Chapter 3 - The Moretti House
Luca did not take me to a hotel.
He took me to a limestone mansion on East Seventy-Third Street.
Two armed guards stood behind the iron gates.
Another waited beneath the portico.
I stared through the tinted window.
“This is your house?”
“One of them.”
Of course it was.
The car stopped.
A silver-haired woman hurried down the steps.
“Finally.”
Luca opened my door himself.
“Emma, this is Sofia.”
The woman ignored him and immediately looked at my daughter.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh.”
She pressed one hand against her mouth.
“Oh, Luca.”
He gave her a warning look.
Sofia recovered quickly.
“I’m sorry.”
She smiled at me.
“I’ve worked for the Moretti family for a very long time.”
Something about her reaction unsettled me.
“You look like you’ve seen my baby before.”
Sofia’s smile disappeared.
Luca stepped between us.
“Emma needs rest.”
That was the second time someone avoided my question.
Inside, a bedroom had already been prepared.
A bassinet stood beside the bed.
Diapers filled an entire cabinet.
Formula, bottles, blankets, and newborn clothes had been arranged with impossible precision.
I turned toward Luca.
“You knew I was coming here.”
“I prepared for the possibility.”
“You prepared a nursery?”
His expression did not change.
“Security prepared it.”
I almost laughed.
“Security picked out little yellow pajamas?”
Luca glanced at the pajamas.
“No.”
Sofia cleared her throat.
“I did.”
Luca looked annoyed.
I looked suspicious.
After the physician examined me and left, I finally sat on the edge of the bed.
My body ached.
My mind felt worse.
My daughter slept peacefully beside me.
Luca remained near the doorway.
“Tell me about my mother.”
He did not move.
“Not tonight.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“No.”
He looked at the baby.
“But exhaustion does.”
I hated that he was right.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
Something changed in his eyes.
“What?”
“Derek filed an emergency petition.”
“For what?”
“Paternity.”
I felt sick.
“After what he said?”
“He claims you prevented him from acknowledging the child.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I know.”
“He walked away.”
“I know.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain shot through my body.
Luca crossed the room immediately.
His hand hovered near my elbow but did not touch me.
“Sit.”
“I’m not letting him take her.”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
Luca’s voice became colder.
“I can.”
I stared at him.
“Because you own judges too?”
His expression hardened.
“No.”
Then he added quietly.
“Because Derek has a problem he does not yet know I discovered.”
“What problem?”
Luca removed a thin folder from inside his coat.
He placed it on the dresser.
The name printed across the top belonged to Derek.
Beneath it were photographs.
Bank transfers.
Hotel receipts.
And one fertility clinic invoice.
I picked it up.
My hands began shaking.
The appointment date was eleven months earlier.
Three weeks before I became pregnant.
The patient was Derek Cole.
The procedure listed beneath his name made no sense.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Luca watched me.
“What does this mean?”
My voice barely existed.
“It means Derek underwent a procedure five years ago that made natural conception extremely unlikely.”
I stared at the sleeping baby.
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“If Derek isn’t her father…”
Luca said nothing.
May you like
I felt the room tilt.
“Then who is?”
