Chapter 4 – THE MONEY MEANT FOR FAMILIES

“Sixty thousand dollars?”

Luca stared at Mrs. Carter.

She nodded.

“That was before the engagement arrangements began.”

I was sitting in the hospital waiting room, holding a cup of coffee I hadn’t touched.

I didn’t know what shocked me more.

That there was a fund meant to help employees like me.

Or that several people had been told it didn’t exist anymore.

Teresa looked toward her son.

“Who manages that account now?”

“Household administration,” Luca said.

Mrs. Carter shook her head.

“Vanessa took over those approvals in August.”

The room went quiet.

Luca had trusted Vanessa to organize their wedding and oversee household expenses.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, that responsibility had become much larger.

“Why wasn’t I told?” he asked.

Mrs. Carter looked ashamed.

“She said you wanted fewer daily interruptions.”

Luca sat down slowly.

I had never seen him look so defeated.

For a long moment, he stared at his father’s old watch.

Then he said, “I told her I trusted her judgment.”

Teresa’s expression softened, but her voice remained firm.

“Trusting someone doesn’t mean you stop being responsible for the people who depend on you.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

Mrs. Carter wiped her cheeks.

“There was Rosa in the laundry room. Her husband had surgery. She requested two weeks to care for him.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She used her vacation days. Then she went without pay.”

I knew Rosa.

She was fifty-six and always brought homemade banana bread when somebody had a birthday.

I remembered seeing her working with swollen feet because she couldn’t afford comfortable shoes.

Mrs. Carter continued.

“Daniel’s assistant requested time when his daughter broke her leg. And Marta, one of the cooks, needed help after her mother’s stroke.”

Teresa looked horrified.

“All three were refused?”

“They were told there was no money available.”

I pictured those women.

People I saw every day.

People who smiled while carrying burdens nobody knew about.

I’d believed I was the only one struggling.

Now I wondered how many of us had been hiding our problems because we were afraid of seeming difficult.

Luca stood.

“Then we correct it for all of them.”

Mrs. Carter nodded.

But I wasn’t ready to feel grateful.

“Mr. Moretti?”

He turned.

“Yes, Sarah?”

“Please don’t make this just about Vanessa being cruel.”

He looked surprised.

I swallowed.

“I’m not defending what she did. But nobody asked why I came back early. Not once.”

The words were difficult.

He listened.

“I worked here for four years. I never missed a shift until Owen was born. I thought that counted for something.”

“It does.”

“Then why did I have to stand beside the champagne station and beg?”

Luca lowered his eyes.

I hadn’t intended to make him feel guilty.

But I couldn’t pretend his kindness at dinner erased the weeks before it.

Finally, he said, “Because I gave someone authority and didn’t check what she was doing with it.”

I nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“And because you were afraid to tell me.”

I hesitated.

“Because I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

He absorbed that quietly.

Then he said, “That’s something I have to change.”

That afternoon, my mother arrived.

Her name was Ellen.

She was fifty-three, with tired brown eyes and hands that were always dry from cleaning supplies.

She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

I buried my face against her shoulder.

“I couldn’t get my phone.”

She pulled back.

“What?”

I told her everything.

The cooler.

The bottles.

The engagement dinner.

Vanessa’s call to the hospital.

My mother listened without interrupting.

When I finished, she sat beside me.

“Sarah, you know what frightens me?”

I shook my head.

“Not that you needed help. That you thought asking for it was something to be ashamed of.”

My eyes filled again.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

She took my hand.

“You gave me a grandson. You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”

For the first time in weeks, I leaned against her shoulder and allowed myself to rest.

A little later, Luca returned from speaking with his household finance manager, Helen Brooks.

He looked troubled.

“The fund is still active,” he explained.

Teresa exhaled in relief.

“Thank goodness.”

But Luca didn’t smile.

“There were withdrawals.”

“How many?” she asked.

“Two substantial transfers during the past month.”

My mother tightened her grip on my hand.

Luca continued.

“The account was supposed to cover paid leave and emergency assistance. Instead, money was moved into a temporary operating account.”

Teresa frowned.

“For what?”

“That’s what Helen is checking.”

Mrs. Carter looked toward the floor.

I suddenly remembered something.

“Mr. Moretti?”

“Yes?”

“The week I returned, Vanessa told the staff the engagement dinner was being organized on a very strict budget.”

He nodded.

“She told me that too.”

“She said she’d found a way to make the entire event look twice as expensive without increasing household spending.”

Luca’s expression changed.

Teresa slowly lowered her father’s watch onto the table.

“Luca,” she said, “what if she wasn’t saving money at all?”

Nobody answered.

Then Luca’s phone displayed a message from Helen.

He read it twice.

His face went completely still.

“What is it?” Teresa asked.

He looked at me.

Then at Mrs. Carter.

“The fund wasn’t merely restricted,” he said.

He swallowed.

“By the night of the engagement dinner, almost every available dollar had been transferred out.”

I stared at him.

“Transferred where?”

Luca looked down at the message again.

And the next words made Teresa cover her mouth.

“One of the accounts belongs to the Bellini family.”