Chapter 2 - SILENT ECHOES
The back office of Il Canto smelled faintly of old coffee grounds, bleach, and damp cardboard. A single overhead fluorescent bulb flickered with an irritating, high-pitched buzz that matched the frantic pulsing in Chloe’s temples.
She dropped her order pad onto the metal desk and leaned against the edge, letting out a long, shuddering breath. Her hands were still trembling slightly—not from fear of Gabriel Costello, but from the terrifying realization that she had just broken her two-year vow of silence.
For twenty-four months, she had kept her hands tucked firmly into her pockets, folding them behind her back, actively pretending she didn't know the language that had defined her childhood. Every time she saw someone signing on the subway or across the street, she had turned her head away. She had convinced herself that burying ASL was a way of honoring Leo’s memory—that using it without him felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the silence he had left behind.
And yet, seeing Beatrice sitting there, dismissed and unheard by her own flesh and blood, had bypassed all her intellectual defenses in a single second. The instinct to intervene had been stronger than her fear, stronger even than her grief.
The heavy metal door swung open without a knock.
Marco stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him. He looked like a man who was about to attend his own execution.
“Are you out of your absolute mind?” Marco hissed, leaning his back against the door and running a hand over his thinning hair. “Do you have a death wish, Chloe? Do you know who Gabriel Costello is?”
“He’s a customer,” Chloe said defensively, crossing her arms.
“He is a man who owns half the shipping ports on the East Coast and three federal judges,” Marco whispered fiercely. “You don't talk back to him. You don't translate his mother’s insults behind his back. And you certainly don't lecture him on his parenting skills while holding a water pitcher!”
“His mother was being ignored, Marco. She was trying to order dinner, and he was treating her like an annoying piece of furniture.”
“She’s deaf, Chloe! Everyone knows she’s been losing her hearing for years, and the old man—God rest his soul—used to handle it. Gabriel is a busy man running an empire; he doesn't have time to learn hand signals.”
“It’s not a hand signal, it’s a language,” Chloe snapped, her voice rising before she reined it in. “And being busy isn't an excuse to shut your own mother out of your life. If he took thirty seconds to look at her instead of his bloody crime syndicate files, he’d know what she was trying to say.”
Marco stared at her, suddenly noticing the intense, raw emotion burning in her dark eyes. His angry posture melted into something more weary and concerned. He pushed off the door and stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Look... I know you’ve been through a lot. I know about your brother. But you can't bring that baggage onto the floor here, especially not with Table 7. They’re a different breed, Chloe. I’m just trying to keep you safe and employed.”
“I’m fine, Marco,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Did they pay the check?”
“They left five minutes ago. And before you ask—yes, they left.” Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick, crisp hundred-dollar bill, laying it flat on the metal desk. “That’s your tip. Just for Table 7.”
Chloe stared at the hundred-dollar bill. It was more than she made in half a shift. But tucked underneath it was something else—a small, dark business card embossed with silver lettering. No name. Just a private phone number and a single, elegant monogram: G.C.
“He left that for you?” Chloe asked, pointing at the card.
“No,” Marco said grimly. “His head enforcer walked back in after everyone left, dropped it on the host stand, and told me to make sure it got directly into your hands. He said Mr. Costello wants a word with you about your... extracurricular language skills.”
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Chloe felt a cold drop of dread pool in her stomach. “Did he say when?”
“Tomorrow morning. Off-site.” Marco gave her a sympathetic grimace. “I’d call in sick, Chloe, but men like Gabriel Costello usually find people whether they show up or not.”
