Chapter 7: The File He Left Open On The Kitchen Island
The hallway stayed bright after Alessandro said the wedding was canceled for the second time, and neither of us moved until Mrs. Keller's footsteps faded into the kitchen. Bianca's hand was still on her suitcase handle. Alessandro didn't raise his voice. That was the part that made it worse for her.
"East wing," he said. "Tonight is the last night you sleep here. Tomorrow morning a car will be at the side entrance at nine."
Bianca stared at him. "You're not serious, Alex."
"I am," he said. "You will not go into the kitchen. You will not go near the garage apartment. Mrs. Keller will bring you what you need."
He didn't wait for her agreement. He turned to me. "Elena, come with me. Bring your phone."
I followed him down the hall to the kitchen. The crystal jug was still on the counter where Mrs. Keller had put it, next to my yellow glove. Sofia was at the small table with a glass of water, Mrs. Keller standing close by. Alessandro pulled out a chair for me and then opened his laptop on the island. The screen was already awake.
He turned it toward me. It was an email thread with the house manager, dated before I was hired. Names I didn't recognize. Two messages flagged in yellow.
"Read the second one," he said.
I leaned in. It was short, from a woman named Marisol who had worked here the previous spring. She wrote that Bianca had spoken to her about "remembering her place" after a dinner service, that she had grabbed her arm, that she was told not to make it an issue if she wanted a reference.
My wrist throbbed under the gauze.
"This wasn't the first time," Alessandro said, not to me exactly, but out loud in the room where Sofia and Mrs. Keller could hear. "I filed it as a personality conflict. I told the manager to smooth it over."
Bianca had come to the kitchen doorway without being invited. She stopped at the threshold when she saw the laptop.
"You went through my private messages?" she said.
"No," Alessandro said. "These are house records. From my staff. Staff you don't have."
Bianca looked at me then, quick and sharp. "You think this proves something? One unhappy housekeeper?"
"It proves a pattern," Alessandro said. "And the pattern is you tell people their job or their family is at risk if they speak."
He closed the laptop. The kitchen was quiet except for the refrigerator humming.
"Marisol left without photos," he said. "Elena stayed because she can't afford to leave. You knew that."
Bianca's mouth opened, then closed. Her control was cracking in a way that wasn't loud. Her shoulders dropped a fraction and she gripped the doorframe.
"I was under pressure," she said finally. "The wedding, your mother, the foundation event —"
"Don't," Alessandro said. "My mother isn't here. My staff is."
He checked his watch. It was 9:42. "You have until nine tomorrow. Pack only your things. I will have Mrs. Keller inventory the rest."
Bianca didn't answer. She turned and walked back toward the east wing, her suitcase wheels loud on the marble. When the hallway door clicked, Alessandro exhaled once through his nose.
He looked at me. "You will not be alone again. Do you understand?"
May you like
I nodded. "Yes."
Mrs. Keller put a hand on Sofia's shoulder. Sofia had been watching the whole exchange without interrupting, which was not like her. I realized she had understood more than I wanted her to.
