Chapter 9 - The Ultimatum at Il Canto
Two days later, the chaotic kitchen of Il Canto felt smaller, louder, and infinitely more mundane than the sprawling Westchester estate.
Chloe was wiping down the stainless-steel counter with a damp rag, her mind replaying the conversation from the garden bench over and over. She hadn't given Gabriel an answer. She had taken the town car back to Manhattan, shoved the white envelope into her bedside drawer, and tried to convince herself that she would never hear from him again.
She was wrong.
The kitchen doors swung open with a heavy bang, and Marco rushed in, his face pale, waving a white envelope in the air.
“Chloe! Chloe, stop what you’re doing right now!” Marco hissed, running over to her station.
“Marco, if this is another message about Table 7, I’m quitting,” Chloe said, not looking up from her rag.
“It’s not Table 7. It’s a delivery,” Marco stammered, dropping a heavy, official-looking document onto the counter right in front of her.
Chloe stopped wiping. She looked down at the paper. It wasn't an envelope; it was a property deed and a formal commercial lease agreement.
“What is this?” she asked, frowning.
“It’s the deed to the building next door,” Marco whispered, his eyes wide with absolute terror. “The vacant bakery that’s been boarded up for three years? Gabriel Costello bought it this morning. And the lease... Chloe, look at the tenant name on the lease.”
Chloe’s hands trembled slightly as she picked up the document. Her eyes scanned the printed text down to the signature line.
Tenant: Chloe Bennett.
Monthly Rent: $0.00.
Intended Use: Community Deaf Culture Center and ASL Instruction Academy.
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. The paper slipped from her fingers, landing flat against the stainless steel.
“He... he bought a building?” Chloe whispered, her voice shaking with disbelief and rising anger. “Does he think he can just buy my life? Does he think I’m some kind of project to be funded?”
Before Marco could answer, the kitchen doors swung open once more.
Dante walked through, flanked by two other men in grey suits. He didn't look at Marco or the line cooks. He walked straight up to Chloe’s station, stopping two feet away.
“Miss Bennett,” Dante said smoothly. “Mr. Costello requests your presence in the VIP room. Tonight. Table 7.”
“Tell Mr. Costello I am busy,” Chloe snapped, her temper finally boiling over. She snatched the lease agreement off the counter and held it up. “Tell him I don't want his building, I don't want his charity, and I certainly won't be bought like one of his shipping containers!”
Dante didn't flinch. He just looked at the lease, then back up at Chloe with a completely impassive expression.
“Mr. Costello anticipated that you might say something along those lines,” Dante said calmly. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, neatly folded handwritten note on heavy cream stationery. “He asked me to give you this if you rejected the lease.”
Chloe snatched the note out of Dante’s hand, ripped it open, and unfolded it.
Inside, written in Gabriel’s forceful, deliberate handwriting, were just two sentences:
May you like
You said fear is a cage. I bought the building so you would have a place to teach without worrying about rent or eviction. Come to Table 7 tonight, and tell me to my face why giving people a voice is a crime.
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