Chapter 3: The Discovery
Chapter 3: The Discovery
The music swelled as another celebrity entered the ballroom.
Photographers surged toward the entrance.
Reporters called out questions.
Guests applauded politely.
For a few moments, every eye in the room was fixed on the glamorous arrivals.
Every eye...
Except Regina Blake's.
She wasn't watching the celebrities.
She rarely did.
To Regina, famous actors and supermodels were temporary decorations.
Details.
What truly interested her was control.
And control depended on perfection.
Her gaze swept across the ballroom with mechanical precision.
The floral arrangements.
Perfect.
The lighting.
Acceptable.
The champagne towers.
Symmetrical.
The press wall.
Straight.
Then...
Something disrupted the carefully choreographed picture.
Near one of the massive marble pillars by the entrance...
A bright yellow mop bucket.
Visible.
Obvious.
Ugly.
Against a ballroom designed for elegance, it looked almost offensive.
Regina stopped walking so abruptly that the two assistants following behind nearly collided with her.
The sharp heels of her white designer pumps clicked loudly against the polished marble.
The sound echoed through the nearby hallway.
Several employees instinctively froze.
They recognized that sound.
It meant someone had just made a mistake.
Regina stared at the bucket.
Her expression hardened.
Her perfectly shaped lips slowly pressed into a thin, unforgiving line.
"What..."
she asked quietly,
"...is that doing here?"
No one answered.
The event manager glanced nervously toward housekeeping.
The housekeeping supervisor suddenly became fascinated by her clipboard.
A waiter silently stepped backward.
Everyone hoped someone else would become Regina's next target.
Unfortunately...
Someone already had.
Regina turned without another word and began walking toward the entrance.
Not quickly.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Every step seemed designed to make people nervous before she even arrived.
Employees parted instinctively.
Conversations stopped.
The orchestra continued playing, but the small circle around Regina fell into complete silence.
Near the pillar...
Maya was still kneeling beside the floor.
She had nearly finished removing the last traces of the coffee stain.
She sensed someone approaching before she looked up.
When she saw the white suit...
Her heartbeat quickened.
She immediately set down her cleaning cloth.
"Good evening, ma'am."
Her voice remained calm.
Professional.
Respectful.
Regina didn't return the greeting.
She simply looked down at the polished marble.
Then at the bucket.
Then back at the floor again.
"You cleaned this?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"There was a coffee spill."
"I've almost finished."
Regina glanced briefly at the spotless marble.
She couldn't find a single stain.
No streaks.
No residue.
No fingerprints.
Technically...
The work was excellent.
But Regina wasn't interested in complimenting excellence.
She preferred finding flaws.
Her eyes drifted lower.
Past the mop.
Past the folded towels.
Until they landed on something unexpected.
The old leather sketchbook resting quietly against the yellow bucket.
It looked strangely out of place.
Everything else around Maya belonged to housekeeping.
Rubber gloves.
Cleaning supplies.
Spray bottles.
The sketchbook didn't.
Its worn leather cover suggested years of use.
The corners were softened.
Several pages bulged slightly from being overfilled.
Someone clearly valued it.
Regina narrowed her eyes.
"What's that?"
Maya instinctively followed her gaze.
Her stomach tightened.
"My..."
she answered carefully,
"...my sketchbook."
Regina arched one eyebrow.
"A sketchbook?"
She sounded almost amused.
"What exactly does a janitor sketch?"
A nearby assistant laughed quietly.
Then immediately stopped when Regina didn't.
Maya remained composed.
"I draw designs."
Regina looked genuinely surprised.
"For what?"
Maya hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Dresses."
Several employees exchanged quick glances.
Regina stared at Maya for a long moment.
Then...
She laughed.
Not loudly.
Not warmly.
Just enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"You?"
Her tone carried genuine disbelief.
"You design fashion?"
Maya lowered her eyes.
"I like drawing."
Regina stepped closer.
"So..."
she said slowly,
"...our cleaning staff thinks they're designers now."
A few executives nearby smiled awkwardly.
No one wanted to participate.
But no one wanted to disagree either.
Maya quietly reached toward the sketchbook.
"If you'll excuse me, ma'am..."
Before her fingertips touched the cover—
Regina moved faster.
She bent down.
Picked up the sketchbook herself.
"No."
"I'd like to see this."
Maya's hand froze in midair.
For the first time since Regina had approached...
Her breathing changed.
Only slightly.
Barely noticeable.
But noticeable enough.
A tiny tightening around her eyes.
A brief stiffness in her shoulders.
Her pupils widened for less than a second.
Pure panic.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Just a fleeting crack in the calm expression she had spent years perfecting.
She recovered almost instantly.
Her face returned to quiet professionalism.
But Arthur, the elderly head of facilities passing through the lobby, happened to notice.
He frowned.
That wasn't the expression of someone protecting a hobby.
That was the expression of someone watching their entire heart being placed into another person's hands.
"My sketchbook," Maya repeated softly.
There was no anger in her voice.
Only concern.
"Please..."
Regina ignored the request.
She turned the book over once in her hands.
Old leather.
Cracked binding.
Tape holding part of the spine together.
She looked almost offended by its condition.
"You carry this to work?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why?"
"I draw during lunch."
Regina scoffed.
"So instead of resting..."
"...you pretend to be a fashion designer."
Maya didn't answer.
There was nothing she could say that would improve the situation.
She simply stood quietly.
Hands folded in front of her.
Watching Regina's fingers rest against the worn cover.
She wanted to ask for it back.
Desperately.
But experience had taught her something.
People like Regina didn't respond well to being told "no."
Especially in public.
Around them, more employees had begun to notice what was happening.
Housekeepers slowed their work.
Servers lingered nearby.
Even a few guests looked over curiously, sensing drama unfolding.
No one spoke.
Regina placed one perfectly manicured finger beneath the front cover.
Then looked directly into Maya's eyes.
"So..."
she said with a faint smile,
"let's see what dreams look like..."
"...when they're drawn by someone who cleans floors."
May you like
And before Maya could say another word...
Regina slowly opened the sketchbook.
