Chapter 2 - Someone Told Him
Rafael did not ask the question again until they were inside.
Emmett had endured enough.
He carried his son through the French doors, past the bewildered household staff, and into the library where the garden noise disappeared behind thick walls.
Rafael set him on the leather sofa.
“Are you hurt?”
Emmett shook his head.
“Anywhere?”
“No.”
Rafael inspected his hands anyway.
No cuts.
Then his knees.
Nothing.
Only blackberry stains.
Emmett stared at them.
“My new suit is dirty.”
“We can clean a suit.”
“Grandma's food broke.”
Rafael crouched.
“Your food didn't break. The plate did.”
“Grandma didn't like it.”
“That isn't your fault.”
Emmett was quiet.
Then he asked the question that hurt Rafael more than anything Lucille had said.
“Was it bad?”
Rafael swallowed.
“I would've eaten the whole thing.”
“Even the purple part?”
“Especially the purple part.”
A tiny smile appeared.
Then disappeared.
Rafael removed his jacket and placed it around his son's shoulders.
“Tell me about the lady.”
“What lady?”
“The person who said Grandma liked blackberry.”
Emmett thought carefully.
“She said it was Grandma's favorite.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You've never seen her?”
Emmett shook his head.
“Where did she talk to you?”
“In the kitchen.”
That made Rafael straighten.
The Montaro estate kitchen wasn't open to guests.
During large events, caterers entered through a service gate. Family members could walk in freely, but ordinary guests were redirected.
“What did she look like?”
“Pretty.”
That narrowed it down to approximately half the banquet.
“What color was her dress?”
Emmett frowned.
“Pink. Maybe.”
“Did she know your name?”
“Yes.”
Rafael felt something cold settle inside him.
“What exactly did she say?”
Emmett tried to remember.
“She said, ‘You're Emmett.’ And I said yes. And she said Grandma would be sad because nobody made her favorite.”
“Blackberry cobbler.”
Emmett nodded.
“And then?”
“She said I could make it.”
“Did she help?”
“She got the berries.”
“Who actually baked it with you?”
“Miss Rosa.”
Rosa Alvarez had worked for the Montaros for twenty-two years.
Rafael trusted her.
“Where's Rosa now?”
Emmett shrugged.
The library door opened.
Rafael turned sharply.
Celina entered.
“You shouldn't have done that.”
Rafael stood.
“Get out.”
“Rafael, listen to me.”
“You laughed at my son.”
“I wasn't laughing at him.”
“I heard you.”
“You don't understand what happened.”
“Then explain it.”
Celina glanced toward Emmett.
“Not here.”
Rafael stepped between her and his son.
“Anything concerning him gets said in front of me.”
“That's exactly the problem.”
“What problem?”
Celina lowered her voice.
“You think today started when Emmett walked onto that terrace.”
Rafael stared at her.
“It didn't.”
“Then when did it start?”
Celina hesitated.
Footsteps sounded outside.
She turned.
Lucille entered.
Her gown was immaculate except for one blackberry stain near the hem.
“Celina,” she said.
Celina went pale.
Lucille looked at Rafael.
“Take your son and leave my house.”
“Gladly.”
“And don't return until you apologize.”
Rafael almost laughed.
“For what?”
“Destroying my banquet.”
“You kicked a plate out of a three-year-old's hands.”
“He needed to learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That affection cannot be purchased with childish performances.”
Rafael stared at her.
“He made you dessert.”
Lucille's expression didn't change.
“And someone made sure he did.”
There it was.
Confirmation.
Rafael stepped closer.
“So you knew.”
Lucille's eyes flickered.
“Known what?”
“That someone told him to bring you blackberry cobbler.”
Silence.
Celina looked at the floor.
Rafael saw it.
“You both knew.”
“Rafael—” Celina began.
“Who was it?”
Lucille answered.
“That doesn't concern you.”
“My son was humiliated in front of a hundred people. It concerns me.”
Lucille turned toward the door.
Rafael's voice stopped her.
“Why blackberry?”
She froze.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Rafael saw it.
Celina saw it too.
And suddenly Rafael understood that the dessert itself mattered.
“Why,” he repeated, “blackberry?”
Lucille turned back.
Her controlled expression had changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“Take Emmett home.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“Then I'll find out myself.”
For the first time that evening, Lucille looked frightened.
Rafael picked up his son.
As he passed Celina, she whispered something so quietly Lucille couldn't hear.
“Ask Rosa what happened twenty-nine years ago.”
Rafael stopped.
Celina wouldn't meet his eyes.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because blackberry cobbler wasn't chosen to embarrass Emmett.”
Rafael waited.
May you like
Celina finally looked at him.
“It was chosen to hurt Lucille.”
