Chapter 2 - THE LETTER LUCA NEVER READ
I took Eli and Emma home before I answered another question.
My apartment was only fifteen minutes from the restaurant, but the drive felt endless.
Eli sat quietly in the back seat.
Emma watched me through the mirror.
Normally, the twins filled every car ride with questions.
That afternoon, their silence frightened me more than noise would have.
When we reached our building, Eli waited until I locked the apartment door.
“Is that man our dad?”
There was no gentle way to answer anymore.
I knelt in front of them.
“He is your biological father.”
Emma blinked.
“But you said our dad wasn’t part of our life.”
“That was true.”
“Does he know us?”
“No.”
“Why?”
That was the question I had feared for six years.
“Because things happened between the adults before you were born.”
Eli frowned.
“Did he leave us?”
My heart cracked.
“No.”
At least I no longer knew if that was true.
“I need to understand what happened before I can explain everything.”
My phone started ringing.
LUCA MORETTI appeared on the screen.
I had not seen his number in years.
I declined the call.
He called again.
Then again.
Finally, a text arrived.
Please talk to me.
I stared at those four words.
Seven years earlier, I had begged him for exactly that.
Seven years earlier, he had not answered.
After the twins fell asleep, I opened a fireproof box from the back of my closet.
Inside were their birth certificates.
Hospital bracelets.
Ultrasound photographs.
And one yellow envelope.
I had kept it all these years.
The envelope contained a copy of the letter I sent Luca when I was nine weeks pregnant.
I remembered writing it at two in the morning.
My hands had shaken so badly that I ruined the first three pages.
Luca,
I went to the doctor today because I thought stress was making me sick.
I’m pregnant.
The doctor says everything looks normal.
I know we are divorced.
I know you may not want me anymore.
But these babies are yours, and you deserve to know.
Please call me.
Nia.
I had mailed the original to Moretti Global using certified delivery.
Someone signed for it.
Three days later, I received a short email from an address belonging to Luca’s private office.
Nia,
Our marriage is over.
Do not use this situation to reopen something that has ended.
If there is a legitimate legal matter, contact counsel.
Please do not contact Luca privately again.
I had read that message until the words blurred.
I believed Luca had ordered someone to send it.
I stopped trying.
Maybe that had been my greatest mistake.
At 11:18 that night, someone knocked on my apartment door.
I checked the security camera.
Luca stood in the hallway.
Alone.
No driver.
No security team.
No Evelyn.
I opened the door but kept the chain attached.
“You cannot appear at my home.”
“I need five minutes.”
“You have two children sleeping twenty feet away.”
His expression changed when I said children.
Not twins.
Not them.
Children.
His children.
“I never received a letter.”
I stared at him.
“You received it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Someone signed for it at your office.”
“Nia, I swear to you.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I never knew you were pregnant.”
I wanted to slam the door.
Instead, I went to the box.
I returned with the email.
I slid it through the gap.
Luca read it.
The color drained from his face.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He looked down at the signature.
Then back at me.
“I never authorized this.”
I watched his eyes move across the page again.
And then I saw recognition.
Not of the message.
Of something else.
“The wording.”
He whispered the words almost to himself.
“What?”
May you like
Luca looked toward the elevator.
“This sounds like Evelyn.”
