When the maid returned, she looked even more uncomfortable.
“Mr. Ferrara… Mrs. Valentina asked me to tell you that she is also tired and will not be coming down to dinner.”
This time, my hand curled into a fist on the table so tightly my knuckles ached.
If Valentina believed I was going to allow her to challenge me in my own house—deliberately, publicly, through staff—she was out of her mind.
I kept my voice low, controlled, but sharp enough to leave no doubt.
“Go back,” I said. “And tell my wife her presence is not optional. I’m not eating without her.”
The maid flinched at the hardness in my tone and hurried away.
I waited, fury simmering beneath my composure. When she returned again—visibly rattled—I knew Valentina had pushed it further.
“What did she say?” I asked, my voice dry as steel.
“She…” The maid’s voice wavered. “Mrs. Valentina said she’s truly very tired, and she regrets deeply that it means you’ll have to fast tonight, but she won’t be joining you.”
For a beat, I simply stared at the maid.
“She regrets,” I repeated slowly, the words laced with dangerous irony. “Deeply.”
“Yes, sir,” the maid said, trembling. “She said… deeply.”
I inhaled.
Not to calm down.
To make a decision.
“Fine,” I said, rising in one smooth motion. “Bring everything up. Set it on a cart and take it upstairs. If my wife is too tired to come down, I’ll spare her the effort.”
The staff stared for half a second—stunned—then moved quickly, as they always did when my voice left no room for interpretation.
I walked toward the stairs, already anticipating the look on Valentina’s face when she opened that door. If she wouldn’t come down, I would go up.
I knocked twice—only because I knew she’d assume it was another staff member.
Footsteps rushed on the other side. The handle turned fast.
A cold smile lifted at the corner of my mouth.
“Tell Mr. Ferrara that—” Valentina froze mid-sentence when she saw me.
I stood there with a faintly amused expression, the dinner cart just behind me.
“Well,” I murmured, stepping into the room before she could recover or block me, “what a pleasant surprise to find you so full of energy, my dear wife.”
She stepped back instinctively, shock and indignation tightening her features as I crossed the threshold.
Behind me, the staff rolled the cart in and began setting the table with professional speed.
“You have lost your mind,” Valentina said, finally finding her voice. She stayed near the door as if proximity alone could keep control. “You can’t just barge into my room like this.”
I turned slowly to face her, holding her gaze with deliberate calm.
A faint smile returned, colder this time, as I stepped closer and lowered my voice so only she could hear.
