Chapter 2 - THE SILENT DINNER
The silence in the dining room was absolute.
Thirty guests, dressed in designer suits and cocktail dresses, stared at the head of the table. The clinking of crystal glasses and the soft hum of conversation had completely vanished.
Vanessa stood frozen, her hands gripping the exquisite red silk of the gown my mother had painstakingly crafted.
“Luca, you are blowing this entirely out of proportion,” Vanessa said, her voice tight, a high-pitched forced laugh escaping her lips. “I was going to pay her. I simply needed to review the wedding budget first.”
Luca didn't blink.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The quiet intensity rolling off him was enough to suck the air from the room.
“You told her if she asked for her money, you would fire Rachel,” Luca repeated, his words dropping like stones on a glass table. “Is that true?”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the guests, silently begging someone—anyone—to intervene.
Nobody moved.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Vanessa insisted, her face flushing crimson. “Margaret must have misheard me.”
“I didn't mishear you, Mrs. Bellini,” my mother said softly.
Everyone looked at her. My sweet, sixty-nine-year-old mother, who had never raised her voice to a soul in her life, was trembling. But she held her head up.
“You stood in my kitchen,” Mom said, her voice shaking but clear. “You looked at my husband’s photograph on the wall, and you told me that a widow should know when to accept a blessing and when to keep her mouth shut.”
A collective gasp rippled through the guests.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hadn't known that. I hadn't known Vanessa had been that cruel.
Luca’s expression darkened into something terrifying.
“You brought my father into this?” I whispered, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks.
Vanessa took a step back, hitting the edge of the dining table. “She’s lying! She’s a confused old woman trying to extort us!”
“My mother does not lie,” I said, stepping forward, the fear of losing my job entirely eclipsed by raw, protective fury.
Luca held up a hand, stopping me.
He turned his gaze back to Vanessa.
“Take it off,” Luca said quietly.
Vanessa blinked, confusion replacing the panic in her eyes. “What?”
“Take the dress off, Vanessa,” Luca commanded, his voice echoing in the silent restaurant. “It doesn't belong to you.”
“Luca, you can't be serious! I have nothing else to wear!”
“Then you will wear a coat,” Luca said, turning to his head of security, a massive man named Matteo standing near the door. “Matteo, bring Mrs. Bellini her coat. And escort her to the upstairs office so she can change.”
“You are humiliating me!” Vanessa shrieked, tears of rage finally springing to her eyes. “I am your fiancée! My family—”
“Your family isn't here tonight,” Luca interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. “And if you ever threaten one of my employees again, they will be attending a funeral instead of a wedding.”
The threat hung in the air, heavy and lethal.
Vanessa sobbed, turning on her heel and practically running toward the stairs, Matteo following closely behind.
Luca didn't watch her go.
He turned to my mother. The intimidating aura vanished, replaced by profound respect.
He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, black checkbook. He unscrewed a silver pen.
“Margaret,” Luca said gently. “What was the agreed price for the gown?”
My mother looked down, her hands wringing together. “Three thousand dollars, sir.”
Luca paused.
“Three thousand?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “For six weeks of handmade, custom silk tailoring?”
“Yes, sir.”
Luca shook his head slowly. He pressed the pen to the paper and wrote a check. He tore it from the book and handed it to my mother.
Mom took it with trembling fingers. She looked at the number written in bold, black ink.
She gasped, covering her mouth.
“Mr. Moretti, no,” she cried. “This is too much. I can't accept twenty thousand dollars.”
“You are accepting it,” Luca said firmly, though his eyes were warm. “Three thousand for the dress. Seventeen thousand for the disrespect you suffered in my house.”
My mother wept, clutching the check to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what had just happened.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Luca.
“Don't thank me, Rachel,” Luca said quietly.
He turned back to the remaining guests.
“Dinner is over,” Luca announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Please see yourselves out.”
As the wealthy guests hurried to retrieve their coats and leave the restaurant, a sharp, older woman’s voice cut through the commotion.
“I suppose this means the wedding is postponed?”
I turned.
Standing near the coat check was a tall, elegant woman in her late sixties. She had sharp features, wearing a tailored black suit and a necklace of heavy, dark pearls.
Luca’s aunt. Carmela Moretti.
“The wedding is canceled, Aunt Carmela,” Luca said without missing a beat.
Carmela smiled a thin, approving smile. “Good. She lacked class.”
She walked out the door.
Within ten minutes, the massive restaurant was empty, save for me, my mother, Luca, and Matteo, who had returned downstairs holding the red silk gown over his arm.
“She left through the back entrance, Boss,” Matteo said, handing the dress to my mother. “She took a cab.”
Luca nodded.
“Are you hungry, Margaret?” Luca asked, gesturing to the untouched, extravagant feast on the table.
My mother wiped her eyes and managed a small laugh. “A little, sir.”
“Then let’s eat.”
We sat at the long table, the three of us, eating food meant for Chicago’s elite. For the first time in months, I saw my mother truly relax.
But as we were finishing our dessert, the heavy brass phone on the host’s stand rang loudly in the empty restaurant.
Matteo answered it.
He listened for a moment, his face draining of color.
He walked over to Luca, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
Luca’s expression hardened into stone.
“When?” Luca asked quietly.
“Ten minutes ago,” Matteo replied.
Luca stood up, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin.
“Rachel, Matteo is going to drive you and your mother home,” Luca said, his voice completely devoid of the warmth it had held just moments before. “Do not stop anywhere. Go inside, lock the doors, and do not open them for anyone but me.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What’s wrong? Did Vanessa do something?”
Luca looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying grimness.
“Vanessa didn't take a cab home, Rachel,” Luca said. “Her cab was intercepted three blocks from here.”
May you like
He looked toward the dark windows of the restaurant.
“She’s gone.”
