Chapter 1 - The Toast They Tried to Silence
“Claire, take that microphone away from her.”
Celeste Romano stood at the head of the dinner table, her diamond engagement ring glittering beneath the chandeliers.
Eighty guests turned toward us.
Beside me, seventy-four-year-old Rosa DeLuca held three little blue index cards.
Her hands were trembling.
But she wasn't confused.
She was trying to make a toast.
“Mrs. Romano,” I said quietly, “she's been practicing for three weeks.”
Celeste laughed.
“Practicing what? Embarrassing my future husband in front of his business partners?”
Rosa lowered her eyes.
“I... want... to say...”
“Oh, for heaven's sake.”
Celeste reached across me and pulled the microphone from Rosa's hand.
“Everyone, please excuse this little interruption. Adrian's mother hasn't been herself since her stroke.”
A few guests looked away.
Rosa's chin began to tremble.
“I know... my son.”
Celeste smiled coldly.
“Of course you do, sweetheart. Now let Claire take you upstairs before you exhaust yourself.”
I felt Rosa's fingers tighten around my wrist.
“Please,” she whispered.
My name is Claire Bennett. I'm thirty, and I've worked at Adrian DeLuca's Chicago mansion for fourteen months.
Nine months earlier, Rosa had suffered a stroke.
For weeks, speaking had been terribly difficult.
Some words came slowly.
Others wouldn't come at all.
But Rosa understood what people said.
She remembered birthdays, appointments, and the names of every person who came into her room.
Her speech therapist had encouraged her to practice short sentences every day.
And every afternoon, after Celeste left the mansion, Rosa and I sat at the kitchen table with her blue index cards.
Sometimes she managed two words.
Sometimes five.
Last Tuesday, she had looked at a photograph of Adrian as a little boy and spoken an entire sentence without my help.
“My son makes me proud.”
Then she'd cried.
Not because she was sad.
Because she'd finally managed to say what she'd wanted to tell him for months.
Tonight was supposed to be her surprise.
“Claire!”
Celeste snapped her fingers.
“Wheel her out.”
Rosa didn't use a wheelchair.
She walked with a cane when she was tired.
But Celeste had ordered one brought into the dining room anyway.
She said it would make Rosa easier to manage.
I looked at the empty wheelchair beside the doorway.
Then at Rosa.
“She can walk upstairs with me, ma'am.”
Celeste's smile vanished.
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Then remember who pays your salary.”
Rosa tried to stand.
I offered my arm.
Celeste stepped in front of us.
“You're making a spectacle of yourself, Rosa. Adrian has important people here tonight.”
Rosa stared at her.
“This... is... my home.”
Celeste leaned closer.
“Not for much longer.”
I heard every word.
And suddenly, the conversation I'd overheard three nights earlier came rushing back.
Celeste had been speaking to her father in Adrian's private study.
I'd entered the hallway carrying fresh towels.
The door was slightly open.
Her father had asked, “What if the old woman refuses to cooperate?”
Celeste answered, “She won't have a choice once the court believes she can't manage her own affairs.”
Then he'd said something that made my stomach turn.
“The building has to be transferred before Friday. My investors aren't waiting another month.”
I hadn't understood what building they meant.
Not until I saw the envelope Celeste had left on the study desk.
Inside was a property survey.
And a familiar address.
The little brick bakery on Halsted Street.
Rosa's bakery.
The one she and her late husband had opened forty-three years earlier.
The one where Adrian had spent his childhood sleeping on flour sacks while his parents worked before sunrise.
Rosa had refused every offer to sell it.
She used to tell me, “That place fed my family when we had nothing.”
And now someone was trying to take it away.
“Claire.”
Celeste's voice pulled me back to the dining room.
“If you don't remove her immediately, you can pack your things tonight.”
My chest tightened.
My paycheck helped support my younger sister and her two children.
I couldn't afford to lose this job.
Then Rosa placed one of her blue cards in my palm.
On it, in shaky handwriting, were four words.
Let me tell him.
