Accused

Isabella’s POV

I didn't go back to the apartment that night. I couldn't face Irene and tell her I had failed again.

Instead, I took a bus as far away from the center of Rome and ended up in a small seaside town.

It was a place for tourists who couldn't afford the Amalfi Coast and locals who had nowhere else to go.

I found work at Caffè del Mare and a tiny place to stay.

The owner, a man named Bruno didn't ask for papers. "You work twelve hours, you get fifty Euros, a meal and a bed to sleep on. Take it or leave it." He had told me.

I took it.

~Two Weeks Later~

My strength was draining. My back was screaming. Every time I carried a heavy tray of seafood pasta, my stomach turned.

I hadn't eaten a real meal in three days. I was saving my money for the prenatal vitamins I had managed to find at a local pharmacy.

"Table four is waiting, Moretti! Move!" Bruno barked.

"Coming, Bruno," I whispered as I moved through the crowded tables.

“Check, please.” A man at table six called.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and reached into my apron for the bill. But suddenly, my head spun. The world tilted to the left, then the right.

Focus, Alessia. Just four more hours.

“Here is your change, signore.” I said, handing back the euros.

The man who looked like a tourist frowned. He looked at his wallet, the table, and then back at me.

“Wait.” He said, voice rising. “I had a fifty-euro note here. Now it’s gone.”

I froze. “Pardon me? I gave you the change for the twenty you gave me.”

"No!" The man shouted, standing up. "I had a fifty on the corner of the table. You took it when you cleared the glasses!"

"I didn't take anything, sir," I said, my voice trembling. "Please, check your pockets."

"Are you calling me a liar?" He barked. “Where is the owner? Call him.”

Bruno appeared out of nowhere, his eyes narrowing. "What is the problem?"

“Your waitress stole my money,” The tourist spat. “I saw her hand move. She is a thief.”

“I didn’t!” I gasped, nausea hitting me. “Bruno, I swear…”

“Empty your pockets, Moretti.” Bruno cut me off. “Now." He commanded.

My hands shook as I reached into my apron. I pulled out my notepad, a pen, and three crumpled five-euro notes. They were my tips for the day.

“Look in the sweater,” The tourist sneered. “She is wearing that big thing to hide what she steals.”

“No!” I cried, stepping back. My vision blurred. “Please.” I choked. “I didn’t take it…”

If he pulled it up, he would see the bump and he would fire me too.

"If you have nothing to hide, then show us!" Bruno yanked the fabric of my oversized sweater.

I stumbled back, my heel catching on the uneven floor.

The tourists were staring, some whispering, some filming with their phones. I felt that familiar shame, the same I felt in New York when the Santiagos and Romanos said I was a failure.

Just as Bruno reached for me again, a shadow fell over.

“Is there a problem here?”

My heart skipped a beat hearing the voice.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was. It was the same cold voice that fired me.

Dante Galante.

The smell of expensive cologne hit my nostril as he walked toward me.

He was dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than this entire building. Behind him, two large men in suits arrived, blocking the entrance to the café.

But what the hell was he doing here? This town was two hours from Rome.

"Signore Galante?” Bruno stuttered as his hand dropped instantly. “I apologize. This... this girl, she stole from a guest."

Dante didn't look at Bruno. He looked at the tourist who accused me.

"She didn't take your money," Dante stated as he reached into the man’s linen shirt pocket and pulled out a crumpled fifty-euro note.

“Here.” He dropped it on the table as if it were trash. "It was in your pocket the whole time,"

The man flinched, lowering his head.

"Pick it up." Dante commanded. "Pay your bill. Apologize. And leave. Or my associates will help you find your manners in the water.”

The tourist didn't even wait for his change. He threw a handful of coins on the table, stammered a pathetic "sorry” to me and ran.

Bruno turned to me, faking regret. "Moretti, I am so sorry, I didn't know...."

"Out." Dante said to Bruno, cutting him off.

"Signore?"

"Go to the back. Now."

Bruno fled immediately.

I stood there, my chest heaving. My vision was swimming again. The adrenaline that had kept me still was fading fast, leaving me with nothing but exhaustion and hunger.

"You have a knack for trouble. Alessia." Dante said as he looked at me. It was the first time he called me by my first name.