Chapter 2 - One Can of Soup
At six-thirty, Roman called me into his office.
Carlo was gone.
The city glittered behind the enormous windows, and Roman stood with his back to me.
“Did you need something, sir?”
“How long have you worked here?”
I blinked.
“Three years.”
“Any complaints?”
“About my work?”
“About anything.”
I hesitated.
“No.”
He turned.
His dark eyes searched my face.
“Do you have financial problems, Tessa?”
The question struck like a slap.
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
Then I forced a professional smile.
“Nothing that affects my work.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
I looked at him.
“With respect, Mr.
Caldwell, my personal finances aren’t part of my employment responsibilities.”
Roman said nothing.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Then he glanced toward the folder on his desk.
I recognized the highlighted report from that morning.
A strange coldness crept through me.
“Is there something wrong with the accounts?”
He watched me.
“Not something you need to worry about tonight.”
I waited.
Finally, he said, “Go home.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve been here since seven.
Go home, Tessa.”
I wanted to argue that I still had work to finish.
Instead, I nodded.
“Good night, Mr.
Caldwell.”
He didn’t answer.
As I left the building, I felt his eyes following me.
Later, Roman told me what had happened after I walked out.
Carlo had returned with a second report.
According to that document, twenty thousand dollars had been transferred from Roman’s private account using authorization linked to my workstation.
“She’s been changing payment records for weeks,” Carlo had insisted.
Roman studied the report.
“Three years without a mistake.”
“Three years building your trust.”
Roman looked toward his office door.
“Do you have proof?”
“Her credentials are attached to the transfer.”
“Credentials can be copied.”
Carlo’s expression changed.
“Boss, with all respect, you’re letting loyalty cloud your judgment.”
Roman slowly closed the folder.
“What do you suggest?”
“Bring her downstairs.
Question her.
Make sure she understands what happens to thieves.”
Roman stared at him for several seconds.
Then he stood.
“No.”
Carlo frowned.
“No?”
“I’ll handle Tessa myself.”
At eleven that night, I was still awake.
Leo had been having a difficult day.
His right shoulder hurt from pushing the damaged wheelchair, and a painful muscle spasm had interrupted his afternoon exercises.
The clinic had called to remind us about an unpaid balance.
Then our electricity provider sent another warning.
By the time I got home, I had stopped checking my phone.
“Tess?”
Leo sat near the kitchen table with a blanket over his knees.
“Hey, troublemaker.”
He smiled faintly.
“Late.”
“I know.
Sorry.”
He pointed toward a covered plate.
“Saved… you…”
I lifted the cover.
Two pieces of toast.
My throat tightened.
“Did you eat?”
He nodded.
I wasn’t convinced.
“Leo.”
He gave me the look he used whenever I became too protective.
I sighed.
“Fine.
You win this round.”
I kissed his forehead and moved toward the stove.
Inside the cabinet was one can of vegetable soup.
Behind it sat half a packet of crackers.
That was dinner.
Tomorrow was payday.
I had twenty-three dollars in my checking account, and most of that would disappear when I bought Leo’s prescription.
I opened the soup.
As it heated, Leo rolled closer.
The wheelchair’s damaged wheel made a scraping sound against the floor.
I winced.
“We really have to get that fixed.”
“Next… week.”
“You’ve been saying that for three weeks.”
He grinned.
“Optimist.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then I poured the soup into two bowls.
I gave Leo almost everything.
My portion contained mostly broth.
He looked at it.
“Tess.”
“What?”
“That’s… not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
He pointed to my bowl.
I shrugged.
“I had a huge lunch.”
He studied my face.
Leo had always been able to recognize my lies.
Even now.
Especially now.
“You… didn’t.”
I pretended to be offended.
“Excuse me.
Are you calling your hardworking sister dishonest?”
He raised one eyebrow.
“Yes.”
I laughed again.
It was easier than crying.
“Eat your soup, detective.”
Outside our kitchen window, beyond the narrow courtyard, a tall man in a black coat stood absolutely still.
Roman Caldwell had followed my car from Manhattan.
He had expected to find expensive possessions.
Instead, he’d found our broken building.
He’d watched me struggle with the apartment lock.
He’d seen me carry groceries consisting of bread, canned soup, and the cheapest milk in the store.
Then he’d entered the courtyard.
Our curtains were partially open.
The kitchen light made everything visible.
Roman stood in the darkness, close enough to see the chipped bowls on the table.
Close enough to hear fragments of our conversation through the poorly sealed window.
Close enough to understand that the woman accused of stealing twenty thousand dollars was rationing dinner.
Later, he would tell me that he’d reached beneath his coat when he first approached the building.
His gun was there.
Loaded.
He hadn’t planned to use it unless he believed he was in danger.
But he had come prepared for violence.
He had arrived expecting a thief.
He found a sister who was hungry because her brother needed to eat.
Inside, Leo finished his soup.
I helped him turn his wheelchair toward the living room.
The damaged wheel caught again.
He grimaced.
I crouched beside it.
“Hold on.”
I lifted the front frame slightly and freed the wheel.
“Better?”
He nodded.
Then he caught my wrist.
“Tess.”
“Yeah?”
“You… okay?”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
He didn’t let go.
For several seconds, he simply looked at me.
Then he whispered, “Don’t… be… tired.”
My eyes burned.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I wrapped my arms around him.
May you like
“I’ll be okay.”
But I didn’t know if that was true anymore.