I looked at Celeste.
“Mrs. DeLuca has something she wants her son to hear.”
Celeste stared at me.
“She's not Mrs. DeLuca anymore. Her husband is dead.”
Rosa flinched.
I felt anger rise into my throat.
“She's still his mother.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“What did you just say?”
I swallowed.
“She's still his mother, ma'am.”
Celeste snatched the index cards from my hand.
One by one, she tore them in half.
Rosa made a small, wounded sound.
“My... words.”
The torn cards fluttered onto the marble floor.
Celeste pointed toward them.
“Pick those up, Claire. Then apologize for encouraging this nonsense.”
I bent down.
But not to apologize.
I gathered every piece of Rosa's cards.
And when I stood, I said, “She worked too hard for you to do that.”
Celeste raised her hand.
For a moment, I thought she was going to slap me.
Then a man's voice came from the far end of the table.
“Celeste.”
Adrian DeLuca was standing.
Forty-two years old.
Black tailored suit, dark hair, tattooed hands.
One of Chicago's most feared men.
And the only son Rosa had left.
He looked from Celeste to the torn cards in my hand.
“What's going on?”
Celeste immediately softened her voice.
“Darling, your mother insisted on speaking. I was simply trying to spare her some embarrassment.”
Adrian turned toward Rosa.
“Ma?”
Rosa stared at him.
Her eyes filled.
“I... made... a speech.”
He moved closer.
“You made a speech?”
She nodded.
“With... Claire.”
Adrian looked at me.
I held up the torn pieces.
“She practiced it for three weeks, sir.”
He studied the handwriting.
Then slowly looked at Celeste.
“You tore up my mother's speech?”
Celeste folded her arms.
“Adrian, don't be dramatic. She isn't capable of giving a proper toast.”
Rosa reached toward her son.
“I... can.”
Adrian took her hand.
“Then I'm listening, Ma.”
The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Rosa took a shaky breath.
She looked at the guests.
Then back at Adrian.
“My... beautiful... boy.”
Adrian's expression changed.
Rosa swallowed.
“I... love... you.”
His eyes filled instantly.
He knelt beside her.
“I love you too, Mama.”
She placed one hand against his cheek.
And for a few seconds, nothing else mattered.
Not the guests.
Not the diamonds.
Not the expensive champagne.
Just a mother and her son.
Then Rosa looked past him.
Toward Celeste.
Her expression tightened.
“I... never... signed... those... papers.”
Adrian frowned.
“What papers, Mom?”
Celeste went completely still.
“She's confused,” she said quickly.
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
Celeste stepped forward.
“Adrian, please. Her doctors have warned us about these episodes.”
Adrian didn't take his eyes off his mother.
“What papers?”
Rosa struggled to speak.
“Bakery.”
My heart began pounding.
I stepped closer.
“Sir, I think she's talking about the property on Halsted Street.”
Adrian looked up.
“What about it?”
Before I could answer, Celeste interrupted.
“That building is being handled through the estate attorney. Your mother agreed months ago.”
Rosa struck her cane against the floor.
“No!”
Several guests jumped.
Adrian stood.
“Celeste, what did my mother agree to?”
Celeste hesitated.
“To the sale.”
Adrian looked back at Rosa.
“You sold the bakery, Ma?”
Tears rolled down her face.
“No... sell.”
Celeste sighed dramatically.
“See? She doesn't even remember signing.”
I couldn't stay quiet any longer.
“Mr. DeLuca, may I tell you something?”
Celeste spun toward me.
“Claire, you're fired.”
Adrian didn't even look at her.
“Go ahead.”
I took a breath.
“Three nights ago, I overheard Celeste and her father discussing the bakery. They said the building had to be transferred before Friday.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“And?”
“They also discussed having your mother declared unable to manage her own affairs.”
A murmur spread through the guests.
Celeste laughed.
“This is absurd. You're going to believe a housekeeper over your own fiancée?”
Adrian turned toward her.
“Did you request a legal assessment of my mother's decision-making capacity?”
