Chapter 2 - THE CARD IN MATTEO’S POCKET
Maria’s apartment felt smaller that night.
Not because anything had changed.
Because fear took up space.
The rent was due in nine days.
Her checking account had $684.
The refrigerator contained milk, eggs, rice, half a chicken, and two apples.
Her health insurance would disappear with her job.
So would Matteo’s childcare arrangement.
Maria sat at the kitchen table staring at the termination paper Diane had forced her to sign.
EMPLOYMENT ENDED DUE TO SUSPECTED THEFT.
Suspected.
That one word could destroy every reference she had.
Every future employer would ask.
Every background check would raise questions.
“Mama?”
Maria quickly wiped her face.
Matteo stood in the hallway wearing dinosaur pajamas.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
He climbed onto the chair beside her.
“Because you’re sad.”
Maria forced a smile.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
She stared at him.
Four years old.
Too observant.
Too gentle.
Too much like his father had once been.
Before life taught Maria not to trust promises.
Matteo put his stuffed rabbit on the table.
Then he reached into the pocket of his jacket hanging over the chair.
He pulled out a business card.
Maria’s face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Mr. Richard.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
“He gave it to me.”
“When?”
Matteo thought hard.
“When I broke the blue car.”
Maria remembered.
Three months earlier, Richard had unexpectedly returned from London.
Matteo had been sitting in the staff room because his daycare closed early.
Richard had found him playing with a miniature Aston Martin from a display shelf.
The toy slipped.
One wheel broke.
Matteo burst into tears.
Maria had apologized for twenty minutes.
Richard had surprised both of them by crouching beside Matteo and saying, “It’s a toy, buddy. Toys are supposed to get broken.”
Then he gave Matteo a business card.
Maria had assumed it was a joke.
“What did he tell you?” she asked now.
Matteo smiled faintly.
“He said if I ever had a real emergency, I could call the number.”
Maria grabbed the card.
“No.”
Matteo’s smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Whitfield is very busy.”
“But this is a real emergency.”
“No, baby.”
“He said real emergency.”
“Matteo.”
“You didn’t steal.”
Maria closed her eyes.
“No.”
“And they said you did.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re crying.”
Maria looked away.
Matteo slid from the chair.
“Then it’s an emergency.”
Before she could stop him, he grabbed Maria’s phone.
“Matteo.”
He ran toward the living room.
“Give me the phone.”
He giggled once, thinking she was playing.
Then he punched the numbers printed on the card.
Maria reached him just as the call connected.
A man answered.
His voice was tired.
“Whitfield.”
Maria froze.
Matteo grinned.
“Mr. Richard?”
There was a pause.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Matteo.”
Another pause.
Longer.
“Maria’s Matteo?”
“Yes.”
Maria’s blood went cold.
“Matteo, hang up.”
Richard heard her.
“Maria?”
She took the phone.
“Mr. Whitfield, I’m sorry.”
“Why is Matteo calling me at eleven-thirty at night?”
“It was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Matteo shouted.
Maria covered the phone.
“Go to bed.”
“Mama!”
“Now.”
His eyes filled with tears.
Richard’s voice sharpened.
“Maria, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Matteo said something happened.”
“It’s handled.”
“What is handled?”
Maria gripped the phone.
She wanted to tell him.
She wanted to scream.
Instead she whispered, “I was dismissed today.”
Silence.
“For what?”
Maria looked at the termination paper.
“Your diamond bracelet.”
Another silence.
Then Richard said four words.
“I don’t own one.”
Maria stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I said I don’t own a diamond bracelet.”
Her knees nearly gave out.
Richard’s voice turned cold.
“Who fired you?”
Maria whispered the name.
May you like
“Diane Sinclair.”
And thousands of miles away, Richard Whitfield stood up so fast that the champagne glass beside his airplane seat shattered on the floor.
