Part 2 — Mr. Grumpy’s List
Part 2 — Mr. Grumpy’s List
For three days, Mia updated the board.
Nobody asked her to.
Nobody dared stop her.
Every morning, she marched into the grand hall with her crayons and added a new entry beneath the heading MR. GRUMPY.
On the first day, she wrote:
Did not say goodbye to Mommy. — 1
On the second day:
Frowned at the gardener for no reason. — 2
On the third day, she added a new section.
GOOD THINGS
She left it completely empty.
When Elena asked why, Mia looked at her mother seriously.
“I need space.”
“Space for what?”
“For when he does something good.”
Elena didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She chose neither.
She simply kissed her daughter’s forehead.
Meanwhile, Aleandro walked past the granite column at least four times every day.
He never acknowledged the board.
He never looked at it directly.
At least, that’s what everyone pretended.
But the servants noticed something.
He had started noticing himself.
He noticed the way he put his coffee down without saying anything.
He noticed the young maid dusting the staircase and realized he had walked past her without saying good morning.
He noticed the old butler flinch almost invisibly whenever Aleandro raised his voice on the phone.
None of those things had ever bothered him before.
Now they did.
On the fourth morning, a nervous young tea steward entered Aleandro’s study.
The young man couldn’t have been more than twenty-two.
He carefully poured tea into Aleandro’s cup.
Aleandro looked at the paperwork on his desk.
Then, without thinking, he said,
“Thank you.”
The young steward froze.
The silver pot tilted in his hand.
A single drop of tea landed on the saucer.
“Y-yes, sir.”
He swallowed.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
He backed out of the study.
Then he bowed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The moment the door closed, he hurried into the hallway.
The old butler looked at him.
“What happened?”
The young man stared at him.
“He thanked me.”
The butler blinked.
“Who?”
The young steward whispered,
“Mr. Moretti.”
Twenty minutes later, Mia stood on tiptoe beside the granite column.
She carefully scratched out the zero beneath SAID THANK YOU.
Then she drew a large yellow 1.
Underneath, she added a crooked five-pointed star.
She stepped back.
She smiled.
Then she gently patted the granite column.
“Good job, Mr. Grumpy.”
Unfortunately, the good behavior didn’t last long.
That afternoon, a call came from Newark.
Aleandro listened for eleven seconds.
His expression darkened.
His shoulders stiffened.
His hand curled into a fist.
“I don’t care what excuse you have,” he said.
His voice became colder.
“I gave you one job.”
He slammed his fist onto the desk.
The crystal glass jumped.
The pen rolled across the leather surface.
Then, from somewhere outside the half-open office door, came a tiny voice.
“Mr. Grumpy just made the scary face.”
Aleandro stopped.
“I’m writing it down.”
Silence.
The man on the phone waited.
“Boss?”
Aleandro’s eyes remained fixed on the doorway.
“Sir, are you still there?”
He slowly lowered his voice.
“Yes.”
He finished the conversation in three short sentences.
Then he carefully placed the phone on the desk.
He didn’t slam it.
He didn’t swear.
He simply stared at the empty doorway.
Outside, Giovanni stood at his usual position.
The giant bodyguard had heard Aleandro break a phone over much smaller problems.
But this time, Giovanni wasn’t worried about the phone.
He was worried about the little girl.
And about the strange effect she seemed to have on his boss.
That evening, Elena received an unexpected summons.
The old butler found her in the laundry room.
“Miss Rossi.”
Elena turned.
“Mr. Moretti would like to see you in his office.”
Her heart dropped.
“Now?”
The butler nodded.
“If you please.”
Elena immediately knew what this meant.
She set down the folded towels.
She smoothed the front of her uniform.
Then she checked her reflection in the polished side of a silver tray.
Not to see whether she looked beautiful.
She was checking for tears.
She didn’t want him to see her cry.
She walked down the long hallway toward the heavy office door.
Her legs felt strangely distant from her body.
She knocked once.
“Come in.”
Elena opened the door.
Aleandro sat behind his desk.
A folder lay open in front of him.
He turned a page.
Made a small mark in the margin.
He didn’t offer her a chair.
He didn’t even look up.
“Your daughter,” he said.
Elena’s fingers tightened together.
“Yes, sir?”
“How old is she?”
The question sounded simple.
But Elena felt something was wrong.
“Three.”
Aleandro turned another page.
“Name?”
“Mia.”
He finally paused.
“Mia what?”
“Mia Rossi.”
Aleandro nodded.
Then he looked down again.
“You may go.”
Elena stood there.
Her heart was pounding.
She had expected anger.
Dismissal.
Perhaps even punishment.
But this?
She couldn’t understand it.
“Sir…”
Aleandro’s eyes lifted.
Elena swallowed.
“You’re not letting us go?”
For the first time, something shifted in his expression.
He stared at her for a moment.
Then he said quietly,
“Not yet.”
Elena lowered her head.
She didn’t trust herself to speak.
She turned and walked out.
She closed the door softly behind her.
Only once she was alone in the hallway did she press her forehead against the cool wooden paneling.
Her shoulders shook once.
Only once.
Then she forced herself to breathe.
Inside the office, Aleandro remained still.
He slowly turned his chair toward the tall window.
Outside, the sky over the estate had turned deep blue and gold.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey.
But he didn’t drink it.
His fingers rested against the glass as an old memory surfaced.
A summer afternoon.
Hot pavement.
A stray cat.
A group of boys throwing stones.
And a young girl standing between them and the frightened
