Leo peeked out from behind Tessa’s hip, his eyes darting to the massive black bags resting on the floor. “What’s in those?”
“Dinner,” Zo said, the corner of his lips softening. “Real dinner.”
Zo unzipped the heavy thermal insulation of the top catering bag. The seal broke with a quiet hiss, and instantly, the bleak, freezing apartment was flooded with the intoxicating aroma of roasted garlic, rich beef reduction, buttered potatoes, and warm yeast.
Leo’s stomach growled with a sound so loud it seemed to startle the boy himself.
Tessa stood, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and gently guided the boys toward the small laminate dining table in the corner. “Help me unpack, boys.”
What followed was a scene that etched itself into Zo Rossi’s memory with the permanence of an acid burn.
From the depths of the thermal bags came heavy, heavy-gauge foil pans still radiating heat. Slices of braised Wagyu short ribs, so tender they were falling apart under their own weight in a glistening dark glaze. Mountains of creamy Yukon Gold mashed potatoes whipped with cream and butter. Sweet baby carrots and caramelized pearl onions. Two whole loaves of sourdough bread, crusty on the outside and soft within, accompanied by round pats of sea-salted French butter wrapped in gold foil.
And then, from the lower cold compartment, three individual domed containers revealing glossy, dark chocolate tarts topped with fresh raspberries and dusted with edible gold leaf.
Leo gasped, his small hands hovering over the table as if touching the food might make it vanish. “Tess… is this for us? All of it?”
“All of it, sweetheart,” she choked out, fetching three mismatched ceramic plates and forks from the cupboard.
Toby remained still for a long second, his defenses crumbling beneath the sheer, overwhelming reality of the feast laid out before them. For months, their evening meal had been whatever Tessa could smuggle in her containers, supplemented by generic macaroni or thin vegetable soup. He had seen meals like this on television commercials, but he had never smelled anything so rich in his life.
“Sit down, Toby,” Zo said gently, leaning back against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “Before it gets cold.”
The boys sat. Tessa served them heaps of beef, potatoes, and bread, her hands trembling as she filled their plates until they were groaning under the weight.
For the next fifteen minutes, the only sounds in the apartment were the clatter of forks against chipped plates and the soft, breathless murmurs of two children who had forgotten what it felt like to be entirely, completely full. Leo ate with messy, unbridled joy, gravy smeared across his chin, while Toby ate with a quiet, ravenous focus, looking up every few bites as if to confirm that Zo hadn’t vanished and taken the food with him.
Tessa sat between them, eating small, deliberate bites, her hand resting on the back of Leo’s chair. Her face looked transformed; the crushing weight of exhaustion that had clung to her in the estate foyer seemed, for this brief hour, to have lifted.
“Mr. Zo?” Leo asked suddenly, his mouth half-full of sourdough.
“Leo, chew first,” Tessa corrected gently.
Leo swallowed hard. “Do you have a dinosaur at your house?”
Zo tilted his head, a faint, genuine smile touching his eyes. “Not a real one. But I have two giant stone lions outside the front gates. They guard the house from the cold.”
“Lions are cool,” Leo decided, nodding sagely. “T-Rex could take them, though.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Zo agreed solemnly.
Toby, however, was watching Zo with a maturity that went far beyond his ten years. He set his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and looked the billionaire dead in the eye.
“Why are you here, mister?” Toby asked bluntly. “People like you don’t come to Pulaski Road just to give away food. What do you want from my sister?”
Tessa’s breath hitched. “Toby! That is disrespectful. Apologize to Mr. Rossi right now.”
“No, let him speak,” Zo said, holding up a hand. He respected the boy’s skepticism. In this neighborhood, when an expensive suit showed up with gifts, it usually meant an eviction, an arrest, or a repossession. “He’s protecting his family. That’s his job.”
Zo took two steps forward, looking down at Toby with total sincerity. “I came because I made a mistake, Toby. I didn’t pay attention to the people who take care of my home. Your sister works harder than anyone I know, and tonight, I realized I owed her more than just a paycheck. I came to make sure you were fed. And I came to make sure that tomorrow morning, nobody takes this family apart.”
Before Toby could process the answer, a violent, deafening bang shook the apartment door.
