**“TAKE OFF THAT OLD SWEATER. YOUR MOTHER ISN'T COMING BACK.” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE SAID IT TO HIS EIGHT-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER IN FRONT OF TWENTY-EIGHT DINNER GUESTS—THEN TOLD HIM, “SHE'S JUST THROWING A TANTRUM,” BEFORE HE SAW WHAT HIS LITTLE GIRL WAS TRYING TO HIDE.**

Two weeks passed.

The dust settled, and the estate finally felt like a home again.

Vanessa was apprehended by federal marshals in a cheap motel near the border, her bags packed with stolen cash. The district attorney pressed charges, and true to Luca's word, her brother on the parole board publicly abandoned her to save his own career. My sister’s abuser remained locked in a cell, exactly where he belonged.

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

So why did I feel like I was suffocating?

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The house was quiet. Emma was at school, and Luca was at his office in the city.

I stood in my small bedroom off the kitchen, staring at my open suitcase on the bed.

I had been packing for an hour.

I give her my blessing.

Elena’s words from the bank vault haunted me. They were beautiful, but they felt too heavy to carry.

Since that day at the bank, the dynamic between Luca and me had shifted. He looked at me differently. He lingered in the kitchen when I cooked. He asked my opinion on Emma’s school projects. He treated me like a partner, not an employee.

And it terrified me.

I didn’t belong in this massive, chandelier-lit mansion. I was a girl with a struggling sister and a meager savings account. I felt like an imposter stepping into the shoes of a wealthy, elegant artist. I was afraid that if I stayed, Luca would eventually realize I wasn't the savior Elena thought I was. I was just Rachel.

I folded my last uniform and placed it in the suitcase.

I had written a resignation letter. I planned to leave before they got home, to spare Emma a tearful goodbye. It was cowardly, but it was all my heart could handle.

I zipped the suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped, dropping the zipper.

Teresa Moretti stood in my doorway. She was holding a silver tea tray, her sharp eyes locked on my luggage.

“Mrs. Moretti,” I stammered. “I… I’m leaving.”

Teresa didn't look surprised. She walked into the room, set the tray on my small dresser, and sat down on the edge of my bed.

“Sit,” she commanded.

I slowly sat in the wooden chair by the window.

“You think you don't belong here,” Teresa stated. It wasn't a question.

“I’m the help,” I said, looking at my hands. “Luca is grieving. He’s confused. He’s attaching himself to me because I’m safe, because Elena told him to. But what happens in a year, when he wakes up and realizes he’s with the maid?”

Teresa laughed. It was a sharp, dry sound.

“You think my son is a fool, Rachel? You think he loves you because a piece of paper told him to?”

I looked up, stunned. “Love?”

“Oh, please,” Teresa waved a dismissive hand. “He has loved you for six months. He just felt too guilty to admit it to himself. That’s why he let Vanessa rush the engagement. He was trying to run away from what he felt for you, because Vanessa felt like punishment, and you felt like a betrayal to Elena.”

Answer one: Luca’s rush to marry Vanessa was a reaction to his suppressed feelings for me.

Open two: But how could I ever bridge the gap between our worlds?

Teresa reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver object.

She held it out to me.

It was an antique men's pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, and the hands were frozen at exactly 4:15.

“Elena’s father’s watch,” Teresa said softly. “It broke the day he died. Elena kept it in her nightstand. She always said it was waiting for the right time to start ticking again.”

I hesitated, then took the heavy watch in my palm. The metal was cold.

“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked.

“Because you aren't leaving,” Teresa said firmly. “Luca took Emma out of school early today. They went up to the family cabin in the mountains. He told me to tell you to pack a bag and meet them there. He said it’s time.”

“Time for what?” I whispered.