Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF LOOKING AWAY
The silence after Alessandro's question was worse than shouting.
Six employees stood in the doorway. None of them looked at Meline.
A young kitchen assistant named Sofia gripped her apron so tightly her knuckles had turned white. The butler, Harold, stared at the floor. Two servers shifted uneasily beside the pantry.
Alessandro waited.
“I'm asking a simple question.”
Harold finally spoke.
“We were here, sir.”
“And you saw Mrs. Voss push her?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you intervene?”
Harold swallowed.
“Because we were afraid of losing our jobs.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
Meline could see the anger building in his face, but she was surprised when he turned toward her instead of the employees.
“Are you burned?”
She glanced at her apron.
“A little soup splashed my wrist.”
“Let me see.”
“It's nothing.”
His expression softened slightly.
“Please.”
She showed him.
The skin was red, but the burn appeared minor.
Alessandro called for the estate's medical attendant.
Then he turned toward Beatrice.
“You're relieved of your duties pending an investigation.”
Beatrice gasped.
“Mr. Moretti, I've managed this house for eleven years!”
“And apparently you've spent some of that time deciding who deserves to eat.”
“That man—”
She stopped.
Giovanni looked at her.
“Go on,” he said quietly. “I'm listening.”
Beatrice's face drained of color.
Alessandro stepped between them.
“You will leave the premises after collecting your personal belongings under supervision. The estate's management team will review what happened, including any complaints made by other employees.”
Beatrice looked around desperately.
Nobody defended her.
Meline expected Alessandro to leave once the situation was handled.
Instead, he helped Giovanni back into his chair.
Then he turned toward the kitchen.
“Someone bring my father lunch.”
Giovanni lifted a hand.
“Not someone.”
Alessandro looked at him.
Giovanni pointed toward Meline.
“She already tried.”
Meline's cheeks warmed.
“I can make another bowl.”
Alessandro frowned.
“You've been injured.”
“It's a small burn.”
“You should rest.”
Meline looked directly at him.
“With respect, Mr. Moretti, your father is still hungry.”
Giovanni laughed.
It was a deep, delighted sound.
Alessandro stared at her.
Then, slowly, his mouth curved.
“Fair point.”
Twenty minutes later, Giovanni was eating chicken soup at the dining-room table.
Meline had changed her apron.
Alessandro sat across from his father.
For the first time in months, the two men shared a meal.
But Meline noticed something strange.
Giovanni ate slowly, as if he was afraid someone might take the bowl away.
And Alessandro watched him with an expression that looked dangerously close to guilt.
After lunch, Giovanni asked Meline to sit.
She hesitated.
“Sir, I'm working.”
“Then consider this a break.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Please sit, Miss Pierce.”
She lowered herself into the chair.
Giovanni smiled.
“Tell my son what you told me in the garden.”
Meline blinked.
“About what?”
“About old people.”
Her face flushed.
“I didn't say anything important.”
Giovanni chuckled.
“You said a person doesn't become less hungry just because everyone stops noticing him.”
Alessandro looked at her.
Meline stared at the table.
“It seemed obvious.”
Giovanni smiled sadly.
“Not in this house.”
May you like
And that was when Alessandro realized his father's suffering had not begun with the spilled soup.
It had begun long before Meline arrived.
