Chapter 4 - The Morning Visit
The check sat on Tessa’s kitchen table next to the stack of final notices, glowing under the harsh yellow light of a flickering overhead bulb.
Tessa hadn't slept. She had stared at the ceiling for hours, listening to the muffled sounds of the Brooklyn apartment building—pipes groaning, sirens wailing in the distance, a dog barking down the hall. She had told herself a dozen times that she would tear the paper into tiny pieces and throw it in the trash. She couldn't take money from a man like Salvatore Rossi. Everyone in New York knew that the Rossi name carried strings attached—strings made of steel wire.
Yet, when she looked at the pale blue envelope containing her mother’s final notice of insurance termination, the moral high ground suddenly felt terribly cold and empty.
At 8:00 AM sharp, the decision was taken out of her hands.
A sharp, authoritative knock rattled the flimsy wooden frame of her apartment door.
Tessa froze, a mug of black coffee halfway to her lips. She looked at the door, then down at the check on the table. Slowly, she set her mug down and walked across the linoleum floor, her bare feet making soft padding sounds.
She turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
Standing in the narrow, dimly lit hallway was Gabriel Rossi.
He wasn't wearing his formal restaurant suit today. Instead, he wore a tailored navy overcoat, a dark turtleneck, and leather gloves. His face was a mask of cold, unreadable efficiency. Behind him, standing silently by the stairwell, were two of the massive bodyguards from the restaurant.
"Good morning, Tessa," Gabriel said, his voice low and smooth.
Tessa gripped the edge of the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Mr. Rossi. What are you doing here?"
"Checking on an investment," Gabriel replied calmly. He didn't wait for an invitation; he simply stepped past her into the cramped apartment, his eyes sweeping the small living room in a single, practiced glance. He saw the worn-out sofa, the stack of medical bills on the table, and the check resting right beside them.
Gabriel stopped in front of the table. He picked up the check, looked at the signature, and let out a faint, dry sigh.
"My grandfather doesn't hand those out often," Gabriel said, setting the check back down with clinical precision. "In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him do it in the last decade. Usually, it's to settle a debt or buy silence."
"I didn't ask for his money," Tessa said, her voice hardening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "And I haven't cashed it. If you're here to take it back, feel free. It's right there."
Gabriel turned slowly, his dark eyes fixing on hers with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thin. "My grandfather doesn't take things back, Tessa. Once a Rossi gives something, it stays given. But nothing in this life is a gift. You should know that by now."
"I’m a waitress, Mr. Rossi. I work for my tips. I don't work for syndicates."
"No," Gabriel agreed quietly, stepping a fraction closer. "You're a woman who speaks Sicilian dialect in an upscale Manhattan restaurant, talks back to a man who makes judges sweat, and doesn't blink when two armed guards look her in the eye. That makes you... complicated."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black business card, placing it gently over the corner of the check.
"My grandfather wants to see you again," Gabriel said. "This afternoon. Not at the restaurant. At his home in Staten Island."
Tessa stared at the card. A blank black square with a single silver-embossed phone number.
"I have a job," Tessa said flatly. "And even if I didn't, I have no interest in visiting a mob boss in his fortress."
"It wasn't a request, Tessa," Gabriel said, his tone shifting from conversational to something chillingly flat. "When Don Salvatore asks for someone, they go. The alternative... well, let's just say the medical bills on your kitchen table would suddenly become the least of your problems."
Tessa felt a surge of hot anger override her fear. She stepped right up to him, refusing to shrink back despite his height and the intimidating shadow of his reputation.
"Is that a threat, Mr. Rossi?" she challenged, her voice dropping into a dangerous register.
Gabriel looked down at her, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his dark features. For a second, a strange, almost imperceptible shadow of a smile touched his lips—not of mockery, but of reluctant respect.
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"It’s not a threat," Gabriel murmured softly, his gaze lingering on her face a fraction longer than necessary. "It’s a reality check. Be ready at two o'clock. A car will wait downstairs."
Before Tessa could find a retort, Gabriel turned on his heel, walked out into the hallway, and disappeared down the stairs, leaving behind the sound of heavy footsteps fading into the morning silence.
