Angela’s face appeared on the screen.
She did not waste time.
“Mezza Notte will remain closed for at least three weeks,” she said. “Possibly longer if the fire inspector finds structural damage behind the loading wall.”
Yelena’s hand stopped halfway to her coffee.
Angela continued. “The guard from the produce yard needs another operation. The doctors expect him to recover, but he’ll be out of work for a while.”
“What about the staff?” I asked.
“Forty-three employees,” Angela said. “Kitchen, service, delivery, cleaners. Tonio has spoken to most of them. They’re frightened.”
“And the payroll?”
Angela’s mouth tightened.
“Halberd froze the Caruso payroll account at four this morning. They used a compliance review as cover. It’s legal enough to take time. Illegal enough to be intentional.”
Yelena placed her cup down very carefully.
“They froze payroll,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“Not Tonio’s accounts. Not only the restaurant property.”
“No,” Angela said softly. “They froze the account that reaches ordinary workers first.”
That was Gianni’s style when he wanted to prove a point. He did not just attack the people who stood against him. He made every innocent person near them feel the cost of resistance.
Yelena looked at the screen.
“Give me their names.”
Angela paused.
“Yelena—”
“Every employee. Their normal hours. Their wage rates. Any dependents if you have them. The guard’s medical cost estimate. The contractor estimate for repairs. The outstanding supplier invoices.”
Her voice had gone flat. Controlled. Too controlled.
I understood what she was asking without saying it. Do I stop her?
Not yet.
Angela transferred the file.
Yelena opened it before the screen had finished loading. Names appeared in rows. She began writing numbers on a pad beside her plate. Forty-three workers. Three weeks. Four weeks, because she did not trust optimistic estimates.
The injured guard’s hospital bills.
Lost delivery income.
Emergency kitchen contracts.
Her mouth moved silently as she calculated.