Chapter 1 - The Widow's Humiliation
“Take that apron off her, Claire. She looks ridiculous.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the towering champagne tower, swirling a crystal flute in her hand. She stared with absolute disgust at the sixty-three-year-old woman holding a heavy silver serving tray.
Mrs. Rosa Marino was wearing a plain, conservative black dress. It wasn't a catering uniform. It was the exact same dress she had worn to her husband's funeral just six hours earlier. Rosa’s frail hands were shaking so violently that two expensive champagne glasses rattled loudly against each other, threatening to spill over the pristine marble floor.
“Please, ma'am,” I whispered, stepping between them. “She shouldn't be working tonight. She just buried Frank.”
Vanessa offered a cold, venomous smile. “Then perhaps she'd prefer to immediately pay back the twelve thousand dollars her husband owed this family.”
Rosa lowered her swollen, tear-stained eyes to the floor. “I can finish the evening, Mrs. Bellini.”
“Good,” Vanessa snapped, adjusting her diamond necklace. “Then stop trembling. You're making my guests uncomfortable.”
My name is Claire Bennett. I was a twenty-five-year-old housekeeper at the Moretti estate in Chicago, and I had never wanted to slap another human being quite so badly in my entire life.
But I needed this job. My younger brother was recovering from a terrible motorcycle accident, and my meager paycheck was the only thing keeping our mother's mortgage current.
Vanessa knew that. She knew exactly what frightened every single member of the staff.
Rosa's husband, Frank Marino, had been the personal driver for the Moretti family for twenty-nine years. He had taught the young heir, Luca, how to drive. He had attended every family birthday and every Christmas dinner. Three weeks earlier, Frank had died in what the police called a tragic "single-vehicle accident" on a dark highway.
And today, his devastated widow had lowered him into the ground. I had helped Rosa dress for the funeral that morning. She had barely eaten a crumb since.
“Claire,” Vanessa snapped her manicured fingers right in my face. “Take Mrs. Marino into the dining room. Our guests are waiting.”
I reached out to grab the heavy silver tray from Rosa. “I'll serve them myself.”
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“No.” Vanessa grabbed my wrist, leaning in close enough that only I could smell her expensive perfume.
👉 What twisted lesson is Vanessa trying to teach the grieving widow?
