Chapter 4 - The First Word in Five Years
Lorenzo walked toward the staircase.
Nobody else moved.
“Father?”
Giovanni’s finger remained pointed at me.
Lorenzo looked over his shoulder.
“You.”
I swallowed.
“Me?”
“Come here.”
Mrs. Gable immediately stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti, I can explain.”
Lorenzo didn’t even look at her.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Her mouth closed.
I approached slowly.
Giovanni’s hand dropped from exhaustion.
Lorenzo studied me.
His eyes went first to my pregnant stomach.
Then my stained apron.
Then the bruise on my wrist.
“What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Four months.”
“And you know my father?”
I looked at Giovanni.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Gable interrupted.
“She occasionally delivered meals.”
I turned toward her.
“Occasionally?”
“Emma.”
Her warning tone had returned.
Lorenzo finally looked at her.
“Why does she sound surprised?”
Mrs. Gable smiled nervously.
“She’s young. Emotional.”
I almost laughed.
Lorenzo’s expression stayed unreadable.
He turned to Giovanni.
“Father, did you point at Emma because you wanted her here?”
One blink.
Lorenzo went still.
He crouched.
“You understood that?”
One blink.
A murmur spread through the staff.
Mrs. Gable whispered, “That could be involuntary.”
Lorenzo ignored her.
“Father, one blink means yes?”
One blink.
His entire face changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
For five years, Lorenzo had believed his father’s mind had disappeared.
He leaned closer.
“Two blinks for no?”
Blink.
Blink.
Lorenzo closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he looked at me.
“How long have you known?”
“A few weeks.”
“And no one told me?”
“I didn’t know who he was at first.”
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti, this girl is confused.”
Giovanni’s breathing became harsh.
Lorenzo turned toward him.
“Father?”
Giovanni tried raising his arm.
It trembled.
I immediately moved beside him.
“Don’t force it.”
Lorenzo noticed how naturally I spoke to him.
“You care for him?”
“I try.”
Mrs. Gable laughed nervously.
“She’s exaggerating.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Tell me exactly what you do.”
I hesitated.
“Emma.”
His voice was calm.
That somehow made it more intimidating.
“Tell me.”
I looked at Giovanni.
Then answered.
“I open his curtains.”
Lorenzo’s brow furrowed.
“Why?”
“Because they were always closed.”
Silence.
“I built fires because his radiator didn’t work.”
Lorenzo slowly looked toward Mrs. Gable.
I continued.
“I replaced cold meals.”
“What do you mean, cold meals?”
“Sometimes oatmeal had been sitting there so long it had formed a skin.”
Mrs. Gable snapped, “That happened once.”
“No, it didn’t.”
Her face hardened.
I continued.
“I bought him a heated blanket.”
“You bought it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody else did.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
His security men exchanged looks.
I swallowed and finished.
“I washed him when he needed it. Combed his hair. Helped him eat.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Who was assigned to my father?”
No one answered.
His voice grew quieter.
“Who.”
A middle-aged man near the kitchen raised his hand.
“I oversee care schedules, sir.”
“Who fed him yesterday?”
The man looked toward Mrs. Gable.
“I—I’d have to check.”
“Who bathed him?”
Silence.
“Who checked his room temperature?”
Silence.
Lorenzo looked around the foyer.
“Thirty people work in this house.”
Nobody breathed.
“And a pregnant maid earning minimum wage was buying my father a blanket?”
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“Lorenzo—”
He turned.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Her mouth closed.
Lorenzo looked at Giovanni.
“Father, has Emma been kind to you?”
One blink.
“Has Mrs. Gable?”
Giovanni stared at her.
Blink.
Blink.
Mrs. Gable took one step backward.
“That proves nothing.”
Lorenzo’s gaze sharpened.
“Has she mistreated you?”
One blink.
Mrs. Gable’s voice cracked.
“No.”
Lorenzo crouched beside his father.
“Has she allowed others to mistreat you?”
One blink.
A maid began crying quietly.
Mrs. Gable backed toward the door.
“This is absurd.”
Then something happened none of us expected.
Giovanni’s hand grabbed the armrest.
His entire body shook.
His mouth opened.
No sound came.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“Father?”
Giovanni’s face twisted with effort.
His throat worked.
Then one rough sound escaped.
“E…”
Everyone froze.
I moved closer.
“You can do it.”
Giovanni tried again.
“Em…”
Lorenzo stared at him.
Giovanni’s eyes found mine.
“Em…ma.”
The foyer erupted in gasps.
My hand flew to my mouth.
Lorenzo’s eyes filled instantly.
His father had not spoken in five years.
The first word Giovanni Moretti managed to say—
was my name.
I crouched beside him.
“I’m here.”
His hand reached for mine.
I took it.
Then Giovanni’s eyes moved toward my bruised wrist.
Lorenzo followed his gaze.
“What happened to your arm?”
I froze.
Mrs. Gable answered first.
“She’s clumsy.”
Giovanni made a harsh sound.
“No.”
It was barely understandable.
But everyone heard it.
Lorenzo slowly stood.
He looked at Mrs. Gable.
Then back at me.
“Emma.”
I didn’t answer.
“Did she do that?”
Mrs. Gable whispered, “Think carefully.”
That was her mistake.
Lorenzo’s eyes turned cold.
I looked straight at him.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“She forced me to carry heavy buckets. Made me drag curtains. Grabbed me when I refused.”
Lorenzo looked at my stomach.
“You’re six months pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“And she knew?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Gable’s composure shattered.
“She is an employee! She was hired to work!”
Lorenzo turned toward her.
“My father was helpless.”
She stopped.
“My child is not born yet, and even I understand helpless people require protection.”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes widened.
Lorenzo nodded toward his security chief.
“Take her office keys.”
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Now.”
Two men stepped forward.
She backed away.
“You cannot do this!”
Lorenzo looked at his father.
Then at me.
May you like
“Oh, I think I can.”
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