Rusty, but genuine, it sounded strange in that room accustomed to silence. “Deal,” he said. And at that moment, under the dim light of the star lamp, with the rich father on the floor and the poor nanny standing, the true fortune of that house was sealed. It wasn’t in the safe, it was on the carpet. The next morning didn’t dawn like any other in the mansion. Usually, the sun streamed through the bulletproof windows, illuminating particles of dust in a mausoleum-like silence.
But today the sun seemed to shine with permission to touch everything. Don Roberto went down to the kitchen at 8 o’clock sharp, as his biological clock dictated. However, for the first time in five years, he wasn’t wearing his Italian-cut navy suit, nor his silk tie tightened around his neck like an elegant noose. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a white cotton T-shirt, clothes he had rescued from the bottom of a forgotten drawer, remnants of a time when he, too, knew what a lazy Sunday was.
Upon entering the kitchen, the smell wasn’t that of the bitter, black coffee Gertrudis used to serve him alone. It smelled of vanilla, warm milk, and toast. Elena stood there with her back to him, humming a soft tune as she stirred a pan. Nico sat in his highchair, his face smeared with fruit puree, tapping the tray with a plastic spoon. Seeing his father, the boy stopped. There was a moment of hesitation, a reflex conditioned by months of coldness, but Roberto, instead of ignoring him or asking for silence, did something that changed the atmosphere in the room.
He winked at her. “Good morning, champ,” Roberto said, approaching the highchair. Nico let out a nervous giggle and slammed his fist on the table again, this time enthusiastically. Elena turned around, surprised by the boss’s informality. “Good morning, Mr. Roberto,” she said, drying her hands on her apron. Her eyes still showed a slight trace of puffiness from crying the night before, but her gaze was clear and calm. She hadn’t known he’d be down so early. The coffee is almost ready.
“I don’t want coffee,” Elena replied, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs, not at the head of the formal dining room table. “Today I want whatever they’re having.” Elena smiled. A smile that lit up the kitchen, brighter than the halogen lights. “Banana puree with cookies,” she asked playfully. “If that’s what gives me the energy to keep up with these two, then yes, puree,” Roberto said, taking the spoon Nico offered him. That breakfast marked the end of one era and the beginning of another.
There were no business meetings, no calls to Geneva. Roberto spent the morning learning, and it was the hardest lesson of his life. He discovered that running a multinational was child’s play compared to changing a diaper on the go or convincing Santi not to stick a piece of his ego up his nose. Mid-morning, the front doorbell rang. The sharp sound echoed through the house. Roberto tensed. Elena, who was on the floor helping Santi stretch his legs, looked up fearfully.
“It must be her,” Elena whispered. Gertrudis had threatened to come back for the rest of her things. Roberto stood up. His posture shifted. The playful father vanished for a moment, replaced by the steely man. But this time, the steel was a shield for his family. “Stay here,” he ordered gently. “I’ll handle this.” Roberto walked toward the entrance. When he opened the door, he didn’t find Gertrudis, but a messenger with a box, and behind him, on the sidewalk, a patrol car that had come to take a statement regarding the attempted robbery complaint that Gertrudis, in her frenzy of revenge, had tried to file against Elena that very morning, alleging that the dismissal was unfair.
The old woman’s audacity knew no bounds. Even outside the house, she continued to manipulate reality. Roberto went out onto the porch. The police officer approached, notebook in hand. “Good morning, sir. We have a complaint from a woman named Gertrudis M. She says her employee verbally assaulted her and stole from her.” Roberto raised his hand, stopping the officer with a gesture of absolute authority. “Officer,” Roberto said calmly. “Mrs. Gertrudis was fired yesterday for repeated theft and defamation.”
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