Chapter 4 - The Debt Unpaid
Two days later, the rain had cleared, leaving the Brooklyn sky washed in a brilliant, crisp autumn blue.
Inside my private study, the old walnut clock hung back in its rightful place above the sideboard. The pendulum swung with a steady, comforting tick. The bug was gone, replaced by clean air and a sense of order restored.
There was a soft tap at the study door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door creaked open, and Sophia stepped inside, holding a small silver tray with a cup of espresso. Behind her skirt, clutching Señor Bunny with both hands, peeked Emma.
Her dark curls were tied back with a brand-new red velvet ribbon.
I stood up from my desk and walked over to them. Sophia looked nervous, her eyes darting to the floor.
“Signor Moretti,” Sophia murmured. “I... I came to bring your coffee. And to ask if... if our position here is still secure. I heard about Miss Elena, and—”
“Sophia,” I interrupted gently, stopping a few feet away. “Your position here is secure for as long as you wish to remain in this house. In fact, effective immediately, your salary has been doubled, and a permanent education fund has been established for Emma.”
Sophia’s hands trembled, the silver tray rattling slightly. Tears spilled over her lower eyelids. “Signor... I don't know how to thank you.”
“Thank her,” I said, nodding down toward the little girl.
I knelt down on one knee, coming face-to-face with Emma. The four-year-old looked up at me with those serious brown eyes, holding her threadbare rabbit tight.
“Emma,” I said softly.
“Yes, sir?”
“You saved my life the other day.”
Emma considered this for a moment, her small brow furrowing in deep thought. Then she nodded solemnly. “I knew she was bad. She didn't like Señor Bunny.”
A rare, genuine smile broke across my face. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a custom silver charm shaped like a tiny clock, suspended from a delicate chain.
“This is a token of my gratitude,” I said, lifting the necklace and fastening it gently around Emma’s neck, right beside her stuffed rabbit. “It means that whenever you are in this house, you are protected. No one will ever threaten you or your mother here again. Do you understand?”
Emma touched the silver clock charm, her eyes widening in delight. She looked up at her mother, then back at me.
“Can I come back to the study and listen to the ticking whenever I want?” she asked.
May you like
I looked up at the old walnut clock on the wall, its brass pendulum catching the afternoon sunlight.
“Always, Emma,” I said. “Always.”
