“She resigned,” Dante said.
“Before or after the indoor water balloon?”
Matteo whispered, “After the syrup trap.”
Claire nodded. “Good to know.”
Dante stepped into the room. The triplets retreated without meaning to. One step. Then another. Claire did not move.
“You understand this position is live-in,” Dante said.
“That’s what the ad said.”
“You understand privacy is not optional in this house.”
“I wasn’t planning to start a podcast.”
Henry coughed into his fist.
Dante’s expression did not change, but something in his eyes shifted. Annoyance, maybe. Or curiosity dressed as annoyance.
“You have a daughter,” he said.
Claire’s spine went tight. “Yes.”
“Rosie Beaumont. Seven. Second grade. Public school. Lunch balance overdue.”
Her face went hot. The boys were watching now. Watching him. Watching her.
“You researched me,” Claire said.
“I research everyone who enters my home.”
“My daughter doesn’t enter your home.”
“Not yet.”
The words landed hard.
Claire took one step closer. “Let me make something clear, Mr. Rinaldi. I’m broke, not desperate enough to let you use my child as a file note.”
The room went silent.
Henry stopped breathing.
Dante looked at her for a long time. Most people, Claire suspected, filled silences around Dante Rinaldi with apologies. She had waited too many tables for too many entitled men to be impressed by silence. Silence was just unpaid labor if you let someone else own it.
Finally, Dante said, “I meant no insult.”
“That sounded almost painful for you.”
“It was.”
Matteo’s mouth dropped open. Nico stared. Luca looked between his father and Claire as if she had just slapped a lion and survived.
Dante turned to Henry. “Prepare the contract.”
Henry blinked. “You’re offering her the position?”