Chapter 10 - THE NEW MORNING
Sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti kitchen, reflecting brightly off the white marble countertops. It was a Saturday morning, three days after the confrontation at the paper mill, and the house felt entirely different.
The heavy, oppressive silence that Vanessa had enforced for months was gone. In its place was the sound of a fourteen-year-old boy laughing.
"You're burning them, Luca!" Samuel shouted, standing near the stove in his pajamas.
"I am not burning them, I am achieving a perfect, crispy edge," Luca argued playfully, using a silver spatula to flip a severely charred pancake. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, looking completely out of place in a kitchen he usually only walked through to get coffee.
I stood near the sink, washing fresh strawberries, trying and failing to hide my smile.
"They look like hockey pucks," Samuel teased.
"Eat your hockey pucks and be grateful, kid," Luca grinned, sliding two burnt circles onto a plate and setting them in front of his brother at the breakfast island.
Samuel doused them in syrup and took a bite, his face instantly scrunching in disgust. "Yep. Charcoal."
Luca chuckled, leaning against the counter next to me. Our shoulders brushed, and my heart did that strange, fluttering thing it had been doing every time he was near me over the last three days.
"I suppose you could do better?" Luca asked me, raising an eyebrow.
"I could do better with my eyes closed, Luca," I replied smoothly, passing a bowl of sliced strawberries to Samuel.
"Show off," he muttered, though his eyes were warm and bright.
Since the night of the engagement dinner, the formal boundaries between us had completely dissolved. I still did my job, but I was no longer just the housekeeper. I was eating meals with them. I was helping Samuel with his homework. I was sitting on the couch with Luca in the evenings, quietly discussing plans for Samuel's new bedroom furniture.
It felt dangerously like a family.
And that was exactly why I knew I had to leave.
After breakfast, while Samuel was in the living room playing a video game, I went up to my small room in the staff wing. I sat at my desk and pulled out a plain piece of white stationery.
My mother’s health had stabilized thanks to the world-class specialists Luca had immediately hired. The crushing financial burden was gone. Samuel was safe, legally adopted, and fiercely protected. My job here—the emotional labor of keeping a broken boy from shattering—was done.
More importantly, my feelings for Luca were growing too intense to hide. He was a wealthy, powerful man. I was the hired help. The tender moments in the hallway, the lingering looks over breakfast—they were a product of adrenaline and gratitude. Once life returned to normal, he would realize that. I didn't want to be around when he did.
I wrote out a formal, two-week letter of resignation.
I folded it carefully, my heart aching with every crease. I walked down the hall to Luca’s massive home office. The door was slightly ajar.
I knocked softly. "Luca?"
"Come in, Hannah," his deep voice called out.
I pushed the door open. Luca was sitting behind his massive oak desk, wearing a pair of reading glasses, looking over some financial documents. He took the glasses off and smiled as I walked in.
"Hey. What's up? Is Sammy complaining about my cooking again?"
"No," I forced a small smile, walking over to the desk. "He's busy beating a high score."
I placed the folded white envelope on the center of his desk.
Luca looked at the envelope. His smile slowly faded. He didn't touch it. He looked up at me, his dark eyes instantly reading my posture.
"What is this?" he asked quietly.
"It's my resignation, Luca," I said, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to keep it professional. "I'm giving my two weeks' notice."
Luca leaned back in his leather chair. He didn't look angry, just deeply confused. "Did something happen? Did one of the staff disrespect you? Is it your mother?"
"No, my mother is doing wonderfully, thanks to you," I said quickly. "And the staff is fine. It’s just... Samuel is safe now. The house is stable. You don't need a live-in housekeeper to run interference anymore. I think it’s time I moved on and found a position closer to my mother."
Luca stared at me for a long time. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Slowly, he picked up the envelope. He didn't open it. He held it in his large hands and deliberately tore it in half, then in half again, tossing the pieces into the wastebasket beside his desk.
My eyes widened. "Luca, you can't just—"
"You're not quitting, Hannah," he said flatly, standing up from his chair.
"It’s my job," I argued, taking a step back as he walked around the desk. "I get to decide when I leave."
"You think this is about a job?" Luca asked, stopping a few feet away from me. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "You think I care who cleans the floors or washes the windows?"
"Then why won't you let me leave?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Luca reached out, gently taking my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, sending a wave of heat up my arm.
"Because I found a ticket in Sammy's coat pocket yesterday," Luca said softly.
I frowned, confused. "We already dealt with the hospital ticket, Luca."
"Not that ticket," Luca said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. He pressed it into my palm.
I looked down. It was a faded train ticket.
It was dated two years ago. A one-way ticket from a small town in Ohio to Chicago.
My heart completely stopped. I stared at the ticket, then up at Luca, absolute panic rising in my throat.
"Where did you get this?" I breathed.
"Sammy found it tucked inside the lining of Dad's coat. Near where the hospital claim ticket was hidden," Luca said gently. "Dad didn't just hide evidence against the Bellinis, Hannah. He hid this, too."
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Luca stepped closer, his eyes searching my face.
"Why did my father hide a two-year-old train ticket belonging to you?" Luca asked, his voice filled with a desperate need to understand. "Who were you running from, Hannah?"
