Chapter 1 - A Path of White Napkins
“TAKE THOSE CHEAP SHOES OFF! I WON'T HAVE A SERVANT MAKING NOISE AT MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE SNAPPED THE HEEL OFF HIS 23-YEAR-OLD MAID'S SHOE AND FORCED HER TO SERVE THIRTY GUESTS BAREFOOT—BUT WHEN HIS SEVEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER BEGAN LAYING WHITE DINNER NAPKINS ACROSS THE MARBLE FLOOR, THE MAFIA BOSS ASKED HER WHAT SHE WAS DOING. “MAKING A SAFE PATH FOR EMILY, DADDY. HER FEET ARE BLEEDING.”
The first thing Dominic Moretti noticed was the blood.
Three tiny red marks on the white marble beneath his dining table.
Then he saw his daughter kneeling beside a young woman in a black maid's uniform, carefully spreading expensive linen napkins across the floor.
“Isabella?”
The seven-year-old looked up.
“Daddy, don't step there.”
Dominic stopped.
“Why not, sweetheart?”
“Because Emily doesn't have shoes anymore.”
Twenty-nine guests turned toward the little girl.
At the far end of the banquet table, Vanessa Carlisle sat perfectly composed in her crimson satin gown, a diamond necklace sparkling above her collarbone.
“Dominic, darling, please don't encourage this nonsense.”
But Dominic wasn't looking at his fiancée.
He was looking at Emily Parker.
The twenty-three-year-old housemaid stood beside his daughter's chair, holding a silver serving tray with both hands.
Her cheeks were bright red.
Her lower lip trembled.
And beneath the hem of her modest black uniform, her bare feet pressed nervously against the cold marble.
One heel was bleeding.
“Emily,” Dominic said quietly. “Where are your shoes?”
She glanced at Vanessa.
“It's all right, sir.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Before Emily could answer, Vanessa laughed.
“Oh, for heaven's sake. You should have heard those dreadful shoes squeaking across the floor. I simply asked her to remove them until dinner was finished.”
Dominic looked toward the sideboard.
There, beside a silver champagne bucket, sat a pair of worn black shoes.
One heel had been broken completely off.
He picked it up.
“Who did this?”
Vanessa shrugged.
“They were practically falling apart anyway.”
Emily stared at the floor.
She had worn those shoes to work for eleven months.
Last week, she'd taken them to a little repair shop because she couldn't afford another pair before payday.
The elderly shoemaker had charged her six dollars to fix the loose heel.
She'd been so relieved when they lasted through her morning shift.
But during dinner, one shoe had made a faint squeaking sound as she carried a platter of roasted vegetables past Vanessa's chair.
“Stop that awful noise,” Vanessa had snapped.
Emily apologized immediately.
She tried walking more carefully.
The squeak came again.
Vanessa stood, caught Emily by the arm, and pointed at her feet.
“Do you expect my guests to listen to that all evening?”
“I'm sorry, Miss Carlisle. I can change into another pair after I finish serving—”
“Take them off.”
Emily hesitated.
“Ma'am?”
“Now.”
Thirty people watched as the young maid bent down and loosened her shoes.
When Vanessa noticed the repaired heel, she gave a cruel little smile.
“Good Lord. Are these held together with glue?”
She grabbed one shoe.
Before Emily could stop her, Vanessa twisted the heel sharply.
It snapped.
A few guests gasped.
Vanessa dropped the ruined shoe beside the champagne bucket.
“There. Now you have a reason to buy something respectable.”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
But she said nothing.
She simply removed her other shoe, straightened her apron, and continued serving.
Ten minutes later, a guest accidentally broke a crystal water glass near the dining table.
Emily had swept up the pieces.
She hadn't noticed the tiny fragment left beneath her foot until she stepped on it.
And even then, she hadn't cried out.
Because Vanessa had already warned her that one more interruption would cost her the job.
