Chapter 177

Chapter 177
Beatrice's POV:

I wasn't surprised when Salvatore and Matteo left the café instead of ordering anything. Matteo had gotten what he'd come for—a chance to vent his frustrations to his brother. I stood by the window, watching them stride across the parking lot to Salvatore's gleaming black Lamborghini. Just before climbing in, Matteo turned and looked back at me, our eyes meeting for a brief moment. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between regret and resignation.

I sighed and turned away. Whatever complicated feelings existed between us weren't going to be resolved today. The heaviness in my chest had become a familiar companion lately, an ever-present reminder of everything I'd lost. The mansion, the security, and most painfully, Enzo. His absence was a void that nothing seemed to fill, not even the distraction of mundane work at the café.

As I headed toward the kitchen, Amelia cornered me, her normally pleasant face pinched with worry.

"Where's Marisa?" she demanded, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. "I can't find her anywhere."

"I don't know," I said, genuinely confused. "When I came out of the bathroom, she was gone."

Amelia's eyes narrowed. "She never leaves like this. Never. She knows better." There was something in her tone—a mixture of concern and anger—that made me uneasy.

I shrugged, trying to ease the tension. "Maybe she went home to get something? She seemed fine earlier."

Amelia opened her mouth to respond when her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she read the message.

"Well?" I asked, curious about the sudden change in her demeanor.

"She did go home to get something," Amelia said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Something about her sudden shift felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on what.

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Amelia, can I take a short break? Ten minutes, tops."

She frowned. "What for?"

"I have something personal to take care of," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I needed to make that call to Dante, and I didn't want to explain why.

Amelia studied me for a long moment, her eyes calculating. "Fine, go! But be back in a few minutes," she said, her tone making it clear she was doing me a huge favor. "We're short-staffed as it is."

I nodded and quickly headed for the back door before she could change her mind. The air outside was crisp, a light breeze stirring the tall grass that surrounded the back of the café. The sky above was a perfect blue, making the murky shadows between the grass stalks seem even darker by contrast. I was halfway to the street when movement caught my eye.

A figure stood at the edge of the tall grass, watching me. Maxwell.

My blood ran cold. Amelia had told me repeatedly that Maxwell never walked through the high grass, claiming he was afraid of it. Yet here he was, standing perfectly still, his vacant eyes fixed on me. When he saw me notice him, he didn't flinch or move—just kept staring with that eerie, empty gaze that seemed to bore into my soul.

I rushed back inside, nearly colliding with Amelia who was arranging pastries in the display case.

"Maxwell is outside," I blurted out, my heart still racing.

The effect was immediate. Amelia's body visibly trembled, and the smile she'd been wearing vanished instantly.

"What? My Maxwell?" Her voice had gone sharp, disbelieving.

"Yes, he's standing at the edge of the high grass, watching the café."

Amelia abandoned the pastries and rushed toward the door, with me following close behind. By the time we got outside, Maxwell was nowhere to be seen, having melted back into the surroundings like a ghost.

"He was just here," I insisted, pointing to where I'd spotted him. "He went around that corner."

Amelia's eyes narrowed as she scanned the empty street. "Are you trying to make my son look like a sneaky liar?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"What? No, I—"

"Listen, young lady!" She jabbed a finger toward my chest. "I've been nice to you since you came to work here. I've given you breaks when you needed them. I've been understanding about your... situation." She practically spat the last word. "But I won't have you making up stories about my son."

"I wasn't making—"

"Now go do whatever you wanted to do and come back to work." She turned on her heel and marched back into the café, leaving me standing there, shocked at her sudden hostility.

I walked quickly to the phone booth on the corner, fumbling with the coins in my pocket. My hands were shaking as I dialed Dante's number. After four rings, he picked up.

"Hmm?" He sounded like he'd just woken up, or maybe he was drunk. It was hard to tell.

“I-,” before I could even make a noise and tell him it was me calling him, I heard someone from behind him that stopped me from uttering a word.

“Come back to bed. Who is calling you so early in the morning?” The girl sounded annoyed when questioning Dante.

My stomach twisted. Of course he was with someone. I shouldn't have expected anything else.

"I'll be back after I take this call," Dante said, his voice low and distant.

"No! You won't," the woman snapped. There was a rustling sound, and then her voice was directly in my ear. "Today no one interrupts us. Whoever this is, call later."

The line went dead with a harsh beep.

I stood in the booth, the receiver still pressed to my ear, unsure what to do next. I could try calling again, but the thought of interrupting Dante and his... guest... made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Besides, the woman had made it clear they didn't want to be disturbed.

I hung up the phone and leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the booth.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the booth and headed back to the café.