Celeste said nothing.
“Celeste.”
“I was trying to protect her finances.”
“From what?”
“She doesn't understand how much that building is worth.”
Rosa lifted her head.
“I... know.”
Adrian turned.
His mother looked directly at him.
“Forty... three... years.”
He swallowed.
“I know, Ma.”
“Your... father... built... the oven.”
Adrian closed his eyes for a moment.
Then Rosa whispered:
“Don't... let... them... take... it.”
His face hardened.
He turned to a silver-haired man seated near the fireplace.
“Mr. Keene.”
The family attorney rose.
“Yes, Adrian?”
“Have you seen any documents authorizing the sale of my mother's bakery?”
The attorney hesitated.
“I was sent copies last week.”
“By whom?”
Mr. Keene looked toward Celeste.
“Miss Romano's father.”
Celeste grabbed the back of her chair.
Adrian's voice dropped.
“Show me.”
Mr. Keene opened his leather briefcase and removed a thin folder.
He placed it on the table.
Adrian scanned the first page.
Then the second.
His eyes stopped at a signature.
“Rosa DeLuca.”
He looked at his mother.
“Ma, did you sign a power of attorney?”
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
Celeste stepped forward.
“She signed it during rehabilitation. Her memory has been unreliable.”
Mr. Keene adjusted his glasses.
“The document states that it was signed on June twelfth at the DeLuca residence.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“June twelfth?”
The attorney nodded.
“Yes.”
I looked at Adrian.
“Sir, your mother wasn't here on June twelfth.”
Celeste's face tightened.
“Claire, stop interfering.”
I continued.
“She was at the rehabilitation center in Evanston. She had a discharge planning meeting that afternoon.”
Mr. Keene glanced at the document again.
“This says the signing took place at four thirty.”
I shook my head.
“I was with her at four thirty.”
Celeste scoffed.
“And you're expecting everyone to take your word for it?”
“No, ma'am.”
I reached into the pocket of my apron.
“I kept her discharge instructions and appointment schedule in her medical folder. Mrs. DeLuca asked me to bring them tonight because she wanted her son to see how well she'd been doing.”
Adrian held out his hand.
I gave him the folded pages.
He read them.
Then turned toward his mother.
“Ma, were you ever told someone had been given permission to sell the bakery for you?”
Rosa shook her head again.
Mr. Keene spoke carefully.
“These records raise serious questions about the notarization. The signature and the document's validity will need to be independently examined.”
Adrian nodded.
“Then nobody touches that building until we've investigated.”
Celeste's father suddenly stood.
“Adrian, you're making a terrible mistake.”
Every head turned.
Elias Romano was a wealthy property developer who had been smiling through dinner.
Now he looked furious.
Adrian faced him.
“What mistake?”
Elias loosened his collar.
“Your mother has no idea how much money is at stake.”
Adrian stepped toward him.
“Then explain it.”
Elias looked at Celeste.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
But Adrian noticed.
“What are you two hiding?”
Nobody answered.
Then Mr. Keene turned another page.
His expression changed.
“Adrian, there's something else.”
“What?”
“The sale isn't the only transaction connected to this document.”
Celeste closed her eyes.
The attorney continued.
“There's also a proposed guardianship petition naming Miss Romano as the person who would make financial and residential decisions for your mother.”
Adrian went still.
“My fiancée?”
Mr. Keene nodded.
Adrian looked at Celeste.
“You tried to take legal control of my mother's life?”
Celeste's voice shook.
“She needs professional care.”
“She already has professional care.”
“Adrian, she can barely speak!”
He moved closer.
“Speaking slowly doesn't mean she can't think.”
Celeste looked away.
Adrian pointed toward Rosa.
“That woman raised three children, buried her husband, and kept a bakery open for forty-three years. And you think you can erase her wishes because she had a stroke?”
Rosa began to cry.
Adrian returned to her side.
He knelt and took both her hands.
“Listen to me, Mama. Nobody is sending you anywhere you don't want to go without a proper assessment and your voice being heard.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“Promise?”
