Chapter 9 - The Sabotage
Two days before the grand opening of the Vance Community Center, catastrophe struck.
Eleanor arrived at the facility at six in the morning to find the main gallery flooded with water. A major pipe in the ceiling had ostensibly burst overnight, soaking three dozen children’s sculpture pedestals and ruining several fabric installations.
The maintenance supervisor stood near the back, stammering excuses. But Eleanor, kneeling in the ankle-deep water, noticed something suspicious: the supply valve had been manually wrenched open with a pipe tool, its lock severed cleanly with industrial bolt cutters.
Her phone rang. It was an unknown number.
She answered, her voice trembling with cold and fury. "Eleanor Brooks."
"Terrible plumbing in that neighborhood, isn't it?" Richard’s smug voice purred through the receiver. "It would be such a shame if your little pet project collapsed before Harrison Vance’s elite friends could even see it. Maybe now you'll realize you can't build anything without real power."
"You did this?" Eleanor whispered, disbelief battling with raw anger. "These are children’s projects, Richard! Kids who have nothing! You destroyed their work just to spite me?"
"I reminded you of your place," Richard replied coldly. "You're a homemaker. Go back to your broom."
May you like
He hung up.
Eleanor stood in the filthy water, her fists clenched so hard her fingernails bit into her palms. The old Eleanor might have broken down and wept. But that woman had died the night of the gala. She took a deep breath, dialed the foundation's volunteer coordinator, and said five words: "Call everyone. We rebuild today."
