Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN IN THE KITCHEN
Elena asked to resign.
Alessandro refused the resignation.
Not because she owed the family anything.
Because she was quitting out of fear.
“You think Sofia caused this.”
Elena looked down.
“She spoke when she shouldn’t have.”
“No.”
“She spoke when every adult around her was afraid.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“She could have been killed.”
“Yes.”
The truth hurt.
“But that would have been Enzo’s fault.”
“Not hers.”
Elena sat quietly.
Alessandro continued.
“You also don’t have to stay here.”
“If you want a new house, I’ll arrange it.”
“If you want another job, I’ll give you references.”
“If you want distance from the Romano family, I will understand.”
She smiled faintly.
“You say that like Sofia will allow distance.”
From the next room, Sofia shouted.
“Uncle Alessandro.”
He closed his eyes.
Elena laughed.
The title had appeared three days after Luca explained the family relationship.
Sofia accepted it faster than everyone else.
Luca struggled more.
He wanted to buy Sofia everything.
Elena stopped him.
“She needs a father.”
“Not a department store.”
Luca actually listened.
That surprised Alessandro.
Fatherhood changed him quickly.
Not perfectly.
But visibly.
He attended Sofia’s school play with Elena.
He learned she hated strawberries.
He learned she slept with the hallway light on.
He learned the doll’s name was Rosa.
He also learned that being a father did not automatically make Elena his partner.
That lesson was harder.
One evening, Alessandro passed the kitchen and heard them arguing.
“I want to make up for six years.”
Luca said.
“You can’t.”
Elena replied.
“You can only show up for the next one.”
Alessandro stopped outside the doorway.
That sentence belonged to him too.
He could not undo bringing Isabella into the house.
He could not undo ignoring small inconsistencies because he was in love.
He could not undo the danger Sofia faced.
He could only decide what happened next.
The estate changed.
Security protocols changed.
Food preparation changed.
No single person controlled access.
No reusable private codes.
No unquestioned routines.
Most importantly, Alessandro started eating breakfast alone.
Not because he feared food.
Because the empty chair across from him reminded him how close he had come to marrying a stranger.
Then one morning Sofia walked in.
She climbed onto Isabella’s old chair.
Alessandro raised an eyebrow.
“Do you have permission?”
“No.”
“Honest.”
She smiled.
Then she pushed a piece of toast toward him.
May you like
“No butter.”
Alessandro laughed for the first time in weeks.
