Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE WITH THE BLUE DOOR
I stared at the child's drawing, the heavy silver key pressing into my palm.
Bring it tomorrow.
It wasn't a request; it was a summons. I barely slept that night in my cramped Queens apartment. I kept looking at the key sitting on my cheap laminate nightstand. Why would Brooklyn’s most dangerous man leave me a key and a child’s drawing?
The next morning, I arrived at Bellavista for my opening shift, dark circles under my eyes. Before I could even tie my apron, Daniel called me into his cramped back office.
"You're done, Olivia," he said, not looking up from his clipboard.
I froze. "What? Daniel, please, I haven't done anything wrong. I was just helping—"
"I don't care what you were doing," Daniel snapped, his face flushed. "You made a scene with Gabriel Moretti. His associates called this morning. They were very clear. You don't work here anymore."
"They got me fired?" The injustice of it burned in my chest. I had refused his money, so he took my livelihood. "I need this job, Daniel. My mother is sick."
"Leave your apron on the desk," Daniel said coldly.
I walked out of the restaurant into the biting morning air, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. I had twelve dollars left. My rent was due in four days. I pulled the child's drawing from my coat pocket and looked at the address.
I didn't have a choice. I was going to give Gabriel Moretti a piece of my mind, and demand he give me my job back.
The address led me to a massive, gated estate in a secluded part of Staten Island. The wrought-iron gates stood open, as if expecting me. I walked up the sweeping driveway, my cheap boots crunching on the gravel.
There it was. The house from the drawing. It was a sprawling stone mansion, and right in the center was a massive, imposing, bright blue door.
Before I could knock, the door swung open.
Gabriel stood there. He wasn't wearing a suit today, just a dark sweater with the sleeves pushed up, revealing faded ink on his forearms. He looked less like a mob boss and more like a tired father.
"You came," he said. His voice lacked the cold edge from the restaurant.
"You got me fired," I fired back, my anger overriding my fear. "I helped your mother, I refused your money, and you took my job?"
Gabriel frowned, genuine confusion crossing his face. "Fired? I didn't get you fired. I bought the restaurant this morning."
I stopped. "You... what?"
"I bought Bellavista at eight a.m.," Gabriel said calmly. "I told the manager to clear his schedule because I was replacing him. He must have panicked and fired the staff he thought I disliked." He stepped aside. "Come inside, Olivia. We have things to discuss."
I hesitated, clutching the key in my pocket, but stepped into the grand foyer. The house was beautiful, but it felt incredibly empty.
"My mother hasn't stopped talking about you," Gabriel said, walking me toward a sunlit library. "She’s... declining. The arthritis is the least of it. Her memory is slipping. Her doctors say she needs a full-time companion. Someone who doesn't look at her with pity."
He stopped and turned to me. "I want to hire you."
"To be her nurse?"
"To be her friend," he corrected softly. "I'll pay you triple what you made at the restaurant. Full medical coverage for you and your mother."
It was a lifeline. It was a miracle. But my instincts screamed that nothing in Gabriel Moretti's world came without a catch.
"Why me?" I asked.
Before he could answer, a small figure darted into the room. It was a little boy, no older than six, with Gabriel’s dark hair but large, terrified brown eyes. He hid behind Gabriel’s leg, peering at me.
"This is Leo," Gabriel said, his voice softening entirely. He gently rested a hand on the boy's head. "Leo doesn't speak. Not since his mother passed away."
I knelt down slowly, making myself smaller. "Hi, Leo," I whispered.
Leo stared at me. Then, his eyes dropped to my coat pocket. He slowly stepped out from behind his father, reached out, and pointed directly at my pocket.
The pocket holding the silver key.
Gabriel stiffened. "Where did you get that key?" His voice was suddenly sharp, dangerous again.
"Your mother left it on the table last night," I said, my heart pounding.
Gabriel’s face drained of color. "That's impossible. I confiscated that key from her two months ago."
May you like
He looked toward the grand staircase. At the top stood Bella, wearing her pearls, looking down at us. Her eyes were sharp, perfectly lucid, and fixed on me.
"She has the key, Gabriel," Bella called out, her voice echoing in the grand hall. "Now, she has to see what's inside the box."
