Chapter 7 - Breakfast in the Kitchen
By eight o’clock in the morning, the oppressive shadow that had hung over the Moretti mansion for months seemed to have lifted just a fraction. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the sprawling lawns and wrought-iron gates glistening under a crisp, pale October sun.
I was standing at the massive marble island in the industrial kitchen, flipping golden-brown pancakes and frying bacon, when I heard the soft, hesitant scuff of sneakers on the tile floor.
I looked up.
Samuel stood in the doorway. He had changed out of his damp school clothes and was wearing a clean gray hoodie and soft sweatpants that Luca must have bought him. His dark hair was brushed, and though there were still faint dark circles under his eyes from months of stress and sleepless nights, the haunted, defeated look in his expression was completely gone.
In his hands, he was still holding the old, frayed brown wool coat.
"Morning, Sammy," I smiled warmly, wiping my hands on a dish towel. "Did you sleep okay?"
The boy nodded softly, walking slowly toward the island and resting the coat carefully over the back of a barstool. "Better than I have in a long time. The bed didn't feel... empty."
"I'm glad," I said, sliding a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, and pancakes across the counter toward him. "Eat up. You need to put some meat on those bones. Your brother's orders."
Samuel climbed onto the stool, his eyes lighting up at the food, but before he took a bite, he looked up at me with a serious expression. "Where's Luca?"
"He's in the study," I replied, pouring a fresh cup of coffee. "He's been on the phone with lawyers and police captains all morning. Big things are happening today, Sammy. Things that are going to make sure you never have to worry about being sent away again."
Before Samuel could ask what I meant, the kitchen doors swung open, and Luca walked in.
He had changed out of his suit into a simple black cashmere sweater and dark jeans. He looked tired—the heavy shadows beneath his amber eyes revealed the toll of a sleepless night—but as soon as his gaze landed on his little brother sitting at the kitchen island eating breakfast, a genuine, soft smile broke across his face.
"Morning, buddy," Luca said, walking over and ruffling Samuel’s dark hair affectionately.
"Morning, Luca," Samuel mumbled around a mouthful of pancake. "Hannah made breakfast."
"I see that," Luca chuckled, pulling up the stool beside his brother. He looked up at me, his eyes softening. "Thank you, Hannah. For everything. You didn't just stand by last night; you held this family together when it was falling apart."
"Just doing my job, Mr. Moretti," I replied, feeling a strange, unfamiliar warmth bloom in my chest at the genuine appreciation in his voice.
"It's more than a job now, Hannah," Luca said quietly, his gaze holding mine for a beat too long before he turned back to Samuel. "Listen, Sammy. Today, some things are going to change around here. Vanessa is gone. She’s not coming back. And the people who helped her... well, the police are taking care of them."
Samuel stopped chewing, his eyes widening. "She's really gone?"
"Really gone," Luca confirmed firmly. "And your room is yours. Your baseball trophies are back on your shelf where they belong. And tomorrow morning, you are going back to your regular school, in your own neighborhood, with your friends. No more Aunt June's. No more hiding."
For a second, Samuel just stared at his older brother, as if waiting for the catch, waiting for someone to tell him it was all a cruel joke. Then, slowly, a massive, brilliant smile broke across his face—a smile that transformed the fourteen-year-old boy into someone who looked young, carefree, and genuinely happy for the first time in ten months.
He dropped his fork and threw his arms around Luca’s neck, nearly knocking the mafia boss off his stool.
"Thank you, Luca! Thank you!" Samuel sobbed happily into his brother's shoulder.
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Luca held him tight, closing his eyes as a single tear slipped down his own cheek. "I'm the one who should be thanking you, buddy. For reminding me of what actually matters."
I stood quietly by the stove, watching the two of them, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over the grand mansion. The storm had passed, the lies had been exposed, and the house on the hill finally felt like a home again.
