Chapter 2 - Echoes of the PastThe crimson flash in Matteo's eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Chloe blinking in sudden confusion. She forced a nervous laugh, trying to regain control of the narrative. "Matteo, darling, don't listen to her dramatics. She's unstable. Security should have removed her hours ago!" Chloe insisted, stepping forward to loop her arm through his.
Matteo gently but firmly pushed Chloe’s hand away. He didn't yell, but the sheer coldness in his voice silenced the entire kitchen staff who had gathered in the shadows. "Get out," Matteo commanded, his gaze fixed on Chloe. "Excuse me?" Chloe gasped, her face flushing crimson—not from magic, but from pure humiliation. "You're kicking me out? For a kitchen scrubber?" "I said, get out of my restaurant. Now," Matteo repeated, his voice echoing off the tile walls.
Furious, Chloe grabbed her designer handbag, shooting Elena a venomous glare that promised swift and ruthless retaliation. As the glass doors swung shut behind Chloe, Matteo turned his full attention back to Elena. He helped her up, guiding her to a chair in the corner office, bringing her a warm glass of water.
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The story of how they ended up here was a tragedy written in poverty and sacrifice. Years ago, when Matteo was just a boy, Elena had given him up to a wealthy orphanage, believing it was the only way to give him a chance at survival after her husband passed away and creditors seized everything. She had spent decades working menial, backbreaking jobs just to stay close, watching him from afar as he climbed the corporate ladder, built a culinary empire, and eventually bought this very restaurant. She had taken a job as a dishwasher just to be near him, content to look at his face every day without ever burdening him with her past.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Matteo asked quietly, his hands shaking slightly as he applied a clean gauze to the cut on her cheek. "I didn't want to ruin your life, my son," Elena wept softly. "You have everything now. I am just a ghost from a past you worked so hard to escape." Matteo felt a searing pain in his chest. He looked at his mother's worn, calloused hands—hands that had worked tirelessly so he could live. A vow formed in his mind: No one will ever hurt you again.
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