Chapter 6 - The Small Witness
The gardens of the estate were quiet at noon, the rain having finally ceased, leaving the boxwood hedges covered in thousands of tiny, diamond-like water drops.
Aleandro sat on the stone bench by the fountain, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up as he watched Emma draw in her notebook. The child was sitting on the grass, her small pink skirt gathered around her knees, her pencil moving with the furious, chaotic energy of a four-year-old trying to capture the world on paper.
"What are you making, Emma?" Aleandro asked, his voice softer than it ever was in the house.
"The lady," Emma said without looking up. She pointed a small, dirty finger at the page. "The lady with the blue dress. She was hiding the little black spider under the table. I don't like spiders, Mr. Aleandro. They bite."
Aleandro looked at the drawing. It was a crude, charcoal sketch of the head table—disproportionate, wild—but the child had drawn a large, multi-legged black shape right next to Sophia’s seat, its legs reaching out toward the trousers of the man next to her.
"Spiders only bite when they're afraid, Emma," Aleandro said, reaching out to stroke her dark curls, fixing the ribbon that had come loose again.
"Is the lady afraid?" Emma asked, her big eyes turning up to his face, full of that simple, unvarnished truth that made him feel older than the stone walls behind him.
"She was," Aleandro said quietly. "But the spider is gone now."
Elena, the housekeeper and Emma’s mother, appeared at the edge of the terrace, her face pale, her hands twisting her white linen apron with an anxious, frantic motion. She had heard the rumors from the docks; the entire house knew that a cleansing had occurred during the night, and in a Moretti house, a cleansing usually meant the floors had to be scrubbed with bleach.
"Mr. Aleandro," Elena stammered, stepping forward to pull Emma to her feet. "I am so sorry. She shouldn't have broken the protocol at the table last night. I told her to stay in the pantry—"
"Elena," Aleandro cut her off, standing up and placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. The housekeeper flinched slightly, then went still as she looked into his eyes. "Your daughter saved my life last night. If she hadn't touched my sleeve, the family would be under indictment by morning."
He reached into his wallet, pulled out a black corporate card, and slipped it into the pocket of her apron.
"There is a school in Switzerland," Aleandro said, his voice steady, carrying the absolute weight of a decree. "The Rosey Institute. They accept children at five. Emma’s tuition, her living expenses, and a private apartment for you in Geneva have already been funded by the Moretti foundation. You leave on Monday."
May you like
Elena’s mouth opened, her eyes filling with tears as she looked down at the card, then back at the boss. "Mr. Aleandro... I am just the maid—"
"You are the mother of the girl who saved the house," Aleandro said. "Go pack your bags, Elena. The air in Switzerland is much cleaner than the air here."
