Carmen’s voice was sharp, cutting through the thick tension in the room. “What did he whisper to you?”
Ella blinked, tilting her head slightly, as if the question confused her. “Pardon?” she asked, her voice gentle, motherly, calm.
Carmen stepped forward, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Matteo,” she repeated, her heart pounding in her ribs, “he whispered something to you. What did he say?”
Ella’s expression didn’t change. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly, as if this was all so silly.
“Oh, Mrs. Venetti,” she murmured, “children say all kinds of things. I honestly don’t remember.”
Carmen’s fists clenched. “Don’t lie to me.”
Ella sighed, her face the perfect mask of patience.
“I’m not lying,” she said simply. “Matteo and I talk about many things. Maybe he told me something sweet, maybe it was nonsense. But if it was important, I’m sure he’d tell you too.”
Carmen’s chest tightened. That was the problem. Matteo wasn’t telling her anything anymore.
“Ask him yourself,” Ella suggested, smiling softly.
Carmen’s eyes flickered to her son. Matteo sat quietly on the couch, staring at his hands, completely withdrawn.
“Matteo, baby,” Carmen said carefully, kneeling beside him. “What did you say to Nanny?”
Matteo’s small shoulders tensed.
“Nothing.”
“Sweetheart—”
“It was nothing!” Matteo snapped, his little voice sharp, defensive.
Carmen flinched. Matteo never snapped at her. He had always been gentle, soft-spoken. But now? Now, it was like she was talking to a stranger. Carmen exhaled shakily, turning back to Ella. Ella just stood there, watching, completely calm. And smiling.
***
Marco stood in his office, his hands gripping his desk tightly. Carmen stormed in, her body coiled with frustration.
“We need to talk.”
Marco let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples.
“Carmen, not now.”
“Yes, now!” she snapped, her voice shaking. “Marco, I don’t know what’s happening, but something is wrong with Matteo. He’s changing. He’s lying to me. He’s hiding things!”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“He’s a kid, Carmen. Kids go through phases.”
Carmen stared at him in disbelief.
“This isn’t a phase!” she shouted. “Matteo is pulling away from me, and Ella is—”
“Then fix it!” Marco cut her off, his voice cold, exhausted.
Carmen’s breath caught.
“What?”
Marco turned to her, his eyes hard, impatient. “You were the one who wanted a nanny,” he said flatly. “You didn’t want to do it all alone, remember? So solve it.”
Carmen felt like she had been slapped.
“You think this is my fault?” she whispered, her throat burning.
Marco exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s exactly what you’re saying,” she hissed.
Marco looked away, his shoulders tense.
“Carmen, I have bigger problems right now. My business is falling apart. Our allies are turning on us. Luca is missing. I don’t have time to play detective about the damn nanny.”
Carmen’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t have time for our son?”
Marco’s eyes snapped to hers, burning with frustration.
“I don’t have time for this conversation,” he said firmly. Carmen’s chest ached. Marco wasn’t listening. He still didn’t see it. Didn’t see how much they were losing Matteo.
How much they were losing themselves.
She turned abruptly, marching toward the door. Before she could leave, a voice floated into the room.
“Sometimes, mother and son grow apart.”
Carmen stiffened. Slowly, she turned. Ella stood in the hallway, watching them.
Her expression was calm, almost… knowing.
“It happens,” she continued, offering a small smile of sympathy. “Children change. You mustn’t take it personally.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted violently. Marco just exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I need to work,” he muttered, brushing past them.
Carmen barely heard him.
Her eyes were locked onto Ella. Ella tilted her head slightly, as if waiting for Carmen to respond. Carmen didn’t.
She just walked away, her chest heavy with dread. She couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
That evening, Carmen stood by the kitchen window, stirring her tea absentmindedly.
Her mind was elsewhere, drowning in thoughts of Matteo, of Marco, of Ella’s words.
Then—
She saw it. A shadow just beyond the fence. Carmen’s body went rigid. A man. Standing completely still. Watching. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the spoon.
She squinted, trying to make out his features—
But before she could, he turned. And just like that—he was gone.