Page 78 of The Secretary Volume II

“We’re just wondering if maybe he mentioned any conditions.Allergies?A pre-existing heart condition?”

She smiles.“Sometimes things get missed.”

I can’t answer her.

“What I’m looking for,” she continues, “is anything that might have helped us avoid this…”

She taps something into the tablet without waiting for me to reply.“Perfect, then.Thanks for your time.”

I receive my discharge paperwork.At the bottom, someone’s written:

Compliance: 98%

Recovery Estimate: 12–18 hours.Return to work Monday.

Thank you for your contribution.

Contribution.

I taste copper, gauze, and something sour that’s closer to shame than regret.

44

Helper 99

What are the odds?Another body.Another mess.Feels like déjà vu.Another person who thinks they can get too close, see too much.

I guess it had to happen eventually.I just didn’t expect it so soon.

Maybe it’s fate.Maybe it’s just bad timing.Doesn’t matter.Either way, she saw what it takes to make the product work.And him?He never thought it through.Neither the dead man nor the one who likes to think he’s running the show.But I’ll clean it up, like I always do.

In the meantime, I sit here, pretending it’s just another “unfortunate complication.”

Another liability that gets adjusted.It’s not personal.It’s business.Survival.

Still, this one?It stings.It’s not grief.It’s the look on her face—like she saw the truth and still wanted to believe in mercy.The way she flinched when he saidcompliance.Like she realized how deep she’s in.Too deep to escape, but too valuable to dispose of—yet.

She’ll break, though.They all do.

I wonder what she’s thinking now.Watching someone die right in front of her.That’s not something you forget easily.But then again, she seems good at pretending.Better than the others, I’ll give her that.

The sad part?He doesn’t even realize he’s fucked it up.Not yet.But he will.

There’s time for that.He likes to draw it out.Where’s the fun if the hunt is too easy—if it’s over too soon?Sure, he’s hunting in an animal sanctuary, fishing in a stocked pond.But that isn’t the point.He has to keep the illusion intact.

Oh well.A simple adjustment, and she’s gone.Just like the others.

People don’t get it.They think theHelpersare just a part of the process—like glorified janitors, wiping away the aftermath of someone else’s mistakes.It’s cute.But it’s far from the truth.

Most Helpers?Sure, they deal with the small stuff.The visible mistakes.They fix the surface, clean up the obvious problems.But me?I’m different.I don’t just clean.I manage the system.I make sure it doesn’t break.

That’s why he chose me for this—that’s why he put me in this position.The others can’t see the cracks, but I can.I’m the one who handles the people who slip up—the ones who start asking the wrong questions, the ones who get too close to the truth.The ones who don’t fit into the neat little boxes his system has made for them.I’m the one who decides when it’s time to cut them loose or dispose of them.The other Helpers don’t get that.They’re just foot soldiers.Easily replaceable.They don’t see the bigger picture.They’re not supposed to.He prefers it that way.

I take another look at the footage.What a mess.I take a deep breath, crack my knuckles.Remind myself this is an easy day.

45

Lena

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