Chapter 2 - The Girl Who Had Seen Everything
By morning, Dante had bought every white rose available at three Chicago florists.
Emma knew because hospital reception called to ask where the delivery should go.
“Send them back,” she said.
The woman hesitated.
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
Nora, sitting beside the bed with two terrible coffees, smiled without humor.
“Good. His first consequence can be figuring out what to do with a greenhouse.”
Emma almost laughed.
Then her cheek pulled painfully, and the almost disappeared.
The examination had shown no immediate injury to the baby. Her doctor wanted another period of observation and a follow-up appointment. A hospital advocate helped Emma document what had happened and discussed options without pushing her toward a decision.
Emma had spent eleven years being told what was best for her.
Being offered choices felt strangely unfamiliar.
At ten, a lawyer arrived.
Leah Foster was in her forties, wore practical shoes, and looked at Dante’s name on the intake form without the slightest visible reaction.
Nora had found her through a colleague.
“I represent you,” Leah said. “That means your wishes guide our decisions. Before we discuss property, tell me what you need today.”
Emma answered immediately.
“A door he can’t open.”
Leah nodded.
“Then that’s where we start.”
They discussed safe accommodation, communication through counsel, financial records, and an application for protection. Leah made no grand promises. She explained that each request would require evidence and that some questions would take time.
Emma trusted her more for that.
At noon, Dante called from an unfamiliar number.
Emma let it ring.
A message followed.
Please. Five minutes.
She handed the phone to Leah.
By two, all communication went through the lawyer’s office.
By three, Emma had received an email from the Romano family attorney requesting a “private resolution.”
Leah read it once.
“Private can be appropriate,” she said. “Silent is something else. We won’t confuse them.”
Near sunset, Ruth appeared at the curtain.
“There’s a young woman asking for you. Lucia Alvarez. She says she worked at the dinner.”
Emma sat upright.
Nora immediately stood.
“Does Dante know she’s here?”
“She says no,” Ruth replied.
Lucia entered clutching a cheap black purse.
Without her serving uniform, she looked younger than Emma remembered.
“I’m sorry,” she said before reaching the chair.
“You didn’t hit me.”
“I saw her push you.”
The room went still.
Lucia swallowed.
“I was bringing the cake plates. Ms. Russo moved in front of you. She put both hands against your shoulder and shoved. You hit the chair.”
“Would you tell my lawyer that?” Emma asked.
Lucia nodded, then started crying.
“My mother cleans offices for one of his companies. I need you to understand that.”
Emma did understand.
Dante’s influence did not always require threats. Sometimes a familiar name on a paycheck was enough.
“You don’t have to speak to him,” Leah said gently. “And I won’t pretend your concerns are imaginary. Let’s talk about what support you need.”
Lucia sat.
There was more.
After Emma left, Bianca had claimed she had merely reached toward her.
Two men at the table agreed.
Marco had said nothing.
But Lucia remembered a small camera above the dining room’s service entrance. It had been installed after a valuable painting disappeared during a charity event the previous year.
Emma remembered the installation.
Dante had complained that the housing spoiled the paneling.
Leah wrote down the location.
“That footage may matter. I’ll send a preservation demand immediately.”
Lucia reached into her purse.
“There’s something else.”
She produced a folded envelope.
“Mr. Bellini asked me to give you this. He said I should decide whether I wanted to.”
Inside was a short handwritten note.
The original is secured. Your lawyer should contact mine. I should have intervened. —Marco
Emma read it twice.
There was no dramatic confession. No promise to make everything right.
Only a man acknowledging that standing nearby had been a choice.
Her phone vibrated.
This time, the message came from Isabella.
He has sent Bianca away. Please don’t destroy your family over one terrible moment.
Emma showed Nora.
Nora’s expression hardened.
But Emma took the phone back before her sister could answer.
She typed slowly.
My family was in my body when he hit me. I am protecting it.
Then she placed the phone facedown.
For the first time since leaving the estate, Emma felt something beneath the fear.
Not relief.
Not yet.
A small, steady certainty.
May you like
There had been witnesses.
And one of them had finally stopped looking at the floor.
