Chapter 5 - THE WARM MEAL
Lorenzo looked past the guard, his sharp eyes catching the movement of two kitchen staff members who were peeking out from behind the heavy pantry doors, watching the drama unfold.
"Actually..." Lorenzo spoke, his deep voice carrying easily down the long marble corridor, "...give her dinner."
The head chef—a broad, white-aproned Italian man—immediately pushed the pantry door wide open, nodding rapidly. "Yes, Don Lorenzo! Right away, sir!"
Three minutes later, a small round table near the warm copper-clad hearth of the staff dining alcove was set with a crisp white linen cloth.
A heavy silver tray was laid before three-year-old Sophie. On it sat a steaming bowl of rich chicken and handmade gnocchi soup, sliced roasted chicken breast, warm buttered carrots, a basket of fresh rolls, and a tall glass of warm milk.
Sophie sat on a tall chair, her small feet dangling six inches above the floor, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at the feast in front of her. She looked up at her mother, who stood beside the chair, completely frozen in shock, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks.
Lorenzo stood five feet away, his hands resting casually in his suit trousers pockets, watching the little girl.
"Eat, little one," Lorenzo said softly, a faint, rare softness touching the corners of his dark eyes. "It's warm."
Elena looked at Lorenzo, her lips trembling, her hands clutching her laundry smock against her waist. She tried to formulate words—to thank the feared mob boss who had just transformed her daughter's world—but the raw, overwhelming gratitude choked the sound in her throat.
Lorenzo looked directly into Elena’s hazel eyes.
"Starting tomorrow, your daughter eats here whenever she needs to," Lorenzo declared smoothly, his tone absolute. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And your shifts in the laundry end at five o'clock. No more overtime."
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Elena let out a quiet, gasping sob, covering her mouth with both hands as she offered him a deep, desperate nod of thanks.
Beside them, Sophie picked up a small silver spoon with both hands, dipped it into the warm soup, and took her first bite, a small, happy smile finally breaking across her pale face.
