Chapter 1 - The Garage Where Leo Had to Earn Dinner
By the time Enzo Caradonna entered the garage, his three-year-old son had been cleaning the same car long enough to believe dinner depended on making it perfect.
Leo sat weakly on the front hood of the black luxury sedan.
His clothes were filthy.
His tiny hands gripped a wet rag.
His eyes looked exhausted.
Helena stood beside him holding a bucket of brown, dirty water.
Without warning, she lifted it.
Then dumped the entire bucket over the child.
SPLASH.
Leo gasped.
Water poured through his light hair, soaked his already filthy clothes, and ran across the hood he had been trying to clean.
The car became dirty again.
Helena looked at him without emotion.
“YOU EAT WHEN THE CAR IS CLEAN.”
Leo’s face crumpled.
He began crying.
Then Helena snapped her fingers.
Claire, the twenty-eight-year-old housekeeper, appeared from the interior door carrying one plate of leftover food.
She kept her eyes lowered.
Helena took the plate.
For one hopeful second, Leo stared at it.
Then Helena hurled the food directly onto the car beside him.
SPLAT.
Potatoes, meat, and sauce smeared across the hood and lower windshield.
Helena pointed at the new mess.
“START AGAIN.”
Leo looked at the rag in his hand.
Then at the food he had been waiting for.
The garage door behind them was open.
A black SUV stopped outside.
Enzo entered with two bodyguards.
He took three steps into the garage—
and stopped.
His son was soaked.
Filthy.
Crying.
Sitting on the hood of a car covered in food.
Enzo crossed the garage immediately.
He carefully lifted Leo from the hood and pulled the little boy against his chest.
Leo wrapped both arms around his father’s neck.
“DAD... I HAVEN’T EATEN SINCE YESTERDAY.”
Enzo’s expression changed.
Not louder.
Colder.
He turned toward Helena.
She looked completely unconcerned.
The same black car keys spun casually around one finger.
Enzo stepped toward her.
Then drove one powerful front kick into her torso.
THUD.
Helena flew backward into the mechanic tool station.
CRASH.
Wrenches and tools scattered across the glossy floor.
The car keys hit the ground.
No second kick followed.
Enzo kept Leo securely against his chest.
Then he snapped his fingers twice.
The two bodyguards moved.
They seized Helena, carried her through the open garage entrance, and deposited her outside on the driveway.
She remained conscious.
Enzo pressed the garage-door control.
The heavy door began descending between them.
Helena stared in disbelief.
Enzo held his crying son tighter.
“The car’s still dirty. You don’t eat.”
The words hit Helena with the same logic she had used against a three-year-old.
The garage door closed in her face.
Enzo looked down at Leo.
Then he saw something that made his anger turn into something worse.
His son wasn’t asking for food anymore.
He was asking permission.
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“Daddy... am I clean enough now?”
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