Chapter 2 - THE HOUSEKEEPER WHO VANISHED
Leïla’s first flight landed shortly after dawn.
By then, nobody in the palace had slept.
A black SUV waited on the private runway.
Farid Rahal, the palace security chief, sat in the front passenger seat.
He turned before Leïla had even closed the door.
“We found blood.”
Leïla stared at him.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Karim sat beside her.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were red.
“Not much,” he said quickly. “A few drops near Samira’s quarters.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
The SUV moved.
Leïla looked at Farid.
“Tell me everything.”
“Samira Haddad. Twenty-seven. Joined palace housekeeping nine months ago. No disciplinary record. No criminal history. No known political connections.”
“Family?”
“Mother died when she was fourteen. Father unknown. Raised mostly by an aunt outside Rabat.”
“Why was she assigned to Karim’s office?”
“Naïma approved it.”
Leïla looked at Karim.
“Of course she did.”
Farid continued.
“Samira’s normal shift ended at ten every night. Your code extended her access past midnight on six occasions.”
“Six?”
Karim handed her a file.
“I only found three last night. IT found the others.”
Every extension involved the West Wing.
Every one began after midnight.
Every one carried Leïla’s authorization.
She flipped through the pages.
“Where is Naïma?”
“Being questioned.”
“And Malik?”
Nobody answered.
Leïla looked up.
“Where is Malik?”
Karim leaned back.
“His driver says he left the palace yesterday afternoon.”
“For where?”
“Apparently Casablanca.”
“Apparently?”
“His plane never took off.”
Leïla felt the first cold flicker of genuine fear.
At the palace, guards opened the iron gates.
Cars rolled through the long courtyard.
The building looked the same as always.
White stone.
Tall arches.
Quiet fountains.
But that morning the place felt contaminated.
Like a house where someone had been walking while everyone slept.
Leïla went directly to General Affairs.
Naïma was waiting inside.
No handcuffs.
No guards touching her.
But two security officers stood behind the door.
Naïma looked exhausted.
“Princess Leïla.”
“Don’t.”
Naïma stopped.
“Did you steal my code?”
“No.”
“Did you watch me enter it?”
“Yes.”
Leïla stepped closer.
Naïma’s face tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me Malik was standing behind me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Now six unauthorized night shifts carry my name.”
Naïma swallowed.
“I didn’t create them.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Leïla placed a photograph of Samira on the desk.
“Where is she?”
Naïma stared at it.
Something moved across her expression.
Fear.
Leïla caught it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You just reacted.”
Naïma looked toward the guards.
“I am afraid because a woman is missing.”
“Wrong answer.”
Leïla leaned across the desk.
“You managed this palace for fifteen years. You know every maid who changes a sheet and every driver who takes a smoke break. Samira vanished from inside the most protected building in the country, and you expect me to believe you know nothing?”
Naïma’s eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to protect her.”
The room went still.
Karim stepped forward.
“From whom?”
Naïma shook her head.
“Tell us.”
“I can’t.”
Leïla’s voice hardened.
“You can.”
Naïma looked at her.
Then at Karim.
Then toward the closed door.
“He said if I spoke, my son would disappear too.”
Leïla felt Karim stiffen beside her.
“Who said that?”
Naïma opened her mouth.
The lights died.
Everything went black.
A crash sounded outside.
Then a gunshot exploded in the hallway.
Karim pulled Leïla down.
Security rushed toward the door.
Emergency lights flickered red.
Naïma screamed.
When the lights came back three seconds later, the window behind her was shattered.
Naïma was on the floor.
Blood spread across her white blouse.
And taped beneath her desk was a handwritten note.
Leïla tore it free.
May you like
Only four words were written there.
SAMIRA KNOWS WHO INHERITS.