He kissed her forehead.
“I promise.”
For the first time that evening, Rosa smiled.
But Mr. Keene hadn't finished reading.
“Adrian.”
Something in his voice made Adrian look up.
“The guardianship petition includes a supporting statement.”
“From whom?”
Mr. Keene hesitated.
“It says your mother no longer recognizes members of her own family.”
Adrian's expression turned cold.
“That's a lie.”
“It also says she repeatedly became frightened when you visited because she could no longer identify you.”
Rosa shook her head violently.
“No! My... boy!”
Adrian wrapped one arm around her.
“I know, Mama.”
Then he looked at the attorney.
“Who made that statement?”
Mr. Keene stared down at the page.
“According to this document, you did.”
Adrian didn't move.
“What?”
“It's attributed to you, Adrian. There's a signature beneath it.”
Celeste took one small step backward.
Adrian reached for the folder.
He studied the signature.
His own name.
Written in dark blue ink.
Then he slowly lifted his eyes toward his fiancée.
“I never made this statement.”
Celeste's lips parted.
“Adrian, I can explain.”
He turned the page.
And stopped.
Attached behind the statement was a financial agreement.
An eight-million-dollar development loan.
The Halsted Street property was listed as a critical part of the transaction.
And Adrian DeLuca's personal guarantee appeared on the final page.
He stared at it.
“Elias.”
Celeste's father didn't answer.
Adrian held up the document.
“Why is my name guaranteeing eight million dollars for your development company?”
Elias looked toward his daughter.
Then at the attorney.
“It's a complicated transaction.”
Adrian's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Make it simple.”
Mr. Keene examined the agreement.
Then he looked at Adrian with genuine alarm.
“Adrian... according to the attached records, the funds have already been released.”
Adrian's hand tightened around the paper.
“Released to whom?”
Mr. Keene turned to the wire-transfer instructions.
Celeste suddenly moved toward him.
“Don't.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Don't what?”
She was trembling now.
“Adrian, please. I was going to tell you after the wedding.”
He took the page from the attorney.
Read the beneficiary information.
And slowly looked toward Celeste's father.
“Your company received the money?”
Elias said nothing.
Then Rosa pulled at Adrian's sleeve.
He turned immediately.
“What is it, Mama?”
She was crying harder now.
“Adrian... listen.”
He knelt again.
“I'm listening.”
Rosa pointed toward Celeste.
“She... came... to... my... room.”
Celeste went pale.
“Rosa, please.”
The old woman ignored her.
“She... said... you... needed... money.”
Adrian frowned.
“What money?”
Rosa struggled for breath.
Then forced out the words.
“She... said... if... I... didn't... sign...”
Her voice broke.
Adrian held her hand.
“Take your time, Mama.”
Rosa looked directly into his eyes.
“She said they would take your children away.”
Adrian froze.
“My children?”
Rosa nodded through her tears.
“She... said... you'd... lose... everything.”
Adrian slowly stood.
He looked at Celeste.
Then at Elias.
“Why would my mother believe my children were in danger?”
Celeste backed away from the table.
Elias finally spoke.
“Because there are things about that loan you don't understand.”
Adrian turned toward him.
“Then start talking.”
Elias glanced at the folder.
Then at Celeste.
“Tell him whose name you used to secure the rest of the financing.”
Celeste's face went white.
Adrian opened the final attachment.
He read the first line.
Then the second.
And when he saw the names of his two young children listed beneath a document he had never authorized, he gripped the edge of the table.
“Celeste...”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What exactly did you put my children's inheritance up as collateral for?”
Celeste began crying.
But Elias wasn't looking at her anymore.
He was staring at the door.
And when the doorbell rang, Rosa clutched Adrian's sleeve and whispered:
“That's the man... who made me put my thumb on the paper.”
Adrian turned toward the hallway.
“What man, Mama?”
May you like
Rosa's next words made the attorney drop his pen.
“The one Celeste said was coming to take me away after the wedding.”
