By the time I arrived at the office, it was almost 11:00 pm. The lights were still on. The moment I walked in, I knew the situation was worse than I had imagined.
Seven or eight people crowded around the conference table, everyone fully panicking. When they saw me enter, they looked up at once, and their eyes were flooded with relief as if I were their savior.
"Madre!"
The secretary rushed over, her eyes red. "You're finally here! We don't understand the contract clauses, and the other party's lawyer won't budge. They're flying out tomorrow morning. If we don't get this signed, the family will have to pay this much..."
She gestured at an astronomical figure.
I glanced over without speaking and walked straight to the table to pick up the contract. Three pages in, I found the problem.
"Here." I pointed to one clause. "The translation is wrong. What they actually mean is installment payments, not a lump sum."
Several people leaned in. After staring for a while, understanding finally dawned.
"I'll get the translator to redo it..."
"There's no time." I set the contract down. "Get me my pen."
I sat down and began making corrections line by line. When I reached the fourth clause, the conference room door opened. The sound of high heels clicked across the floor. I did not look up, but I knew who it was.
"Well, well… If it isn't our family's first-ever Madre to request a tribunal." Bianca's laugh dripped with false sweetness. She walked over while carrying the baby and leaned against the edge of the table, looking down at me.
"Why isn't my dear sister at home resting during her pregnancy? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you came to ask for child support."
The secretary bristled with anger, ready to snap back, but I stopped her with a look. I focused on revising the clauses, treating Bianca's words like background noise.
When Bianca saw that I would not take the bait, her smile froze for an instant. She glanced down at the pen in my hand, and her eyes shifted.
"That's a nice pen." She suddenly reached out. "Let me see it?"
Before I could react, she had already pulled the pen from my hand. It was a niche luxury fountain pen. Cesare had given it to me during our first year of marriage. It was not worth much anymore, but it had been with me for ten years.
"Give it back."
I looked up at her, frowning. Bianca held the pen up, turning it over in her hands. "It's just an old pen. Why are you so worked up? I'm just looking at it. I'm not keeping it."
She took a step back. "Go ahead and finish your contract. I'll give it back when I'm done looking."
I took a deep breath, suppressing my irritation. "Bianca, put the pen down."
"Oh my, are you actually getting angry?" She widened her eyes dramatically. "It's just a pen. Is it really that serious?"
She turned as if to walk away.
I finally lost my patience. I stood up, walked around the table, and approached her. The moment I reached out my hand, she screamed.
"Madre, what are you doing?" In the next instant, her arms loosened around the baby. The infant slipped from her grasp, and a heart-wrenching cry erupted.
Just then, the office door slammed open, and Cesare stormed in.
Bianca had fallen too. She sat on the floor with disheveled hair and her face streaked with tears.
"My baby! Don, check on my baby!"
He rushed forward, scooping up the wailing baby with one arm while helping Bianca up with the other. "What happened?"
Bianca collapsed against him, trembling all over and sobbing hysterically. Her shaking finger pointed at me.
"I just thought the Madre's pen was pretty and wanted to play with it. I didn't expect her to throw my baby to the floor!"
The baby was still crying. The shrill wail cut through the room like a knife slicing into everyone's hearts.
Cesare looked up at me. That gaze sent ice through my veins, and he said in a hoarse voice, "Giulia, the baby is only six months old. You hate me, and you hate her mother. You should've come after us. But you went after a child?"
"I didn't touch her."
"Then how did she fall?"
"She let go of the baby herself."
"She let go of the baby herself?" Cesare laughed, but it sounded awful.
"Giulia, listen to yourself. She was holding the baby and standing in front of you. You claim she intentionally dropped her own baby? You think she did it on purpose? She deliberately dropped her own child?"
I said nothing. What could I say? To anyone watching, my action of taking back the pen looked no different from pushing her.
Cesare handed the baby to someone nearby and walked toward the pen on the floor. There was a sharp crack, and the pen snapped. Ink gushed from the broken pieces, smearing across the sole of his shoe.
Ten years… He had just crushed the pen, which symbolized our time together, beneath his foot and ground it to pieces.
His voice turned cold as ice. "Giulia, since you insist on holding a family tribunal, then I'll grant you your wish."
