Chapter ten

Chapter ten

It was a lovely Saturday morning. The birds chirped outside, their beautiful song floating through the open window and gently waking Eileen. She had slept deeply, the kind of sleep that only came after emotional exhaustion and the fragile hope of progress. Last night was fruitful. She had taken a step—her first real step—toward freedom. That thought alone brought a tiny smile to her face.

Downstairs, she could hear José’s voice, low and gruff, talking with his men. She lay still, listening. He was giving orders—telling Tommy and Mike to be at the shore early, to retrieve a shipment and take it straight to the club.

Evie’s Club. On the surface, it was all flashing lights and cocktails—just another place where the city’s party crowd came to lose themselves. But underneath the glitz, it was one of José’s fronts. Everyone in the underworld knew it. Beneath the bass-thumping music and the pop of champagne corks, there was human trafficking, money laundering, drugs... all the filth that crawled in the shadows.

She stayed motionless until she heard the rumble of engines and the slamming of doors. The house finally quieted. She exhaled, got out of bed, pulled on her robe, and padded downstairs.

On the way, she peeked into Josh’s room. He was still asleep, curled up and breathing softly. A wave of tenderness crashed into her chest. She quietly closed the door and went to the kitchen.

Mrs. Maya was there, working alongside a younger maid. They were preparing breakfast.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the young maid greeted.

“Morning,” Eileen replied, reaching for a coffee mug in the cupboard.

“Good morning, Mrs. Maya,” she said with a smile.

Mrs. Maya gave her a warm nod. She wanted to ask about the previous night, about the bar and the cop, but she stayed silent because of the other maid.

“Jocelyn,” she said suddenly, “I forgot to buy cheese yesterday. Could you run out and get some? I think Josh would love some mac and cheese this morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jocelyn said, untying her apron.

They waited in silence until they heard the front door close.

“I’m very sure there’s cheese in the fridge,” Eileen said with a smile.

Mrs. Maya chuckled. “This smile you have this morning... it's telling me you got something.”

“Yes,” Eileen said, her eyes brightening. “I got it. His name is Detective Alvarez. And I got his number.”

“That’s really good,” Mrs. Maya said, her voice tinged with cautious optimism.

Eileen pulled out the secret phone from its hiding spot in the cupboard. Mrs. Maya had bought it for her last week, slipping it to her like a lifeline. With trembling fingers, Eileen opened W******p and typed:

Mr. Alvarez, I would love to work with you anonymously.

I know you’ve been investigating José Santiago.

I’m very close to him. I can give you real intel—real tips about his network.

If we work together, we can bring him down. We both want the same thing.

She looked up. Mrs. Maya was watching her type, her expression unreadable. Eileen hesitated, her thumb hovering over the send button.

Mrs. Maya gave her a subtle nod.

Eileen took a breath and hit send.

Her heart was pounding. She got up and began to pace the floor, her hands on her head. Mrs. Maya gulped down a glass of water, trying to steady her nerves. The cool morning breeze drifted through the kitchen window, but both women were sweating like they’d been locked in a furnace.

Then—

Ping.

They both lunged for the phone. The message was simple:

Who are you?

Eileen's throat tightened. She typed:

I can’t tell you who I am, but I’m inside the Santiago mansion.

I can be very useful to you.

The reply came quick.

Can I call you?

NO.

Then I need to know more. Are you a maid? A guard? One of his thugs?

I need something to prove I can trust you.

How do I know this isn’t a trap?

Eileen grabbed a bottle of water and drank like she’d been walking in a desert. Then she typed:

You can trust me because I want what you want—

I want José Santiago to pay for every sin he had committed.

Then give me something.

Prove to me you’re real. That you’re in.

Eileen looked at Mrs. Maya again. She wanted assurance, a sign—anything. But the older woman looked just as terrified, her hands trembling as she clutched her apron.

They were scared. And they had every reason to be.

They were going up against José Santiago.

But Eileen thought of Henry. She thought of her son Josh. She thought of freedom, of holding Henry in her arms again. She thought of taking Josh far away from this toxic prison of a house.

No. She couldn’t back down now.

She typed:

There’s a shipment coming in tonight.

Two of his men—Tommy and Mike—are retrieving it.

What is it? Guns? Drugs?

I don’t know, but I know it’s going straight to Evie’s club.

What time?

I don’t know. But it’s tonight.

I’ll check it out.

You should be careful, you are a target. They want you in or dead. You should know these are very dangerous people, you are up against.

I can take care of myself, the world might not really know the Santiago's but trust me, I know them damn well.

Then, just like that, he went offline.

Eileen placed the phone back in its hiding spot. She and Mrs. Maya sat down slowly, their bodies tense, their faces pale. It felt like their hearts were still pounding in their throats.

Josh walked into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Maya replied, trying to sound casual.

“Morning,” Eileen said with a faint smile.

Josh looked at them both. Something in the room felt off, but he was more interested in the game paused upstairs on his iPad. He grabbed a bottle of water and bolted.

“We’ll make you some mac and cheese,” Mrs. Maya managed to call after him.

The rest of the day felt like walking a tightrope. Every little sound made Eileen jump. Mrs. Maya kept busy scrubbing the already clean kitchen counters, folding napkins that didn’t need folding, trying to distract herself from the anxiety gnawing at her chest.

José came home around 8 p.m. He sat with Josh in the living room watching a movie. Eileen stayed away. She avoided eye contact, afraid that if he looked too closely, he’d see the guilt etched into her bones. She stuck an earbud in one ear and played soft music, pretending everything was normal.

Then his phone rang.

Her blood ran cold.

“What?!” he barked into the phone. He went silent for a moment, then said:

“Tommy—take that route I showed you. Park under the bridge. I’m bringing backup. It’ll be a bloodbath before they take that shipment from me.”

Mrs. Maya’s hand shook as she set the dinner table.

Eileen could feel sweat beading in her nose, her palms sticky.

They watched José climb the stairs and grab his gun. He called three more men, gave them directions, then stormed out of the house.

The door slammed behind him.

Mrs. Maya collapsed into a chair in the kitchen, breathing like she’d just run a marathon.

Josh came to the table, still glued to his iPad. He began eating. The women asked him simple questions—how was his game, was he winning—trying to appear calm, normal, human.

But they knew the truth:

If José even suspected them, they wouldn’t live to see morning.

That night, Eileen lay in bed, rolling restlessly beneath the sheets. Her stomach twisted with anxiety. She needed to know what was happening. Was the raid successful? Did Alvarez make it out alive?

She closed her eyes and prayed.

To anyone listening.

To anything that cared.

Let this work.

This was a really bold step, there were days the thought of going against him gave her shivers of panic.