Chapter 3: The Thousand-Dollar Tip
When he finally left, she discovered a one-thousand-dollar tip on a three-hundred-dollar meal.
She tried to return it.
Running out to the parking lot where his sleek black Bentley waited.
His driver stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Mr. Castellano doesn’t make mistakes,” he said.
His tone made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option.
She accepted the money with shaking hands.
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
Torn between gratitude for the money that would cover Lily’s medications and a creeping dread she couldn’t name.
Lily had already been asleep when Mrs. Patel brought her home.
Ellie checked on her daughter twice, three times, making sure she was still breathing.
The asthma attacks always came at night.
Always when Ellie was least prepared.
She sat on the edge of Lily’s bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
The thousand dollars in her purse felt like poison.
Like a contract she hadn’t read but had already signed.
The next day, an enormous bouquet of white lilies arrived at her apartment.
No card.
No explanation needed.
She knew who they were from.
It terrified her that he knew where she lived.
She considered running.
Packing a bag, taking Lily, disappearing to another state.
But where would she go?
How would she survive?
The thousand dollars was already allocated to Lily’s medical fund.
She couldn’t afford to be proud.
The day after that, a piano was delivered.
A gleaming black baby grand that dominated her tiny living room.
The delivery men refused to take it back.
Insisting that everything had been paid for, including one year of professional tuning services.
That night, as Lily delightedly banged on the keys, she stood at her window.
Certain she could feel eyes watching her from the black SUV parked across the street.
For the next week, expensive gifts arrived daily.
Designer clothes in exactly her size.
Children’s books for Lily.
Gourmet food deliveries.
She donated the clothes.
Kept the books because Lily had already fallen in love with them.
Shared the food with her elderly neighbors.
She tried to avoid him when he returned to the restaurant the following week.
Asking another server to take his table.
But her manager pulled her aside, his face pale.
“Mr. Castellano specifically requested you, Ellie,” he said, adjusting his tie nervously.
“He’s not a man we can say no to.”
And so it began.
Twice a week, he would come to Bellini’s.
Always requesting her section.
He rarely spoke beyond ordering.
But his eyes followed her constantly.
Dark and possessive.
The tips were always extravagant.
The gifts continued to arrive at her apartment despite her never having given him her address.
She should have quit.
Should have moved.
Should have done something.
But the tips alone were paying for Lily’s medications and building a savings account she’d never been able to manage before.
Every time she told herself it was just for Lily.
Every time, she almost believed it.
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