that you only care about getting back into my bank accounts. Say hello to your audience."
Helen's face turned completely gray. Victoria dropped her phone, the glass shattering on the floor.
