Chapter 2 - AFTERMATH AND ACCUMULATED DEBTS
By midnight, the mansion was entirely quiet, but the atmosphere inside felt completely altered.
The guest suite that Bianca had occupied for the past month was stripped clean. Her expensive luggage, her designer shoes, and her French perfumes had been unceremoniously packed into three black trunks and delivered to the Moretti estate in downtown Albany.
I sat on the edge of a narrow bed in the staff quarters, holding an ice pack against the right side of my face. My cheek felt swollen to the size of a grapefruit, and every time I swallowed, my jaw throbbed with a dull, sickening pain.
A knock sounded at the heavy oak door.
I started, quickly pulling my oversized sweater tighter around myself. "Who is it?"
The door opened before I could stand up.
Dominic walked in. He had removed his tuxedo jacket and tie, leaving the top two buttons of his black dress shirt unbuttoned. In his right hand, he held a dark wooden box; in his left, a white ceramic mug steaming with hot tea.
"Mr. Rossi," I stammered, scrambling to my feet. "You... you shouldn't be down in the staff wing."
"Sit down, Skylar," he said calmly.
He didn't wait for my permission. He pulled the small wooden desk chair over to my bed, set the mug of chamomile tea on my bedside table, and opened the wooden box. Inside were professional medical salves, sterile gauze, and prescription-grade pain medication.
"I called Dr. Vance," Dominic said, pulling a pair of medical gloves onto his large hands. "He wanted to take you to the hospital for stitches, but I told him you'd prefer not to deal with a public emergency room tonight. Was I wrong?"
"No, sir," I whispered, lowering my eyes. "I... hospital visits are expensive. I can't afford a emergency co-pay right now."
Dominic paused, his fingers hovering over a tube of antiseptic cream. He looked at me for a long moment, his intense gaze taking in my worn flannel pajama bottoms, my oversized faded sweater, and the terrible purple bruise blooming across my fair skin.
"You will never have to worry about a medical bill again, Skylar," Dominic said softly. His tone wasn't patronizing; it was an absolute statement of fact. "Not for yourself, and not for your father."
My head snapped up so fast my neck popped. "How do you... how do you know about my father?"
"I run a private intelligence network," he replied simply, squeezing a small ribbon of clear gel onto a piece of sterile gauze. "When I hire someone to work under the same roof as my mother, I know everything about them. I know your father has stage three kidney failure. I know you send 80% of your paycheck to the dialysis clinic in Albany every two weeks. And I know you skip meals in the staff cafeteria to save twenty dollars a week."
I felt hot tears spring to my eyes, burning against the raw skin of my face. "I'm not asking for charity, Mr. Rossi. I work hard for my pay."
"I know you do," Dominic said gently. He leaned forward, his massive frame blocking out the cold light of the hallway as he carefully applied the cool gauze to my swollen cheek. "You work harder than anyone in this house. You tolerate insults from people who aren't worthy to clean your shoes, and you took a blow meant for my mother without a second thought."
His fingers were surprisingly light. For a man whose reputation was built on ruthlessness and fear, his touch was as soft as a feather.
"Why did you do it, Skylar?" he asked, his dark eyes hovering just inches from mine. "Why risk your safety for Carmela?"
I swallowed hard, looking down at his dark shirt buttons. "Because she's kind to me. When everyone else laughed at me... when they called me 'Penny' and left broken glass for me to clean up... Mrs. Rossi touched my wrist and told me I had a real heart. She treated me like a human being, Mr. Rossi. I don't have many people who do that."
Dominic’s jaw tightened so hard I heard his teeth grind.
"They won't call you Penny anymore," he said, his voice laced with a dark, promise-filled edge. "And if anyone in this house ever treats you with anything less than absolute respect, they will answer to me personally."
"Mr. Rossi, please—"
"Drink your tea," he commanded gently, standing up and closing the wooden medical box. "Take two of the blue pills. Tomorrow, you are off duty. Dr. Vance will be back at eight in the morning to check your cheek."
"I have to work tomorrow, sir," I protested, panic rising in my chest. "The morning prep—"
"Skylar," Dominic interrupted, stopping at the door and turning to face me. "You are no longer a maid at the Rossi estate."
My heart plummeted straight into my stomach. I felt cold all over. "Are you... are you firing me?"
Dominic looked at me, a strange, unreadable emotion passing over his sharp features.
May you like
"No," he said softly. "As of midnight, you are my mother's personal companion and care administrator. Your salary is quadrupled, your father's medical bills are officially covered by the Rossi Family Trust, and your quarters are being moved to the main wing on the second floor tomorrow morning."
Before I could process his words, before I could even manage to form a coherent sentence, Dominic stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
