Chapter 8 - The Morning SunJune 16th.
The morning sun broke through the tall windows of the Moretti estate, casting warm, golden rectangles across the polished marble floors of the grand hall.
Serena Rossi stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling as she wiped down the counter. Her heart was heavy. She had heard the whispers among the guards late last night—Marco Rossi was gone, arrested for treason, and the estate was locked down by armed security. She feared that her daughter’s intrusion yesterday had somehow triggered a disaster.
Footsteps echoed softly on the tiles.
Serena turned around, dropping her cleaning rag.
Don Moretti stood in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his usual dark, formidable scowl. He looked tired, but the crushing weight that had bowed his shoulders for three years seemed finally lifted.
In his hands, he held a small, beautifully wrapped package tied with a silver ribbon.
“Serena,” he said calmly.
“Sir,” Serena stammered, bowing her head. “Please... if Emma did something wrong yesterday, I take full responsibility—”
“Emma did nothing wrong,” Alessandro interrupted gently. He walked over to the kitchen island and set the small package down.
Serena cautiously untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside sat a brand-new, professional-grade pastry chef kit, complete with high-end tools, cookbooks, and a small note written in elegant handwriting.
“For the best baker on the estate. From Don Moretti.”
May you like
Serena looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “I... I don’t know what to say, sir.”
“Say nothing,” Alessandro smiled faintly. “And tell Emma... her cake was terrible. But it saved my life.”
