Chapter 4 - Upstairs Realities
Upstairs, the sprawling corridors of the Rinaldi estate felt like a museum of lost time. Heavy mahogany doors lined the hallway, each one guarding the private misery of a billionaire's family. Sarah walked past the statues and priceless paintings until she reached the end of the hall, where a sliver of light escaped from beneath Ethan’s door.
She knocked gently.
"Go away!" Ethan’s voice snapped from inside, muffled by a pillow.
Sarah didn't wait for an invitation. She turned the brass knob and pushed the door open. Ethan was sitting on the edge of a massive, custom-built bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, glaring at the floor. His room was a shrine of high-tech gadgets, expensive video game consoles, and designer clothes—yet it looked utterly hollow.
"The pasta is downstairs," Sarah said, leaning against the doorframe. "It's getting cold."
"I don't care," Ethan muttered, refusing to look up. "You're just like the rest of them. You'll quit by tomorrow morning. Everyone leaves. Mom died, and everyone else just gives up and walks away."
The brutal honesty in the boy's voice struck Sarah right in her chest. She pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly across the plush carpet, kneeling down until she was eye-level with the fourteen-year-old.
"I'm not everyone, Ethan," Sarah said, her voice steady and warm. "And I don't give up easily. My own little girl is waiting for me to prove that I can build a stable life for us. I know what it feels like to be terrified that the people you love are going to be ripped away from you."
Ethan blinked, startled by her candor. For the first time, the defensive wall around the teenager cracked. He looked at Sarah, searching her face for any sign of pity or falseness, finding only raw, genuine truth.
"Is that why you took this crazy job?" Ethan whispered.
"That's why," Sarah smiled gently, extending her hand toward him. "Come on down and eat with your brothers. Your dad is actually being civilized down there—he even chopped onions."
A tiny, reluctant smile flickered across Ethan's face. He took Sarah's hand, allowing himself to be pulled up.
When they walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later, joined by Tommy who had quietly emerged from the hallway, all four boys were finally seated around the large wooden table.
Victor stood near the counter, watching the scene unfold with an expression of profound disbelief. The clock on the wall read 7:52 p.m.
May you like
Eight minutes to spare.
Victor looked at Sarah, his dark eyes softening in a way no criminal associate or rival syndicate leader had ever witnessed. In less than two hours, Sarah Bennett had done the impossible.
