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To keep her household running smoothly, Vittoria employed a devoted couple, Marco and Teresa Bianchi, as her housekeepers. Marco, practical and quiet, tended to the villa’s repairs and the grounds, while Teresa, warm and perceptive, managed the kitchen and kept the villa immaculate. The Bianchis had worked for Vittoria since she first moved to Bellavita and were among the few who knew her both as the brilliant professor and as the woman trying to build a new life.
For transport—whether to town or on the rare occasion she attended social functions in the city—Vittoria relied on her loyal driver, Enzo De Luca. Enzo was a rugged man in his forties, whose deep knowledge of the winding country roads was matched only by his fierce loyalty to Vittoria and her household. With a quiet dignity and a sharp eye for trouble, Enzo had become more than a driver; he was a trusted confidant, someone Vittoria could rely on without question.
After a year of what seemed like a peaceful and idyllic life, cracks began to show beneath the surface. Despite La Fenice always being full—its tables occupied by locals and curious travelers alike—the restaurant’s revenue was troublingly low. Month after month, the financial statements painted a grim picture: the numbers didn’t add up.
One afternoon, unable to shake her growing unease, Vittoria decided to drop by unannounced. The midday rush had just died down, and the restaurant hummed with the quiet clatter of cutlery and the distant murmur of the last few diners lingering over coffee.
André Pierrer was polishing glasses behind the bar when Vittoria stepped through the door. Elisabetta appeared moments later, wiping her hands on her apron, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of their boss.
“Ah, Signora Mancini,” André said smoothly, setting down a glass. “What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe the honor?”
Vittoria didn’t smile. “I was hoping to have a word,” she said, her tone light but edged. “In private.”
The Pierreers exchanged a glance. Elisabetta gestured toward the small office tucked behind the kitchen. “Of course. This way.”
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