Page 50 of The Secretary Volume II

Helper 99

Did I think she would be that easy?One look at the shoes and yes—yes, I did.I suppose this is the part where things get good.

I’d like to say I pity her.But that’s generous, even for me.I know I keep saying it, but these things, they never turn out well.And too bad for her, all the others before her ended up dead.Except one.

Broken record or not, it’s safe to say, the odds are not in her favor.

Luck is not on her side.And I hate to be the bearer of bad news.

It’s only been three weeks since I disposed of the last one.

He was a complication.You know how these things go.One second, you’re thinking it’s under control, and the next—wham.Loose lips.He thought he could talk, thought he could threaten the wrong people.Thought he could play the system.

He should’ve known better.

We made sure he wasn’t going to talk.Not with all those calls he made.Not with all the loose strings he was tying together in that sorry excuse for a life.

It wasn’t personal.Just business.

He was grabbed on a Tuesday.Simple detour on the way to an ‘appointment.’Lights off, back of the garage.One in the head.Clean.Efficient.No screams, no mess.No struggle.Just procedure.

Then, when it was over, we wrapped him up.Plastic.Tape.Standard procedure.Nothing too hard about it.The trick is in making it look like nothing happened.

You wouldn’t even know the guy was gone.

He ended up in a lake.Just a couple of bricks, to make sure he stays long enough not to cause any more trouble.Not that I’m worried.The water’s got a good appetite.By the time anyone looks, the fish will have eaten him clean.The family filed a missing person report, of course, but it was just a formality.No one ever thinks to look at the right time.Ten days later?The news cycle has already moved on.

And the thing is?He wasn’t enough of a somebody to stick.No one cares about a low-level whistleblower.I guess his mistake was trying to play the hero in a game where no one gets to be that.

He should’ve stayed quiet.

Loose lips sink ships.

But the real point?He’s gone.Gone, and no one’s any wiser.

And now, there’s a new one.The same old song and dance.Except this time, she got shoes.There’s plenty more where that came from.Breaking a person isn’t as enjoyable if they see it coming—if it’s all work and no play.

I don’t know if she’s figured out that the game’s already started, but there’s no going back now.

I watch her through the screens.The way she stands, the way she touches the stiletto, like she’s not sure whether to wear it or break it.I almost want to laugh.It’s all so predictable.It always is.One foot in, one foot out.Just like the others before her.

Her hesitation is almost charming.She doesn’t know it, but she’s already trapped in the same web the others walked into.She thinks she has choices, but the leash is already tightening around her throat.

I’m not stupid.I know how this goes.She’ll put the shoes on, probably smile at the mirror, thinking she’s playing along.She won’t understand how tightly it’s all been stitched around her until it’s too late.She’s walked straight into a situation where the exit sign’s been removed.

And I’m just here watching, like always.

I’m still watching when she sees the second shoe.When she realizes she’s already committed to the game.Because that’s what this is: commitment.The shoes don’t just show up.They don’t just materialize.

It doesn’t care about what she wants.

It only cares about getting her to play.

And once she’s in?

Well, we’ll see how long she lasts.Because these games?They never end well.

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