Chapter 11 - THE SUNDAY DINNER
Sunday afternoon at the Moretti suburban home was beautiful chaos.
The smell of roasting garlic, fresh basil, and baked ziti wafted through the large, open-concept kitchen. Music played softly from a speaker on the counter.
“Emily! You’re putting too much cheese!” Anna laughed, gently slapping my hand away from the ricotta bowl.
“There is no such thing as too much cheese, Anna,” I shot back, wiping my hands on a towel.
“Auntie Em is right!” Sophia chimed in from the kitchen island, where she was furiously coloring a new drawing.
I walked over and kissed the top of Sophia’s head. “What are you drawing today, sweetie?”
She proudly held up the paper. It was a drawing of a giant, wonky-looking house with stick figures outside. “It’s a castle. For you and Uncle Luca.”
My face flushed hot as Anna burst out laughing.
“She’s perceptive,” Anna winked, carrying a tray of garlic bread to the oven.
The back door slid open, and Luca walked in with Michael, both men carrying firewood for the backyard fire pit. Luca caught my eye across the kitchen, giving me a slow, devastating wink that made my stomach flip.
It was a picture-perfect afternoon.
But as we sat down at the massive oak dining table, a sudden knock at the front door made the laughter quiet down.
“Are we expecting someone?” Michael asked, frowning.
“I didn't invite anyone else,” Anna said, wiping her hands.
Luca stood up, his protective instincts instantly flaring. “I’ll get it.”
I followed closely behind him into the foyer.
Luca opened the heavy wooden door.
Standing on the porch was a woman in her early fifties. She wore a faded trench coat, clutching a worn leather purse to her chest. She looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red, her hands shaking.
Luca’s posture stiffened. “Can I help you?”
The woman looked up. When she saw Luca, she flinched, recognizing him instantly.
“Mr. Moretti,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “My name is Clara Bellini. I’m Vanessa’s mother.”
A heavy silence dropped over the foyer.
I hadn't heard that name in six months. Dominic Bellini was serving a twenty-year sentence. Vanessa had pleaded down to assault and was serving three years in a minimum-security facility.
“What do you want, Clara?” Luca asked coldly. “Your family is no longer welcome here.”
Clara began to cry, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her purse.
“I know. I know what my husband did. I know what my daughter tried to do,” Clara sobbed. “I divorced Dominic the day he was arrested. I have nothing left. But I didn't come here for me.”
She held the paper out to Luca.
“Vanessa is pregnant, Luca.”
The world stopped spinning.
Luca stared at the paper. A medical record from the correctional facility.
“Pregnant?” Luca repeated, his voice dangerously low.
Clara nodded, wiping her face. “She’s six months along. She found out right after she was incarcerated.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Six months. That meant the child was conceived right before the anniversary dinner.
Luca looked at the paper, then back at Clara. “If you are here to ask for money or a lighter sentence for her—”
“No!” Clara interrupted desperately. “Vanessa doesn't want the baby. She blames the child for ruining her body. She signed away her parental rights yesterday.”
Clara looked at Luca with pleading, desperate eyes.
“The baby is a boy, Luca. He’s going to be born in prison, and he’s going to go straight into the foster system. Because as a convicted felon’s ex-wife with zero assets, the state won't let me take him.”
Clara fell to her knees on the porch, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Please, Luca. He’s your son. Don't let my grandson disappear into the system.”
A reversal so massive it shattered the peaceful afternoon.
May you like
Luca stepped back, his face pale. He looked at the medical paper in his hand, then turned to look at me standing in the hallway.
He was going to be a father. With the woman who had tried to destroy his family.
