Chapter 2 - The Weight of a Name
Twenty minutes later, the air inside Bellanova’s changed.
It wasn't a sudden explosion; it was a shift in pressure. The front door opened, and the restaurant—usually buzzing with the chatter of the city’s elite—fell into a heavy, suffocating quiet.
Gabriel Moretti did not walk; he arrived. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that was tailored with the precision of a scalpel. He was followed by two men who looked less like bodyguards and more like shadows that had taken human form.
Madison Cole, still holding her phone up, turned to record the arrival. "Oh, look at this, guys. Someone’s bringing the heavy hitters to the dinner party—"
Her voice faltered. She didn't know who Gabriel was, but her survival instinct, dormant as it was, sensed a predator.
Gabriel didn’t look at the other diners. He didn't look at the decor. He walked straight to the table where Claire was standing, having just walked out of the kitchen to meet him. She had changed into a dry blouse, but her eyes were red-rimmed.
Gabriel stopped. He looked at the floor where the sticky residue of the soda still stained the tiles, then at the table where Madison sat, smug and smirking.
"Claire," he said. His voice was low, a rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. "Who did this?"
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Claire looked at Madison. The girl was still recording, though her hand was shaking. "That young lady," Claire said softly, pointing. "She wanted to see if I would react. She thought it was funny."
Gabriel turned his head. He didn't look angry. He looked clinical. He looked at Madison as one might look at a bug to be crushed.
