Chapter 2 - The Paper Fortress
My apartment in Lincoln Park had always been my sanctuary. It wasn't the seven-thousand-square-foot glass penthouse on Michigan Avenue with private elevator access and marble heated floors. It was a three-bedroom brick brownstone with creaky oak floorboards, tall windows overlooking a canopy of oak trees, and walls covered in the kids' finger-paintings and framed photos of our quiet weekend trips to Lake Michigan.
After leaving Luca, I had refused to take a single dime of his alimony. The divorce settlement sat untouched in a trust fund I had legally bound away. Instead, I had used my own degree in architectural design to open a small boutique firm. Over six years of late nights and relentless work, Carter Design Studio had grown into a respected, profitable business. I didn't need Moretti Global's money. I didn't need his prestige.
By 8:00 PM that evening, the kids were bathed and asleep in their twin beds. I sat at the kitchen island, holding a mug of chamomile tea that had long since gone cold, staring out the window at the rain slicking the pavement below.
I knew him too well. Luca didn't let things lie.
At 8:15 PM, a quiet, firm knock echoed through the hallway door. Not the frantic pounding of a panicked man, but the measured, heavy cadence of a man who owned the building—or was about to buy it.
I opened the door.
Luca stood in the dimly lit hallway. He had discarded his tie, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, his dark hair damp from the autumn rain. Behind him, standing at the top of the stairwell, was Sam Russo—his chief of security for fifteen years, a massive man who looked like he could stop a truck with his hands.
“I told Sam to stay on the street,” Luca said softly, his voice gravelly. “He refused. He remembers you, Nia. He remembers how much you used to bake for the security team at Christmas.”
“Sam is a good man,” I said, keeping my arm braced against the doorframe, blocking the entry. “You shouldn't be here, Luca.”
“They are my children, Nia,” Luca said. The vulnerability he had shown at the restaurant was gone, replaced by a desperate, electric intensity that vibrated off him in waves. “They are my son and my daughter. You kept them from me for six years.”
“I didn't keep them from you,” I snapped, my quiet composure finally cracking. “I protected them from the world you live in! I protected them from a father who looked at me with disappointment every time my period arrived! Do you remember how you treated me those last six months, Luca? You didn't speak to me! You slept in the guest room! You let your mother, Beatrice, tell the press that the Moretti lineage was dying out because of my 'delicate constitution'!”
Luca winced as if I had struck him across the jaw. He stepped closer, his large hand coming up to touch the wooden doorframe, inches from my fingers.
“I was an idiot,” Luca whispered, his eyes dark with immense, heavy anguish. “I was a coward, Nia. I let my mother’s obsession with legacy and my own stupid, arrogant pride ruin the best thing that ever happened to me. After you left... after the divorce was finalized... I realized the penthouse was an empty tomb. I didn't care about the money. I didn't care about the empire. I just wanted my wife back, but you had disappeared so completely that even my private investigators couldn't find you.”
“I changed my name back to Carter and moved to Seattle for three years,” I said coldly. “I built a life without your shadow over me.”
“And then you came back to Chicago?”
“My work brought me back two years ago,” I said. “Chicago is my home too, Luca. You don't own the city.”
Luca looked past my shoulder, gazing into the warm, yellow light of the apartment. He saw a wooden toy fire truck sitting on the entryway rug, a small pink backpack hanging from a coat hook, and a framed photograph on the wall showing me holding two tiny infants in the hospital six years ago.
A choked breath escaped his chest. “I missed their first steps. I missed their first words. I missed six years of their lives because I was too blind to see that the problem wasn't you... it was never you.”
“I heard about your visit to the specialists,” I said softly.
Luca looked up, startled. “How...?”
“Chicago’s medical community is small, Luca. A mutual acquaintance mentioned that you spent three months visiting top fertility clinics last year, only to be told your count and motility were perfect.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You blamed me for years because it was easier than admitting fate hadn't given you what you wanted on your exact timeline. The moment you realized you were healthy, you knew what you had done to me.”
Luca dropped his head, leaning his forehead against the cool wood of the doorframe. “I went to your old apartment in River North that same night,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “I sat in my car outside for four hours, holding the original divorce papers, praying to a God I hadn't spoken to in twenty years to give me a chance to beg for your forgiveness. But you were gone.”
“And now I am here,” I said quietly. “With two happy, healthy children who know nothing about mafia connections, billionaire rivalries, or grand legacies. They know me. They know their school. They know their friends.”
“I want to be their father, Nia,” Luca declared, lifting his head, his gray eyes flashing with an unyielding resolve that terrified me. “I will not be erased from their lives. I will give them everything. Every asset, every estate, every security detail, every opportunity in the world.”
“They don't want your assets, Luca! They want peace!” I stepped back and began to close the door. “Go home to Evelyn. Figure out your own life. But do not bring your corporate war into my home.”
Luca reached out, stopping the door with his palm before it could latch.
“Evelyn and I are finished,” Luca said flatly. “I filed the separation papers three weeks ago, long before I saw you today. The marriage was a business arrangement arranged by my mother, and it was the biggest mistake of my life after letting you walk away.”
He leaned in close, his voice dropping into a desperate promise.
“I am going to win them back, Nia,” Luca whispered. “And I am going to win you back. I don't care if it takes every dollar I own, every year I have left, or every ounce of strength in my body. You are my family. You have always been my family.”
May you like
He released the door and stepped back into the shadows of the hallway.
I locked the deadbolt, leaned my back against the heavy wood, and slid down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest as the tears I had held back for six years finally spilled over my cheeks.
