Betsey pushed the heavy service cart down the service corridor. The wheels squeaked rhythmically, a grating sound that scraped against her nerves. Dani Perez walked a few paces ahead of her, tapping furiously on her tablet.
They reached the service elevator. Dani pressed the button for the Penthouse. The doors slid open, and Betsey pushed the cart inside. Dani followed, standing as far away from the cart as possible, as if the cleaning supplies were contagious.
The doors closed, sealing them in the small metal box. The elevator began its ascent.
"You should be grateful," Dani said, not looking at Betsey. "Most girls with your background end up on the street. Your mother certainly had her ways of getting by. Sleeping her way to the middle, wasn't it?"
The air in the elevator seemed to vanish. The insult wasn't just cruel; it was an attack on her mother's memory, the only decent thing Betsey had left. Her vision tunneled. The sound of the elevator hum faded into a high-pitched ring.
The elevator lurched slightly as it passed the twentieth floor. The mechanical noise masked the sound of Betsey's stillness.
She didn't move a muscle. She simply stopped breathing and turned her head slowly, fixing her eyes on Dani.
Dani, still rambling, felt the atmosphere change. The air grew cold. She trailed off, glancing at Betsey. She saw the look in the butler's eyes. It wasn't anger. It wasn't sadness. It was a profound, chilling emptiness, a void that promised nothing good.
Dani's own breath caught in her throat. She took an involuntary step back, pressing herself against the elevator wall.
Betsey's voice was a whisper, so low it was barely audible above the hum of the cables, but it cut through the air like a shard of ice. "You seem to be under a great deal of stress, Ms. Perez. Be careful it doesn't lead to an accident. This hotel has so many... blind spots."
Dani's eyes bulged. She saw a monster behind the mask, a glimpse of something ancient and dangerous. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
The elevator dinged. They had reached the Penthouse floor.
The spell broke. Betsey blinked, and the meek butler was back. She looked down at her shoes, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling-not from adrenaline, but from a feigned nervousness.
By the time the doors slid open, Dani was gasping, clutching her throat as if she'd been physically choked. She stared at Betsey with absolute horror.
She scrambled out of the elevator, picking up her tablet with trembling hands. She looked like she wanted to scream for security, but something in Betsey's blank stare stopped her. Fear. What could she say? That a maid had scared her with a look?
And then, the fear twisted into vindictiveness. Dani straightened her blouse, regaining a shred of her composure.
"I won't fire you," Dani hissed, her voice raspy. "That would be too easy."
She pointed a shaking finger at the Penthouse doors. "You are the personal attendant for the incoming guest. Do you know who it is? It's Celestino Franklin."
Betsey's expression didn't change, but she knew the name. Everyone knew the name. The Butcher of Wall Street.
"He eats staff alive," Dani said, a malicious smile returning to her face. "He destroys people just for breathing wrong. I hope he breaks you."
"Yes, Ms. Perez," Betsey said.
Dani backed away, pressing the button for the lobby repeatedly, desperate to put distance between herself and the butler. The doors closed, taking Dani away.
Betsey stood alone in the opulent hallway. The carpet was thick and plush under her rubber soles. The walls were lined with silk.
She reached up and touched her own neck, checking her pulse. 60 beats per minute. It hadn't even risen.
She grabbed the handle of her cart and pushed it toward the double doors of the Presidential Suite. She was ready for the monster. She had been living with one inside herself for years.
