Chapter 3 - Collision Course
“Nia,” Luca breathed.
His voice was a low, fractured gravel sound that I had never heard come from him before. He pulled out an empty chair at our booth without waiting for an invitation and sat down heavily, ignoring the stunned gasps of patrons nearby who recognized the formidable mafia boss sitting uninvited at a family table.
Evelyn had hurried over, her face flushed with embarrassment and growing panic. “Luca, what on earth are you doing? People are staring. Let’s go back to our table—”
“Shut up, Evelyn,” Luca snapped, his eyes never flickering away from me. It wasn't shouted, but the absolute lethal ice in his tone made Evelyn flinch as if she had been physically struck. She stepped back, her mouth parting in shock. In all their years of marriage, Luca had never spoken to her like that.
I pulled my children slightly closer to me, my maternal instincts flaring into white-hot protection. “Don't you dare come over here and cause a scene in front of my children, Luca. Whatever you think you see, you need to turn around and walk right back to your wife.”
Luca swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. His hand trembled—just slightly, a microscopic tremor that only someone who had spent years studying his every micro-expression would notice—as he reached across the white tablecloth.
“Nia,” he repeated, his gaze darting between Leo and Chloe. The resemblance was so painfully acute it felt like a physical blow to the chest. Leo had his nose, his jawline, and that same intense, analytical spark in his eyes. Chloe had my smile, but she possessed Luca’s unnerving habit of tapping her index finger against her thumb when she was deep in thought.
“How old?” Luca whispered, the words barely clearing his lips.
“Go away, Luca,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “You made your choice five years ago. You built your empire, you married your society queen, and you left me behind in the snow. Leave us alone.”
“How old are they, Nia?” he demanded louder this time, his voice cracking with an emotion he was desperately trying to suppress. He looked at Leo, then down at Chloe, and the math finally clicked in his sharp, analytical brain. Five years. Born roughly eight months after our divorce was finalized.
“Mom, who is this weird man?” Leo repeated, sliding closer to my side and eyeing Luca with defensive hostility. “Why is he yelling at you?”
“I’m not yelling, buddy,” Luca said softly, his voice softening into a desperate, agonizing gentleness that broke my heart all over again. He reached a large, warm hand out toward Leo’s shoulder, but I slapped his wrist away instantly.
“Don't touch him,” I hissed, my eyes blazing with years of accumulated fury. “You don't get to walk into our lives after half a decade of radio silence, act like a doting father, and pretend you didn't spend our entire marriage wishing I was someone else.”
Evelyn, realizing the catastrophic gravity of what was unfolding before her, stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Luca... what is he talking about? Who are these kids?”
Luca finally turned his head toward her, his expression entirely devoid of warmth. “They’re mine, Evelyn. They’re my children.”
May you like
The restaurant seemed to hold its collective breath. Evelyn staggered back as if she had been shot, her eyes widening in absolute horror as she looked from Luca to the twins, and finally to me. Without another word, she turned on her heel and practically fled the restaurant, leaving her coat draped over her abandoned chair.
Luca didn't even watch her leave. His entire world had narrowed down to the small wooden booth where I sat shielding my children.
