Chapter 2 - The Calls That Never Reached Him|
Adrian Santoro stood perfectly still in the middle of the ballroom, staring at the woman he had planned to marry.
For several seconds, the only sound came from Walter's uneven breathing.
“Tell me he's mistaken,” Adrian said quietly.
Evelyn Price straightened her red evening gown.
“Darling, your father has been struggling with his memory for months.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“Adrian, please, not in front of everyone.”
He glanced around the room.
Nearly sixty guests were watching, including powerful businessmen, distant relatives, and people who had traveled from across New York for the engagement celebration.
Then Adrian looked at the pianist.
“Everyone can go home.”
Evelyn blinked.
“What?”
“The party is over.”
“You cannot be serious!”
Adrian turned toward his security chief, a broad-shouldered man named Niko Caruso.
“Make sure everyone gets home safely.”
Niko nodded immediately.
Within minutes, waiters began collecting untouched champagne glasses, and guests moved awkwardly toward the doors.
Nobody dared ask questions.
I stood beside Walter, terrified that I had somehow destroyed the most important evening in the Santoro household.
My hand rested protectively over my belly.
I desperately needed this job.
My rent was already late, and the hospital had recently sent me another estimate for my daughter's delivery.
I couldn't survive another financial disaster.
But Walter looked even more frightened than I felt.
“I'm sorry, son,” he whispered.
Adrian turned immediately.
“Dad, what are you apologizing for?”
“For causing trouble.”
Something painful crossed Adrian's face.
He bent slightly so they were looking directly at each other.
“You didn't cause any trouble.”
Walter's eyes filled with tears.
“I only wanted to dance.”
“I know.”
“And Rachel was kind enough to help me.”
Adrian looked toward me.
For the first time, I noticed how exhausted he appeared beneath his expensive suit.
He looked like a man who had spent years building an empire and somehow lost track of the people waiting for him at home.
“Rachel,” he said, “how long have you been working here?”
“Almost three months, sir.”
“And how often does my father eat alone?”
I hesitated.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed.
“Rachel, I suggest you remember your position.”
Adrian didn't raise his voice.
“Evelyn, don't interrupt her.”
My throat tightened.
“Most evenings, sir.”
Walter lowered his head.
“Sometimes they bring me soup.”
Adrian stared at him.
“Soup?”
Walter nodded.
“On a little tray outside my door.”
Adrian turned toward Evelyn.
“Who decided my father should eat in his bedroom?”
“He prefers privacy,” she insisted.
“No, I don't,” Walter said.
His answer was so soft that I almost missed it.
Then he added something that made my chest ache.
“I used to save a chair for you.”
Adrian closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he looked toward the long dining table.
At its center stood an elaborate arrangement of white roses.
Beside it were two chairs decorated with satin ribbons.
One for Adrian.
One for Evelyn.
There had been no place prepared for Walter.
Adrian walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and carried it across the ballroom.
He set it beside the other two.
“My father will never need an invitation to sit at his own table.”
Evelyn's mouth tightened.
“You're making a spectacle out of nothing.”
Adrian ignored her.
He turned to Niko.
“I want the household telephone records, staff instructions, and all communications concerning my father.”
“Tonight?” Niko asked.
“Tonight.”
Walter suddenly gripped my hand.
“Rachel, tell him about the telephone.”
I looked at Adrian.
“What telephone, Dad?” he asked.
Walter swallowed.
“The one in my room stopped working.”
Evelyn interrupted.
“It was disconnected because he kept calling people at inappropriate hours.”
“I only called my son,” Walter whispered.
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Rachel, did you know about this?”
“I tried the telephone once when Mr. Walt asked me to help him,” I admitted.
“There wasn't a dial tone.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
I glanced toward Evelyn.
Adrian followed my gaze.
That was answer enough.
Evelyn suddenly crossed her arms.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I've managed this household while you've been away dealing with your business.”
“And apparently you've decided that gives you the right to manage my father's life.”
“He needs professional care, Adrian.”
“Then why hasn't a doctor discussed that with me?”
Evelyn said nothing.
Adrian took his father's hand and led him toward the nearest sofa.
I started to step away.
“Rachel.”
I froze.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please stay.”
He looked at Walter.
“My father clearly trusts you.”
Nobody had ever said anything like that about me inside this house.
For three months, I had been treated as someone whose greatest achievement was making expensive floors shine.
Now the owner of the estate was asking me to remain because my presence mattered.
Niko returned twenty minutes later carrying a folder and a small electronic tablet.
His expression was grim.
“Boss, we checked the household telephone system.”
Adrian stood.
“What did you find?”
“Your Sunday calls were redirected.”
Evelyn went completely still.
“Redirected where?” Adrian asked.
Niko looked uncomfortable.
“To Miss Price's private office line.”
A terrible silence settled over the ballroom.
Adrian slowly turned toward Evelyn.
“You told me my father didn't want to speak to me.”
Evelyn swallowed.
“He was emotionally unstable.”
“And you told him I never called.”
“I was protecting both of you.”
Walter began crying.
Not loudly.
Just a quiet, helpless sound that made me wish I could turn back every lonely evening he had spent staring at his silent telephone.
Adrian knelt before him.
“Dad, I called.”
Walter nodded through his tears.
“Every Sunday?”
“Every single Sunday.”
Walter reached for his son's face.
“I thought you'd forgotten me.”
Adrian pressed his forehead against his father's hand.
“Never.”
Then Niko cleared his throat.
“There's something else.”
He opened the folder.
“Miss Price has already made arrangements for Mr. Santoro to be transferred to a residential care facility.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“When?”
Niko hesitated.
“Monday morning.”
Walter gripped my hand so tightly that his fingers hurt.
Then he whispered five words I would never forget.
May you like
“I don't want to go.”
And Adrian Santoro looked at Evelyn with an expression that told me the engagement party was no longer the only thing she was about to lose.
