Chapter 2
The dining room descended into a silence so heavy it felt hard to breathe.
Luca didn’t move. He didn’t blink.
He just stared at his mother, Isabella Moretti, who was sitting at the head of the table with a perfectly composed smile that was slowly cracking.
“Grace,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “What did you just say?”
My four-year-old daughter shrank back against his broad chest, sensing the shift in the room's temperature.
“That lady,” Grace whispered, pointing a small finger at Isabella. “She came to our apartment when it was raining. She gave Mommy a big envelope and said if we didn’t go away, bad men would hurt you.”
Isabella slammed her wine glass down. The crystal shattered, spilling red wine across the white tablecloth like blood.
“Luca, you cannot possibly believe the imagination of a child!” Isabella scoffed, standing up. “Or the lies of a gold-digger who has clearly coached her brat to say this.”
I stepped forward, my hands trembling but my spine straight.
“I never coached her to say anything,” I said. “Because I never knew you were the one who sent those men, Isabella.”
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes searching my face. “What envelope, Emily?”
“The one with fifty thousand dollars in cash,” I replied, my voice breaking. “The one your men left on my kitchen table five years ago, along with a forged annulment paper.”
Vanessa, still standing near the archway, let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, please! You took the money and ran, and now that you’ve blown through it, you’re back for more. Luca, throw this trash out.”
Luca didn’t look at Vanessa. He kept his eyes on his mother.
“Is it true?” he asked softly.
Isabella lifted her chin. “I did what I had to do to protect this family’s legacy. She was a waitress, Luca! She had nothing to offer you!”
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter. He gently set Grace down on her feet, holding her small hand in his.
“You told me she had an abortion,” Luca whispered, the betrayal carving deep lines into his face. “You told me she left because she couldn’t handle our life.”
“She couldn’t!” Isabella shouted, losing her aristocratic composure. “Look at her! A maid!”
Luca reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a worn, silver pocket watch. It was the same watch I had given him on our wedding day, bought from a pawn shop with my tip money.
“I kept this,” he said, his voice raw. “Every single day for five years, I kept this, believing the woman who gave it to me never loved me. And you knew.”
Isabella took a step back. “Luca—”
“Get out,” he said.
“This is my home!”
“It was,” Luca corrected, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “Pack your things. Both of you.” He finally looked at Vanessa. “The wedding is off.”
Vanessa shrieked, but Luca had already turned his back on them. He knelt down to my eye level.
“Emily,” he said, his voice breaking. “I swear on my life, I didn’t know.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But five years of terror didn't vanish in a night.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, pulling Grace behind my legs. “We don’t belong here. I just want my final paycheck so I can feed my daughter.”
Luca reached out to touch my cheek, but stopped just before his fingers brushed my skin.
“You aren't leaving,” he said. “You are my wife. This is your house.”
Before I could argue, his head of security, Marco, stepped into the dining room, looking pale.
“Boss,” Marco interrupted, holding up a manila folder. “I just pulled the security logs from five years ago. You need to see this. Your mother didn’t act alone.”
May you like
Luca opened the folder. His face drained of all color.
He looked up at me, his eyes wide with horror. “Emily... your father was the one who drove the getaway car.”
