Chapter 3 - The Hundred-Dollar Insult
Maya did not sleep.
She sat at the tiny kitchen table until nearly dawn with the photograph lying beneath the yellow light above the stove.
Sophie slept down the hallway.
Outside their apartment, the city gradually quieted.
Inside Maya’s mind, Naples became loud again.
Scooters.
Church bells.
Market vendors.
Her mother shouting from the balcony.
Luca laughing.
Maya had spent years refusing to think about those days.
Not because they had been terrible.
That was the problem.
Some of them had been beautiful.
Her mother, Elena Bennett, had met Luca Moretti when Maya was six.
Within a year, Elena sold most of their belongings and moved with her daughter to Italy.
Everyone back home called it reckless.
Elena called it love.
For five years, they lived above a bakery.
Luca appeared and disappeared irregularly, sometimes gone for days, but when he was home he filled the apartment with noise.
Music.
Friends.
Food.
Stories.
He treated Maya like family.
Until one night everything ended.
Maya remembered waking to shouting.
Her mother packing.
Luca arguing with someone in the hallway.
Then the taxi.
The airport.
America.
No explanation.
Whenever Maya asked, Elena answered the same way.
“Some doors should stay closed.”
Now Elena’s handwriting stared up from the photograph.
If anything happens, Maya knows where it is.
“I don’t know anything,” Maya whispered.
From the hallway came Sophie’s voice.
“Are you arguing with paper?”
Maya jumped.
Sophie stood in the doorway wearing oversized pajamas, pale and sleepy.
“You’re awake.”
“So are you.”
“I had an excuse until I found my sister conducting a criminal interrogation with a photograph.”
Maya covered the picture with her hand.
Too late.
Sophie noticed.
“Who’s that?”
“Nobody.”
“That is the universal answer for somebody.”
“Sophie.”
She walked closer.
“Is that Mom’s handwriting?”
Maya looked at her.
Sophie’s teasing expression disappeared.
They sat together.
Maya told her almost everything.
The restaurant.
Dominic.
The insult.
Her answer.
The photograph.
When Maya finished, Sophie stared at her in disbelief.
“You told a mafia boss to buy himself class?”
“That’s the part you’re focusing on?”
“I’m sick, not dead. That’s incredible.”
“It was stupid.”
“It can be both.”
Maya pushed the photograph toward her.
Sophie read the message.
“Maybe Mom meant something from Naples.”
“I was twelve.”
“You were weirdly observant at twelve.”
“I was weirdly annoying at twelve.”
“Also true.”
Maya smiled despite herself.
Sophie studied Luca’s face.
“I barely remember him.”
“You were two when we moved home.”
“Mom kept something from that time.”
Maya frowned.
“What?”
“A box.”
“What box?”
Sophie shrugged.
“Blue metal. She kept it at the back of her closet.”
Maya stared at her.
“I never saw a blue box.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“After Mom died, when we cleaned the apartment.”
Maya stood immediately.
“Where is it?”
Sophie blinked.
“I thought you took it.”
“I didn’t.”
They both fell silent.
Maya’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then she thought of Dominic.
“Hello?”
“This is Henry.”
Maya relaxed slightly.
“You’re calling me before seven in the morning. Someone better be dead.”
“Are you coming in tonight?”
“You haven’t fired me?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Mr. Russo.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“What did he do?”
“He left you a gratuity.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You haven’t heard the amount.”
“I especially don’t want it if you say it like that.”
Henry cleared his throat.
“Ten thousand dollars.”
Sophie’s eyes widened from across the table.
Maya gripped the phone.
“No.”
“Maya—”
“No.”
“The payroll manager already processed—”
“Reverse it.”
“You can pay your bills.”
Her jaw tightened.
“How do you know about my bills?”
Silence.
Then Henry said quietly, “Everyone here works because they need money.”
“That doesn’t mean everyone can be bought.”
“Maya.”
“Reverse it.”
She hung up.
Sophie stared.
“Ten thousand?”
“Yes.”
“You refused ten thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Can I respectfully call you insane?”
“Yes.”
Sophie became serious.
“Why?”
Maya looked at the photograph.
“Because he insulted me over a hundred dollars. If I accept ten thousand the same night, what does that prove?”
“That you’re ten thousand dollars richer?”
“Sophie.”
Her sister sighed.
“I know.”
Maya took her hand.
“We’ll manage.”
“You always say that.”
“And we always do.”
At four that afternoon, Maya arrived for work.
Henry met her near the coat room.
“You really made accounting reverse it.”
“Yes.”
“He asked if you accepted.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
Maya tied her apron.
“And?”
Henry handed her a folded piece of paper.
“He sent this.”
Maya opened it.
One sentence.
Good. I hoped you wouldn’t. — D.R.
She crumpled it.
“Infuriating.”
Henry looked nervous.
“He has another reservation tonight.”
Maya stared.
“Absolutely not.”
“He requested you.”
“Then tell him Maya has been kidnapped by pirates.”
“Maya—”
“No.”
At exactly eight-thirty, Dominic arrived.
Alone except for the scarred enforcer.
He sat at Booth Nine.
Maya ignored him for eleven minutes.
Then Henry cornered her.
“He says he only wants coffee.”
“Then you bring coffee.”
“He said from you.”
Maya muttered something Henry pretended not to hear.
She approached the booth.
“Coffee.”
Dominic looked up.
“Yes.”
“Cream?”
“No.”
“Sugar?”
“No.”
“Arrogance?”
His mouth twitched.
“Apparently enough already.”
