Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the PastThe silence stretching between our table and the entryway felt heavier than the forty floors of Moretti Global headquarters.
"Luca, stop!" Evelyn hissed, finally catching up to him, her pristine composure cracking at the edges as she realized he was marching straight toward a quiet family table in the corner. "Everyone is watching. Who are—"
She cut herself off as she reached his side and her eyes landed on us.
Evelyn’s gaze darted from my face to the children, and then back to Luca. Even without knowing our history, the resemblance was too blindingly obvious to ignore. The dark hair, the sharp cheekbones, the undeniable presence—it was as if someone had taken photographs of Luca from his private boarding school days and shrunk them down.
"Nia," Luca breathed.
The name sounded less like a greeting and more like a prayer uttered by a dying man. He stopped three feet from our table, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles stark white.
"Hello, Luca," I managed to say, my voice steady, though my heart was hammering a violent rhythm against my ribs. I forced myself to pick up my water glass, taking a deliberate sip just to prove my hands weren't trembling.
"You're... you're back in Chicago," he stammered, a rare loss of words for the man who routinely bullied corporate boards into submission.
"I never really left," I replied evenly. "Chicago is a big city, Luca. It's easy to hide in plain sight if you know where to look."
"Hide?" His voice cracked, the baritone dropping into a raw, dangerous register. His dark eyes flicked down to Lily, then to Lucas, before snapping back to my face. "From whom? From me?"
"Why would I hide from you?" I tilted my head, letting a cold, polite smile touch my lips. "Our divorce was final four years ago. You got your penthouse, your freedom, and your clean slate. I got my privacy. It was a fair trade."
"Fair?" Luca let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh that sounded like breaking glass. He took another step forward, ignoring the gasps from nearby diners. "You disappeared without a trace! No forwarding address, no phone number, scrubbed your entire digital footprint clean within forty-eight hours! And all this time..."
He choked on the words, his gaze falling back to the twins, who were now watching him with wide, curious eyes.
"Luca, what is he talking about?" Evelyn demanded, stepping between us, her voice shrill and trembling with humiliation. She looked at me, her eyes flashing with venom. "Who are these children? What is he looking at?"
"Ask your husband, Evelyn," I said softly, setting my glass down with a crisp clink. "He's very good at figuring out puzzles. Give him a minute; he'll connect the dots."
"Nia, please," Luca whispered, ignoring Evelyn entirely. He took a desperate half-step forward, his voice dropping to a ragged plea. "We need to talk. Privately. Outside. Now."
"There is nothing for us to talk about, Luca," I said, standing up smoothly from the booth and pulling the children gently to their feet. I dropped two black American Express centurion cards—ones I hadn't used in years, but kept just in case—onto the linen tablecloth to cover the untouched lunch. "We were just leaving."
"You aren't going anywhere," Luca growled, his protective, possessive instincts flaring to life with terrifying force. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.
The second his skin touched mine, a shockwave of electricity rippled up my arm. Memories flashed behind my eyes—late nights in our first cramped apartment, laughing over takeout, the warmth of his chest against mine before the coldness set in.
I didn't flinch. I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, then raised my eyes to meet his with absolute, freezing defiance.
"Let go of me, Luca," I whispered. "Unless you want me to make a very loud scene about harassment in front of every reporter, investor, and judge currently dining in this room."
His jaw worked furiously. He stared at me, realizing the trap he was in. If he made a scene, the tabloids would have a field day dissecting the secret family of Chicago’s most eligible billionaire.
Slowly, agonizingly, Luca’s fingers uncurled from my wrist.
I looked down at Lily and Lucas. "Hold my hands, kids. We're going."
May you like
As we walked past him toward the exit, Luca didn't move. He stood frozen in the center of Aurelia, watching his children walk away—children he had spent years assuming were an impossibility, children he had abandoned because he believed the cruelest lie of all: that I was broken.
Little did he know, the real destruction was only just beginning.
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