Chapter 2 - The Blind Spot in Frame 4The security office of Bellamy House was a cramped, windowless box smelling of overheating circuit boards and cheap coffee. Mercer sat in front of a sprawling monitor setup, his thick fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard as he brought up the multi-angle camera feeds.
Dante stood behind him, his massive frame casting a shadow over the desk. Mara stood slightly to his left, her eyes locked on the glowing screens.
"Here," Mercer muttered, clicking a timeline marker. "Service Station B. 9:12 PM."
The video feed flickered to life. The camera angle was mounted high in the corner of the pantry corridor, looking down at the wooden service counter where Mara had prepped the drinks.
The screen showed Mara walking in, placing the tray down, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade, and pouring a glass. She inserted the pink-and-white straw, set the branded napkin beneath it, and turned around to grab the dessert plates from the heating lamp.
"Pause," Dante ordered.
Mercer hit the spacebar.
On screen, Mara’s back was turned to the service counter. For exactly twelve seconds, the service station was unattended.
"Look at the corner of the frame," Mara whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the bottom left quadrant of the monitor.
Mercer frowned, leaning closer to the screen. "There's nothing there. Just a shadow from the pantry door frame."
"Enhance," Dante commanded.
Mercer tapped a sequence of keys, zooming in on the dark doorway. The pixels stretched, blurring into a grainy gray smear before sharpening into a horrifying clarity.
A hand emerged from the darkness.
It was wearing a black latex glove. The fingers were long, slender, and manicured, holding a small glass vial filled with a clear, viscous liquid. The hand slid silently across the counter, tilted the vial over Ava’s glass for less than a second, and vanished back into the shadows.
The entire sequence took precisely three seconds.
"Who was on the floor at 9:12?" Dante’s voice was dangerously quiet. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Mercer frantically pulled up the staff attendance and floor assignment logs. "That... that's the service corridor connecting the private dining room to the kitchen. Only senior waitstaff and management have keycard access to that zone."
"Name them," Dante said.
"The floor manager, Gregory Vance. And..." Mercer swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he read the name on the screen. "And Victoria Vance. His wife and the head hostess."
Lorenzo Vale crossed his arms, his face darkening. "The Vances. They’ve managed Bellamy House for eight years. Their loyalty to the Moretti family was supposedly unquestionable."
"Loyalty is a currency people spend when they run out of cash," Dante said coldly. He turned his gaze to Mara. "You knew it wasn't an accident the moment you looked at the glass."
"I knew someone had tampered with my setup," Mara corrected him. "And I knew that if you blamed me, I wouldn't live long enough to prove otherwise. In my world, Mr. Moretti, if you make a mistake, you pay for it. But if someone frames you for a crime you didn't commit, you fight back."
May you like
Dante held her gaze for a long, intense beat. There was a spark of fierce, unyielding intelligence in the waitress's eyes that he hadn't expected to find beneath a cheap polyester uniform.
"Mercer," Dante said without breaking eye contact with Mara. "Find Gregory and Victoria Vance. Bring them to me. Now."