Maya almost smiled.
Almost.
She poured.
Dominic said, “You returned the money.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I wanted to hear you say it.”
Maya put down the coffee pot.
“Because I don’t need you converting disrespect into charity.”
His expression became thoughtful.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“What was?”
“An apology.”
“Apologies use words.”
“I’m not particularly good with those.”
“I noticed.”
Dominic looked at her for several seconds.
Then said, simply, “I was wrong.”
Maya waited.
He continued.
“What I said about you was cruel.”
Still she waited.
“And ignorant.”
“That’s better.”
His mouth curved.
“I’m sorry.”
The sincerity unsettled her.
She had expected manipulation.
Deflection.
Maybe another joke.
Instead, Dominic Russo looked almost uncomfortable.
Maya nodded once.
“Accepted.”
“Just like that?”
“You apologized.”
“Most people make me work harder.”
“Most people want something.”
“And you don’t?”
“I want to finish my shift.”
She turned.
“Maya.”
She looked back.
“The photograph.”
Her expression cooled.
“What about it?”
“Did you remember anything?”
“No.”
It was only partly a lie.
The blue box now occupied her thoughts.
Dominic watched her carefully.
“You’re hiding something.”
“Apparently that’s a hobby of mine.”
Before he could answer, Henry rushed across the dining room.
“Maya.”
His face was pale.
“There’s someone asking for you.”
“Who?”
“A man.”
Maya glanced toward the entrance.
An older man stood near the host desk.
Late sixties.
Gray overcoat.
Silver hair.
He looked familiar in a way that made her stomach turn before she understood why.
Then the man saw Dominic.
He stopped.
Dominic rose slowly.
The scarred enforcer moved instantly beside him.
The older man looked at Maya.
“Elena’s daughter.”
Maya froze.
“How do you know my mother?”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Who are you?”
The old man smiled without warmth.
“You don’t remember me, Dominic?”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Recognition came.
“Salvatore Greco.”
Maya looked between them.
The name meant nothing to her.
The reaction did.
Dominic’s enforcer opened his jacket slightly.
Salvatore lifted both hands.
“I came to talk.”
“You came to the wrong place.”
“No.”
His eyes moved to Maya.
“I came exactly where I intended.”
Maya’s pulse quickened.
“What do you want?”
Salvatore ignored Dominic.
“Your mother stole something twelve years ago.”
Maya stared.
“My mother never stole anything.”
The old man’s smile vanished.
“She stole from people who do not forgive.”
Dominic moved closer.
“Careful.”
Salvatore laughed softly.
“You still protect strangers before understanding the truth. Just like your father.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Salvatore looked back at Maya.
“Your mother took a ledger.”
“A what?”
“A record.”
Maya’s mind jumped to Sophie’s blue metal box.
She gave no outward reaction.
Salvatore watched her carefully.
“A ledger containing names, transactions, politicians, police officers, judges, businessmen.”
Dominic became completely still.
Salvatore continued.
“Your mother and Luca planned to use it to disappear.”
Maya shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask Russo why his father nearly died the same night.”
Maya looked at Dominic.
His face was unreadable.
Salvatore leaned closer.
“Ask him who killed Luca Moretti.”
Dominic’s voice turned cold.
“Enough.”
Salvatore smiled.
“You never told her?”
“Told me what?” Maya demanded.
Dominic said nothing.
Maya stepped toward him.
“What does he mean?”
Salvatore answered for him.
“Luca did not disappear.”
His eyes stayed on Maya.
“He was murdered.”
Every sound in the restaurant seemed to vanish.
Maya stared at Dominic.
“Is that true?”
Dominic looked as though he wanted to refuse the answer.
He could not.
“Yes.”
Maya felt the floor shift beneath her.
“Who?”
Dominic’s silence said too much.
Salvatore smiled.
“His father.”
Maya backed away.
“No.”
Dominic moved toward her.
“Maya, listen to me.”
“Your father killed Luca?”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“It sounds extremely simple.”
“My father believed Luca betrayed him.”
“And did he?”
“I don’t know.”
She laughed once, sharply.
“You came here asking me questions about my mother while you already knew Luca was dead?”
“Yes.”
“You let me look at that photograph—”
“I needed to know what you remembered.”
“You used me.”
“No.”
“You did.”
Dominic reached for her arm.
Maya pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The entire restaurant was watching now.
Dominic lowered his hand.
Salvatore looked satisfied.
Then he said the words that changed the argument into something far more dangerous.
“Maya, if your mother left you the ledger, give it to me.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“Think carefully.”
“I said I don’t have it.”
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“Then find it.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“You’re done.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Two more of Dominic’s men appeared from the entrance.
Salvatore slowly backed away.
Before leaving, he looked directly at Maya.
“You have forty-eight hours.”
Dominic’s men moved toward him.
Salvatore laughed.
“If anything happens to me tonight, copies of everything I know go to people Russo doesn’t want asking questions.”
Dominic stopped them with a look.
Salvatore walked out.
Maya stood motionless.
Forty-eight hours.
Dominic turned toward her.
“Maya—”
She removed her apron.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“You shouldn’t go home alone.”
“That stopped being your concern when you decided I was a useful source of information.”
“Maya.”
She threw the apron onto a nearby table.
“Stay away from me.”
Then she walked out.
But Dominic knew something Maya did not.
Salvatore Greco had not come merely to scare her.
He had come because someone had already searched Elena Bennett’s old apartment that afternoon.
May you like
And whoever was looking for the missing ledger was now headed toward the place where Maya and Sophie slept.
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