Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rachel
"Matteo! Stop!" I lunged forward, grabbing his swinging arm with everything I had. The violent force nearly threw me off.
"Stop it! Please!" I pulled him back with all my strength, tears streaming down my face. "You'll kill him! Matteo! Snap out of it!"
His raised fist froze mid-air. He turned his head stiffly. The storm in his dark eyes hadn't settled, but focus crept back in. His hand opened.
Charles's collar slipped from his grip. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His face was a mess of bruises, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.
Guards rushed in and hauled Charles up, half-dragging him toward the estate's medical wing. Luca arrived moments later, barking orders to clean up the scene. The garden finally went quiet.
The sharp tap of a cane echoed closer. Camilla appeared on the garden path, Rosalia at her side. Her face looked worse than I'd ever seen it, those hawk-like eyes burning with cold fury.
"This is all because of you!" Her cane pointed at me. "You're nothing but trouble. Get out!"
Humiliation, anger, and something I couldn't quite name—relief, maybe—hit me all at once. I never wanted to be here anyway. Now I had even less reason to stay and take this shit. Back in my room, I yanked out my suitcase and started throwing clothes in.
"Rachel, let me explain." Matteo grabbed my arm from behind. "Camilla didn't mean it. I'll talk to her. You—"
"Don't bother." I shook him off. "She's right. I don't belong here. Leaving is better for everyone."
Just as I reached for the zipper, the door cracked open. Sofia's small figure appeared in the doorway. She saw the suitcase and froze. Then her little legs carried her straight to me. She wrapped her arms around my legs.
"Mommy, are we going home?" She looked up, confusion and fear in her eyes.
"Yes, baby." I kissed her forehead. "We're leaving soon."
Without warning, tears rolled down Sofia's cheeks.
"But... but I haven't fed the swans with Grandma yet," her little mouth trembled. "She promised we'd feed the swans together tomorrow morning. And I haven't picked grapes yet. You said we'd pick grapes together..."
Her small shoulders shook. Every word was a tiny hammer to my heart. Kids pick up on everything. If she loved Camilla this much, Camilla must've been good to her.
Matteo appeared beside us. He crouched down and gently took Sofia's hand. "Rachel, for Sofia's sake, stay one more night. Please?"
That night, I held Sofia and barely slept.
The estate was unusually quiet the next morning.
Just the two of us in the grand hall. Sunlight poured through the tall arched windows, casting bright patches on the floor.
Sofia was quickly drawn to the intricate patterns on the carpet.
She squatted down, tracing the intertwined vines with her finger.
I sat on the sofa, watching her small back, mentally planning our route out.
"Leaving already?"
Camilla came down from the second floor, leaning on her cane, her face full of disdain. "Then don't let me keep you. The sooner you're gone, the better. I'm tired of looking at you."
I stood, walked to Sofia, and pulled her up from the floor. "Baby, let's wait for the car outside."
As I passed Camilla, a dull thud sounded behind me. Camilla clutched her chest and collapsed, her face deathly pale, lips purple, breathing rapid and labored.
"Sofia, go get someone! Anyone! Now!"
Sofia's face went white, but she didn't cry. She nodded hard and ran toward the servants' quarters.
No time to think. I quickly tore open Camilla's collar, laid her flat, and elevated her legs.
"Madam! Madam, what's wrong!"
"Stop screaming!" I barked at the panicking maids. "Get the family doctor! Now! And you—get the oxygen tank! Move!" The maids snapped into action.
I knelt beside Camilla, closely monitoring her condition. Matteo rushed in. Seeing the scene, his face went white. He moved to pick Camilla up.
"Don't touch her!" I stopped him. "Moving her now will only make it worse! I called the doctor!"
Matteo froze. The family doctor arrived quickly with his emergency kit. He hooked Camilla up to monitors and injected medication. Finally, her erratic heartbeat steadied. Her breathing smoothed out. She was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and carried to her room.
Matteo pulled me into his arms. "Rachel... thank you."
His voice shook. "The doctor said if you hadn't acted so fast, Mother might not have... made it."
I pushed out of his embrace. "Anyone with basic first aid knowledge would've done the same." I avoided his burning gaze. "When can the car be ready?"
"That... might take a while," Matteo said awkwardly. "Can't you stay?"
"Shut up." I held Sofia as she returned to my side. "I can wait."
Three hours later, Camilla woke up. The first thing she did was send Rosalia to get me. When I entered her bedroom, she was propped against the headboard, still pale but her eyes sharp as ever.
She just looked at me. For a long time.
"Why?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse from weakness. "Why didn't you take the chance... and let me die? It would've solved everything for both of us. Wouldn't it?"
"I couldn't," I answered calmly. "I couldn't let my daughter grow up knowing her mother once stood by and watched someone die."
Camilla fell into a long silence. But I didn't care. I'd given my answer. No reason to stay.
"Rest well." I nodded politely and turned to leave.
"Wait."
"Just... stay at the estate for now." Her tone sounded awkward, her eyes drifting to the window. Just then, the bedroom door burst open. Sofia ran in and rushed to Camilla's bedside.
"Grandma! You're awake! You scared me!" The little girl grabbed Camilla's hand, tears welling up. "Mommy, can we not leave? I want to stay with Grandma."
Looking into my daughter's hopeful eyes, my heart melted completely.
From that day on, Camilla stopped looking at me with scrutiny and judgment. She started asking about Sofia's life in Maine. She told me embarrassing stories about Matteo as a child. What surprised me most was that she began personally teaching me how to manage family affairs.
"North American market profits have been declining for two straight quarters." Camilla pointed to numbers on the report, frowning. "Marketing budget increased, so why are sales dropping?"
The two managers responsible for this stood nearby, sweating, stammering about market competition. Looking at the detailed data and cost analysis, I was reminded of my time as Matteo's assistant.
"Madam," I hesitated, then spoke up. "Can I ask—how is the olive oil shipped to North America?"
A manager quickly explained. Vitale had always used ocean freight, consolidating everything at a New York port warehouse, then distributing across the country from there.
"That might be the problem," I said. "Ground transport from New York to California or Texas takes at least a week.
During that time, temperature changes and the long haul affect the oil's flavor.
For consumers willing to pay premium prices for our product, even slight quality differences are a dealbreaker. "
"Maybe we could try partnering directly with West Coast specialty markets, using small-batch, high-frequency air shipping. Unit costs go up, but we'd guarantee the product reaches shelves at peak quality, protecting our brand. Long-term, profit margins would actually improve."
When I finished, the room went silent. The two managers exchanged glances, realization dawning on their faces. Camilla looked at me, approval in her eyes.
"Do what she said."
That night's family dinner was unusually formal. All the prominent elders in Sicily were invited. Halfway through, Camilla set down her knife and fork. She had Rosalia bring over an antique velvet box.
She opened it and took out a ring set with an enormous sapphire. The design was ancient and elegant, surrounded by tiny diamonds that gleamed deep blue in the candlelight.
"This is the ring of the Vitale matriarch." Camilla's voice rang clearly through the dining room. "Passed from the last matriarch to me. Now, I'm giving it to you."