Chapter 178

Chapter 178
Beatrice's POV:

I pushed open the door to Heartfelt Café, the little bell above jingling cheerfully as if mocking my mood. After my failed attempt to reach Dante and that uncomfortable encounter with Maxwell, I'd hoped for a few minutes to compose myself. Instead, the first person I saw was someone I'd been praying to avoid—Franco Valenti.

He was leaning against the counter, his expensive leather jacket somehow making our modest café look even shabbier. His dark hair was slicked back, and that same smug smile I'd grown to hate played on his lips as he spoke to Amelia.

"The waitress is very unprofessional," he was saying, gesturing in my direction without actually looking at me. "Leaving her post, making personal calls. You should really consider better hiring practices."

Amelia's eyes darted nervously between us. I could see the conflict on her face—wanting to defend her employee but not willing to antagonize someone from the Valenti family.

"I'll handle this, Amelia," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as I approached them. "Franco was just leaving, weren't you?"

Franco turned, feigning surprise at my presence. "Well, look who decided to come back to work. I was beginning to think you'd run off again." His eyes traveled over my waitress uniform with undisguised contempt. "This new look suits you, though. More... authentic than all those designer clothes you used to parade around in."

I ignored the jab, though it stung more than I wanted to admit. The loss of my previous life—the beautiful dresses, the security, the comfort—was still a fresh wound.

"What are you doing here, Franco? Didn't your father give you enough busywork to keep you occupied?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "I'm surprised you have the nerve to mention my father after what you did."

"What I did?" I scoffed, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "And what exactly did I do, Franco? Fall victim to your blackmail? Try to protect the people I care about while you manipulated everyone?"

Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that only I could hear. "Was it worth it? Losing everything for the little games you played?"

I matched his stance, refusing to back down. "How's the new position treating you? Is it everything you hoped for? Too low on the totem pole or too much responsibility?"

A flash of anger crossed his face, quickly replaced by that practiced smile. "Actually, I'm quite comfortable with my new... arrangements. Which is more than I can say for you." His gaze swept around the café. "Tell me, did they at least give you employee housing, or are you sleeping in one of those cardboard boxes I saw down the street?"

I noticed several customers were staring now, whispering behind their hands. Great. Just what I needed—to be the subject of more gossip.

"Is there something you actually wanted to order, or did you just come here to harass me?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Franco's smile widened, and he reached into his jacket pocket. "Actually, I came to personally invite you to a special event." He pulled out an envelope and tossed it onto the counter between us. "I'm going to officially propose to Maria at her twentieth birthday party. I thought you might want to witness the happy occasion."

The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Not because I had any feelings for Franco—God, no—but because it represented another step in his ascension, another piece of my old life he was claiming as his own.

"Your café has been hired to provide desserts for the party," he continued, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "We've already paid the deposit."

I picked up the envelope, feeling the heavy cardstock between my fingers. "How thoughtful of you to include me."

"I wouldn't miss having you there for the world," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "After all, we share so many... intimate memories."

I leaned in, lowering my voice. "I'll be there, Franco. And I promise you'll remember your big day for reasons you never expected."

Something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps—before he shrugged it off with a laugh. "Always so dramatic." He adjusted his jacket and turned to leave. "See you at the party, Beatrice. Try not to spill anything on the guests."

As the door closed behind him, I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Are you okay?" Amelia asked, concern finally replacing the nervousness on her face.

"Fine," I muttered, though I was anything but. "Just another day in paradise."

Amelia ushered me toward the kitchen.

In the kitchen, she pulled out a clipboard with a detailed order list. "About the party he mentioned... It's a big order. Apparently, all the brothers are officially taking over their territories soon. They'll be moving out of the Long Island mansion in a few months to manage their own areas."

"Moving out?" I repeated, surprised by the news. The brothers had always lived together under Antonio's roof.

Amelia nodded. "We need to deliver desserts to the mansion for a celebration of this new beginning." She hesitated. "I was hoping Marisa would be back by now to help me deliver everything, but she's still not answering her phone."

"I could go with you," I offered, surprising myself. The thought of returning to the mansion sent a chill down my spine, but something in me needed to see it—and them—one more time. "We could make tiramisu and those almond cookies. The brothers used to love those."

"You would do that?" Amelia looked skeptical. "After everything that happened?"

I shrugged, trying to seem more casual than I felt. "It's just a delivery. Besides, I doubt Ezra will be much help. He's probably out somewhere hitting on women half his age."

The memory of my encounter with Ezra made my skin crawl, but I pushed it aside. I had bigger concerns now—like what Franco was planning, and why he'd made a point of inviting me to witness his proposal.

Whatever game he was playing, I needed to be ready. And somehow, going back to the mansion felt like a necessary step in reclaiming some part of myself that I'd left behind.