Chapter 2
Patricia Moretti arrived twenty minutes later.
Not frightened.
Offended.
That was worse.
She walked through the destroyed patio wearing pearls and an expression usually reserved for servants who broke expensive glassware.
Then she saw Ethan in Emily’s arms.
Her mouth tightened.
“So you let him loose.”
Emily stared.
“Loose?”
Patricia sighed.
“Don't start.”
Emily looked at Ethan.
He pressed closer.
Patricia saw it.
Instead of concern, she rolled her eyes.
“There.”
She pointed.
“That pathetic behavior.”
Emily’s expression hardened.
“He is six.”
“He is manipulative.”
Ryan climbed into a chair nearby.
His lip was split.
Natalie remained beside him.
Patricia looked at both of them.
Then at Emily.
“You come home unexpectedly, destroy half the patio and frighten everyone.”
Emily almost smiled.
“Interesting version.”
Patricia ignored that.
She looked at Ethan.
“Tell your mother why you were outside.”
The boy stared at the floor.
“Ethan.”
His grandmother’s voice sharpened.
“Tell her.”
Emily spoke quietly.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You don't have to answer her.”
Patricia laughed.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
She looked at Emily.
“You disappear for five years and now you're teaching him rules don't matter?”
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“What rule puts a chain on a child?”
“He ran toward the road twice.”
Ryan nodded.
“Three times.”
Ethan shook his head.
Ryan’s face sharpened.
“You want to lie now?”
The boy immediately stopped moving.
Emily saw it.
Patricia continued.
“The chain was temporary.”
Natalie smirked.
“Dogs learn faster, frankly.”
Emily looked at her.
Natalie shrugged.
“What? He had food.”
Emily glanced toward the dry bread beside the dog bowl.
“That?”
“He refused dinner.”
Ethan whispered:
“No.”
Natalie leaned forward.
“Oh, stop whining.”
She mocked his trembling voice.
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.”
Then laughed.
“You said that for years.”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
Natalie continued.
“Guess what? She didn't come.”
Emily stood.
Natalie stopped smiling.
Patricia stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Emily looked at her.
“Yes.”
Patricia seemed relieved.
Emily continued.
“Enough from you.”
The older woman froze.
Emily turned toward Ethan.
“What happened when you asked for food?”
He hesitated.
Ryan answered.
“He ate when we decided he earned it.”
Emily looked at him.
“Earned?”
Ryan shrugged.
“Behavior has consequences.”
“He's six.”
“And old enough to understand that crying doesn't fill a plate.”
Patricia nodded.
“That’s how boys learn strength.”
Ethan whispered:
“Grandma said babies eat first.”
Emily looked at Patricia.
“What?”
Patricia smiled coldly.
“Lucas is eight months old.”
“He needs attention.”
“Natalie needs help.”
“And Ethan needs to stop expecting the house to revolve around him.”
Emily’s voice dropped.
“He was here first.”
Natalie laughed.
“And his mother wasn't.”
There.
That sentence had been used many times.
Emily could hear it.
Ethan had heard it enough to believe absence meant rejection.
She crouched.
“What did they tell you about me?”
The boy looked terrified.
Ryan spoke sharply.
“Don't.”
Emily looked up.
Interesting.
“Ethan.”
He swallowed.
“Dad said you picked work.”
Emily felt the words physically.
Natalie smiled.
“True.”
Ethan continued.
“He said every time I cried for you, you stayed gone another month.”
Emily looked at Ryan.
He did not deny it.
Instead:
“You were gone.”
“I called.”
“No.”
Ryan smiled.
“You tried.”
Emily went still.
“What does that mean?”
Patricia looked at Ryan.
Too quickly.
Emily caught it.
She stood.
“I called Ethan every week.”
Ryan shrugged.
“He was sleeping.”
“For five years?”
“He was busy.”
“I sent recordings.”
No answer.
“Birthday messages.”
Silence.
“Christmas messages.”
Patricia sighed.
“Emily, overseas sentimentality doesn't raise a child.”
Her voice became crueler.
“Maybe you should have thought about motherhood before disappearing across an ocean.”
Emily stared.
Patricia continued.
“You wanted to be boss.”
“This is the cost.”
Ethan looked at Emily.
His little face was breaking.
Emily knelt again.
“Did you ever hear my messages?”
He shook his head.
“Any?”
“No.”
Ryan looked away.
That was enough.
Emily stood.
“Where are they?”
Ryan laughed.
“Probably deleted.”
“By whom?”
“No idea.”
Natalie smiled.
“Maybe your son got tired of hearing excuses.”
Ethan shook his head urgently.
“I never heard Mommy.”
Emily watched Natalie’s face.
Not annoyance.
Amusement.
She knew.
Then Ethan whispered:
“Dad used the black phone.”
Emily turned.
“What black phone?”
“The one with your picture.”
Ryan stood.
“That’s enough.”
Emily looked at him.
Ethan continued:
“Dad said it made Mommy stay away.”
Ryan crossed the patio.
Emily stepped between him and Ethan.
“What phone?”
Patricia suddenly spoke.
“He means nothing.”
Too fast.
Emily looked at her.
Then Ryan.
Then Natalie.
Three adults.
One frightened child.
And all three suddenly cared very much about the same black phone.
Emily’s expression changed.
The Moretti overseas line had been built around one secure handset.
Only the acting underboss could authenticate emergency messages from home.
May you like
Ryan had controlled it for five years.
For the first time, Emily wondered whether she had been kept overseas intentionally.
