They Thought I Was A Janitor, Until I Refinanced The Skyscraper And Evicted Them

The broken toothbrush was still in her pocket, a sharp jagged edge against her hip, as night fell over the skyscraper. The hospital's demand for the deposit loomed over her like an executioner's blade. She had to get into the server room tonight.

"Don't do it, child," Sophia whispered, gripping Elena's arm near the freight elevator. The older woman’s face was drawn with worry. "You get caught, it ain't just fired. It's jail."

"I don't have a choice," Elena whispered back. "He dies if I don't fix this."

She slipped away into the shadows. The hallway was silent. She approached the server room, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She swiped the keycard she'd pilfered from a distracted guard. The light turned green.

She pushed the door open—and a deafening siren shrieked.

Panic seized her. A setup. It wasn't a silent alarm; it was a trap. The fear of wrongul termination vanished, replaced by the terror of handcuffs.

"Security!" a voice boomed.

Elena spun around, backing into Sophia who had followed her. Two guards blocked the corridor. Behind them, Marcus stepped out from the shadows, a calm, predatory smile on his face. He held up a clear plastic bag containing a hard drive.

"Found this in your cart, Rossi," he said smoothly. "Attempted corporate espionage and theft? That's a felony."

"I didn't take that!" Elena shouted, but the guards were already closing in. Her mind raced—criminal defense attorney, bail bonds—words that belonged to a life she couldn't afford.

"Search her," Marcus commanded, looking delighted. "And check the old woman too. Accomplices, clearly."