Chapter 3 - THE STORM GATHERS
The drive back to our townhouse in Lincoln Park was spent in dead silence, save for the quiet whispers of the kids in the backseat.
"Mom, why was that man looking at us like he knew us?" Maya asked softly, her big dark eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror.
"He was just confused, sweetie," I lied, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. "Just someone from a very long time ago."
As soon as we got home, I ushered the twins upstairs to their playroom, locked the front door, and leaned against it, my heart hammering like a trapped bird. I knew how Luca operated. He was a predator in business, a man who deployed vast armies of lawyers, private investigators, and fixers to get whatever he wanted. He wouldn't sleep tonight. By morning, he would know everything.
My phone rang. It was an unknown number.
I let it go to voicemail. Two seconds later, a text arrived:
I know they are mine, Nia. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. We are talking tonight.
I slammed the phone face-down on the counter.
An hour later, a sleek black town car pulled up to the curb outside my house. My heart leaped into my throat, but it wasn't Luca who stepped out. It was Marco Rossi—Luca's head of personal security and a man who had always been kind to me during my marriage.
I opened the front door before he could ring the bell. "Marco. If he sent you to intimidate me—"
"He didn't, Mrs. Moretti—apologies, Ms. Carter," Marco said softly, standing at the bottom of the steps with his hands folded politely. "Mr. Moretti is... unraveled. I haven't seen him like this in the twenty years I've worked for him."
"He has no right to unravel," I said coldly. "He chose his path."
"He asked me to deliver this," Marco said, holding out a thick leather bound folder. "It's the medical files from his appointments over the last two years. And a letter written in his own hand."
I hesitated before taking the folder. "Tell him to stay away from my children, Marco."
Marco looked at me with genuine sympathy. "With all due respect, Nia... those kids are his spitting image. He spent seven years thinking he was broken, only to find out you bore his legacy in secret. He won't stay away. He can't."
After Marco left, I sat at my dining room table and opened the folder. The medical reports were clear: Luca was entirely fertile. But it was the handwritten letter that made my hands shake.
Nia,
I don't expect your forgiveness. I know how I left you. I know what I allowed you to believe. But looking at those two children today... I felt a part of my soul return that I thought died years ago. They have my eyes. They have my blood.
May you like
I am coming to see you tomorrow morning. You can have your lawyers present, or you can talk to me alone. But you will not hide my son and daughter from me ever again.
— Luca