Now Dominic stood holding the broken shoe, his expression unreadable.
“Emily,” he asked, “why didn't you tell me?”
The young maid swallowed.
“I didn't want to spoil your engagement dinner, sir.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“See? She's perfectly fine. Honestly, Dominic, you're making an enormous fuss over a pair of cheap shoes.”
Little Isabella stood up.
“They weren't cheap to Emily.”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Isabella, sit down.”
The child flinched.
But she didn't sit.
Instead, she reached into the pocket of her cream-colored dress and pulled out a folded white napkin.
She placed it gently beneath Emily's injured foot.
“Emily told Mrs. Dawson she couldn't buy new shoes because she sent her paycheck home to help her daddy,” Isabella whispered.
Emily closed her eyes.
“Sweetheart, you don't need to explain—”
“But it's true.”
Isabella looked at her father.
“She said her daddy can't work right now. That's why she fixes things instead of buying new ones.”
The child's little face crumpled.
“And Vanessa laughed at her.”
Dominic looked at Emily.
For the first time, he noticed how tightly she was gripping the serving tray to keep her hands from shaking.
“Put that down,” he said gently.
Emily obeyed.
Dominic pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
“Sir, the guests—”
“Can wait.”
He crouched beside her and examined the small cut on her heel.
Then he removed his black suit jacket and draped it over her trembling shoulders.
Vanessa shot to her feet.
“Dominic! That is a three-thousand-dollar jacket!”
He didn't even turn around.
“Then it should be warm enough.”
A guest near the fireplace lowered his glass.
Someone else quietly pushed back a chair.
Dominic looked toward his household manager.
“Please bring the first-aid kit. And have someone fetch Emily a comfortable pair of shoes.”
Then he turned to Vanessa.
“Did you break her shoe?”
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“It was already damaged.”
“Did you break it?”
A long silence followed.
Finally, she snapped, “Fine! Yes! I broke a cheap shoe. Are you satisfied?”
Dominic stood.
“Not remotely.”
Vanessa gestured toward the guests.
“You're humiliating me in front of everyone!”
Emily's head dropped.
“Please, Mr. Moretti. I don't want anyone to fight because of me.”
That was when Isabella slipped her little hand into Emily's.
“It's not because of you,” she whispered.
Then she looked at Vanessa.
“You told Emily she should be grateful we let her inside our house.”
Vanessa froze.
Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
“But Daddy, Emily makes my breakfast. She helps me when I'm scared. She stays with me when I have bad dreams.”
Her voice cracked.
“Why is she good enough to take care of me, but not good enough to wear shoes in our dining room?”
Nobody at the table moved.
Dominic stared at his daughter.
Then he turned toward Vanessa.
The woman who had spent the evening smiling for their engagement photographs suddenly looked very small.
“Dominic,” she whispered, “surely you're not choosing a servant over your future wife.”
He glanced down at Emily's bleeding foot.
Then at his daughter, still holding her hand.
“No, Vanessa. I'm deciding whether the woman I planned to marry has any place in a home where my daughter is learning how to treat people.”
Vanessa's face went pale.
Dominic carefully placed the broken shoe on the white tablecloth beside her diamond engagement ring.
“Look at it.”
She refused.
“Vanessa.”
Slowly, she lowered her eyes.
He spoke quietly enough that the entire table had to strain to hear.
“You broke something she couldn't afford to replace, made her walk barefoot until she bled, and then called her worthless because she was too frightened to complain.”
Isabella moved closer to Emily.
Dominic looked at the little girl and then back at his fiancée.
“My seven-year-old daughter understood that she needed help. Thirty adults watched it happen. And you were the one who caused it.”
Vanessa opened her mouth, but no words came.
Then Dominic reached toward the engagement ring she had been proudly showing the guests all evening.
May you like
And asked one final question.
“Tell me, Vanessa—if this is how you treat someone who has no power over you, what kind of mother were you planning to be to my daughter?”
