“Go back to work, Anna.”
Anna should have. For five months she had ironed Luca Moretti’s shirts and cleaned rooms where men spoke quietly about warehouses, dock schedules, and debts that never reached a bank. She knew the first rule of a house like that: leave before anyone needs to remember your name.
But Daniel was standing there with his shoulders drawn in, watching mouths he couldn’t hear. The week before, he had stayed late to help her carry laundry downstairs and missed his bus home. Now the whole room was waiting for a confession he couldn’t give.
“He’s deaf,” Anna said.
Vanessa held out her bare right hand, her voice hardening. “He can understand me when I ask for my ring.”
Anna moved so that Daniel could see her face. Then she raised her hands and signed a question.
Do you know where the ring is?
His eyes locked onto hers. His answer came so fast she had to ask him to slow down.
Behind Vanessa, Luca Moretti set down his wineglass. “What did you ask him?” he said. “Whether he knows where her ring is. And does he?”