The laughter echoed against the mahogany-panelled walls of Richard Harrington’s study. The tech mogul was in his element, entertaining his fellow board members with what he considered a brilliant joke at the expense of his household staff. Elena Vasquez stood perfectly still, her face a practice mask of neutrality, as she held the document he had thrust into her hands moments earlier.
Twenty years of service had taught her how to remain invisible in plain sight. But today something had shifted. I’m serious, Elena, Richard said, wiping tears of amusement from his eyes.
My lawyers just sent over this contract from our new partners in Shanghai. Even our translators are struggling with the technical terminology. If you can translate this correctly by tomorrow morning, I’ll give you my monthly salary.
That’s nearly four hundred thousand dollars. More laughter erupted from the three other executives seated around the imported Italian coffee table. They were celebrating the closing of a 2.8 billion dollar acquisition, their fourth this year.
To them, this was merely after-dinner entertainment. Richard, you’re terrible, chuckled Diane Winters, the CFO. Don’t tease the help.
Elena glanced down at the document written entirely in Mandarin. Complex characters filled the page, with technical diagrams and annotations in the margins. The paper trembled slightly in her fingers.
Not from intimidation, but from a simmering emotion she rarely allowed herself to feel in this house. Indignation. Five o’clock tomorrow, Richard continued, already turning back to his colleagues.
Although I imagine you’ll be returning that promptly. He waved his hand in dismissal, the diamond cufflink catching the light from the crystal chandelier overhead. Elena nodded once, still clutching the document.
Will there be anything else this evening, Mr. Harrington? No, that’s all. Make sure the bar is stocked before you leave. We’ll be up late celebrating.
With another nod, Elena left the study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. The sounds of laughter faded as she walked down the long corridor toward the kitchen. Her sensible shoes made no sound on the plush carpet that probably cost more than her annual salary.
In the sanctuary of the kitchen, Elena placed the document on the marble countertop and stared at it. She had worked for the Harrington family since arriving in America twenty years ago. She had watched Richard’s children grow up, had maintained his home with impeccable care, had even nursed his wife through the final stages of cancer three years ago.
And still, after all this time, she remained invisible to him. A prop to be used for amusement. Elena reached for her phone in the pocket of her uniform and took a photo of the document.
Then she sent a quick text message. It’s me. I need your help with something important.
Forty minutes later, after ensuring the bar was stocked and the kitchen spotless, Elena left the Harrington estate and drove her twelve-year-old Toyota to her modest apartment in a working-class neighborhood twenty miles away. Despite the late hour, lights still burned in many windows. This wasn’t a neighborhood where people had the luxury of early nights.
Inside her small but immaculate one-bedroom apartment, Elena changed out of her uniform and sat down at her computer. She opened her email and attached the photo of the document, then typed a brief message. Professor Lynn, I hope this message finds you well.