Manhattan.
Greenwich.
The Hamptons.
Westchester.
A total of $1.4 million in payments.
Then Monica found one name.
Grace Williams.
Twenty-four years old.
$32,000 placement fee.
Red note:
NONCOMPLIANT — MOVED.
No destination.
No follow-up.
Nothing.
Monica had spent weeks investigating labor exploitation.
Now she understood.
This was bigger.
This was trafficking.
Katherine returned home angry that evening.
Her interior designer had apparently suggested the wrong height for the gala centerpieces.
She threw her coat onto the floor.
“Hang that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sparkling water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Not room temperature like last time.”
Monica returned with the glass.
Katherine took one sip.
“Too much lemon.”
She pushed it away.
The glass fell.
Shattered.
“Clean it.”
Monica knelt.
One shard sliced her finger.
Blood appeared instantly.
Katherine watched.
No concern.
No tissue.
Nothing.
Then Katherine suddenly asked:
“Were you in my office today?”
Monica’s hands remained steady.
“Yes, ma’am.”
