Chapter 3 - The Witness
Amanda moved closer, staying in the blind spot of the room’s cameras. She had to get her daughter out, but the sight of the ruthless billionaire weeping on the floor stopped her.
Arthur pulled a small, silver locket from beneath his silk shirt. He opened it, showing the picture inside to Bia. It was a woman—young, smiling, with the same curls as Bia.
“I was poor once,” Arthur confessed to the toddler, as if she could understand. “I had nothing. I had a wife who loved me when I was a nobody. We lost everything. I made a deal with the wrong people to get back on top, and I lost her in the process. They told me she died in an accident. But I never believed it.”
Bia reached for the locket, her tiny fingers clutching the silver.
Arthur looked at the baby’s pink backpack again. “Amanda Silva,” he read aloud.
Amanda felt her heart drop. He knew her name. How?
“You’re a beautiful child,” Arthur said, his voice cracking. “And you’re the first innocent thing that has been in this office in twenty years.”
He looked toward the darkness of the hallway. He knew she was there. He had to have seen the silhouette.
“Amanda,” he said, not looking up. “Come in.”
Amanda stepped into the light, her knees weak. She clutched the door frame for support. “I… I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll leave. I’ll go. Don't call the police. I didn't mean to—”
“Sit down, Amanda,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
He didn't stand up. He kept Bia in his lap, playing with the girl's curls. “I’ve spent my life building a fortress, thinking that if I had enough money, I could buy back the time I lost. But looking at her… I realize I just built a tomb.”
He looked up at Amanda, his eyes cold again—not with malice, but with a terrifying, calculated focus.
“You’re struggling,” he said. “I see the reports. I see the staff audits. You’re working three jobs and you still can't pay the rent. And yet, you’ve never stolen a paperclip from this office.”
“I’m an honest person,” Amanda said, her voice shaking.
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“Honesty is a luxury, Amanda. You don't have the luxury.” He paused, looking at the door, then back at her. “I know where the two million went. My board members were stealing from the offshore accounts to frame me. I needed a witness, someone who wouldn't be bought, someone who was already invisible.”
He held out his hand. “Help me, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about an eviction notice again. Not just for a month. For a lifetime.”
