Allison Blake—or as the world knew her in her evil digital exploits, Jade Noir—leaned back in her ergonomic chair, feet propped up on her custom glass desk. Her secret lair was a masterpiece of eccentric genius.
Neon lights illuminated rows of monitors displaying an array of camera feeds, social media profiles, and live streams of the Carter family's every move. The centerpiece of this absurdly high-tech den was Alfred, her AI butler, whose voice was the perfect mix of prim sophistication and sarcastic wit.
"Alfred, report," Allie said, swirling a cup of coffee as if it were a glass of fine wine.
"Madam," Alfred replied in his clipped British accent, "Rob Carter is currently in a board meeting discussing how to save their quarterly profits. A futile endeavor, I might add, considering his penchant for investing in questionable tech startups."
Allie smirked. "Let me guess… another crypto venture?"
"Indeed. This one promises to revolutionize farming with blockchain. Riveting," Alfred deadpanned.
"Ugh, rich people," Allie muttered, sipping her coffee. "And Max?" Her voice softened ever so slightly at the mention of her son's name.
"Young Master Max is currently at the Carter estate, enduring his piano lesson. From what I can gather, he detests it with every fiber of his being."
Allie's face lit up with a mixture of pride and sympathy. "That's my boy. Already rejecting the bourgeois nonsense."
She clicked on the feed from the estate, and there he was: Max Carter, her little rebel, sitting at a grand piano with a scowl that could curdle milk. His tiny fingers hovered over the keys, but instead of playing, he was dramatically banging a single note over and over again, much to the dismay of his tutor.
"Brilliant," Allie whispered, her heart swelling. "A true artiste."
"Shall I compose a sonnet in his honor?" Alfred asked dryly.
"Don't tempt me," she shot back, grinning. "Alright, what about Veronica and Madison? What are the Wicked Stepmother and Stepsister up to?"
Alfred switched the feed to a lavish spa, where Veronica Blake and her daughter Madison were lounging in fluffy robes, sipping champagne.
"Ah, yes," Alfred said. "The Blakes are hard at work restoring their inner glow. Veronica just complained about how exhausting it is to be wealthy, and Madison is posting her eleventh selfie of the hour with the hashtag #NoFilter, which, of course, is a lie."
Allie wrinkled her nose. "It's like watching a live-action soap opera. Except the characters are somehow less believable."
She spun her chair around, facing the massive whiteboard on the far wall. It was covered in sticky notes, doodles, and diagrams outlining her grand plan to infiltrate the Carter family and reclaim Max. "Alright, Alfred, let's strategize. Phase One was getting the teaching job. Nailed it. Phase Two is…"
"Bonding with the target," Alfred supplied.
"Exactly. I need Max to trust me. And by trust me, I mean worship me as the coolest person he's ever met."
Allie stopped to stare at the feed of her darling son with a longing sigh.
"A lofty goal, but given your penchant for dramatics, not unattainable," Alfred replied.
Allie ignored the jab and stared at the screen showing Max. His piano lesson had devolved into a full-on protest. He was now lying on the keys, arms spread like a tiny martyr, while the tutor pleaded with him to sit up.
"He's a revolutionary," Allie said, a tear of pride threatening to escape. "Look at him, Alfred. He's rejecting societal norms at the tender age of three. A prodigy."
"Or perhaps he simply despises piano lessons," Alfred suggested.
"Semantics," she replied, waving a hand. "Now, back to Phase Two. I need to plant seeds of doubt in the Carter household. Just little things to make them question their decisions. Suggestions?"
"Might I propose tampering with the Wi-Fi? Nothing incites chaos quite like disrupting the internet," Alfred said.
Allie grinned. "Oh, Alfred, it's too soon for that. Let's save that for Phase Three. For now, let's focus on surveillance. Zoom in on Veronica."
The screen showed Veronica snapping at a spa attendant for bringing her the wrong shade of cucumber water. "It's green!" she exclaimed, as if this were the greatest injustice of the century.
"She's unhinged," Allie said, shaking her head. "How did my dad ever fall for her?"
"Perhaps he was temporarily blinded by her… assets," Alfred suggested.
Allie shuddered. "Ew. Don't. Just don't."
She turned her attention back to the whiteboard. "Alright, let's talk Phase Three. That's when I start chipping away at the Carter's defenses. Maybe I plant some fake documents suggesting Rob Carter's been funneling money into offshore accounts."
"Bold. Unexpected. Deranged," Alfred commented. "I approve."
Allie laughed, spinning her chair again. "You're the best, Alfred. "
"Your secret is safe with me, madam," Alfred replied. "Now, if I may suggest, perhaps it's time for a tactical nap. You've been awake for thirty-six hours."
"Sleep is for the weak," Allie declared. But even as she said it, her eyelids felt heavy. She glanced at the monitor showing Max, now gleefully playing the piano… with his feet. "Fine. A quick nap. But wake me if anything happens. Anything."
"Of course, madam. Sweet dreams," Alfred said, dimming the lights.
As Allie dozed off, visions of her son danced in her head. Her plan was crazy, ambitious, and borderline illegal, but she didn't care. She was going to get Max back, and she was going to have a blast doing it.