Chapter 2: The Truth Hidden Behind The Divorce
I stared at the message on my phone until the words blurred.
*Isabella, you need to know the truth about what Luca did the night you left...*
For seven months, I had convinced myself there were no more surprises.
I had packed my belongings.
I had signed the divorce papers.
I had left the penthouse overlooking Manhattan with nothing but two suitcases, a broken heart, and a secret growing inside me.
I thought the worst thing Luca could do was stop loving me.
I was wrong.
Because sometimes the thing that destroys you isn’t losing someone.
It’s finding out you never knew them at all.
"Who is that?"" Luca asked.
His voice was different now.
Not demanding.
Not suspicious.
Afraid.
I locked my phone screen.
"Nobody.""
His eyes narrowed.
"Liar.""
The word was quiet.
Almost familiar.
Once, Luca knew me better than anyone.
He knew when I was pretending to be fine.
He knew when I was angry before I admitted it.
He knew I hated thunderstorms because my mother used to tell me stories about lightning storms when I was a child and somehow convinced me they were monsters looking for children who stayed awake too late.
But now, he stood in front of me like I was a stranger.
"You're asking me about honesty?"" I said.
His jaw tightened.
"That's not fair.""
I looked at him.
"Fair?""
The boutique suddenly felt smaller.
The soft music playing from hidden speakers.
The expensive baby blankets folded perfectly on shelves.
The smell of fresh wood from handmade cribs.
Everything about this place was built around new beginnings.
And I was standing there with the man who had destroyed mine.
"Fair was me believing my husband when he said he would never betray me.""
Luca flinched.
Vanessa looked away.
That small movement told me more than any confession could have.
She knew.
Maybe not everything.
Maybe not the whole story.
But she knew enough.
Luca noticed her reaction too.
"Vanessa?""
She straightened.
"What?""
"Why did you look away?""
Her expression hardened.
"Because this isn't about me.""
I almost smiled.
There it was.
The same trick.
Redirect.
Change the subject.
Make everyone focus on anything except the truth.
But I was tired of protecting people who never protected me.
"It always becomes about you eventually," I said.
Vanessa's eyes snapped toward me.
"You don't know what you're talking about.""
"Actually, I know exactly what I'm talking about.""
Luca stepped between us.
"Stop.""
The command in his voice would have worked on almost anyone.
Employees.
Business partners.
People who feared his name.
It used to work on me too.
But I wasn't the woman who left his house seven months ago.
That woman was still in love with him.
This woman had learned how to survive without him.
"I have to go," I said.
Luca moved immediately.
"No.""
The word came out too quickly.
Too desperately.
I stopped.
He seemed surprised by his own reaction.
"Isabella...""
I waited.
For an apology.
For an explanation.
For something.
Anything.
But instead, he lowered his voice.
"Please.""
That hurt more than anger would have.
Because Luca Moretti did not beg.
Not for business deals.
Not for forgiveness.
Not for anything.
"I need answers," he said.
I looked at him.
"So do I.""
Then I walked away.
The rain started before I reached my apartment.
New York rain had a way of making everything feel heavier.
The streets reflected the city lights, turning every taxi and streetlamp into a blurry painting.
I placed one hand on my belly as I climbed the stairs.
My doctor had told me not to overdo it.
My sister had told me not to carry emotional stress.
Everyone had advice.
Nobody had been there at three in the morning when I woke up crying because my baby kicked and Luca wasn’t there to feel it.
Nobody had sat beside me during the ultrasound when the technician asked if the father would be joining me.
Nobody had watched me smile and say, "No, he couldn't make it.""
Because admitting Luca didn't know felt easier than admitting he didn't care.
I unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside.
The small space was nothing like the Moretti penthouse.
No marble floors.
No floor-to-ceiling windows.
No expensive artwork.
But it was mine.
A place where nobody could tell me I was overreacting.
A place where nobody could make me question my own memories.
I placed my bag on the table.
Then I looked at my phone.
The message was still there.
Waiting.
I should have ignored it.
I should have deleted it.
But curiosity was a dangerous thing.
Especially when it came from someone who had known Luca his entire life.
I pressed call.
He answered before the second ring.
"Isabella.""
I froze.
I hadn't expected him to pick up so quickly.
"Lorenzo.""
Luca's father.
The man who built the Moretti empire before handing control to his son.
The man who had treated me like a daughter.
The man who had called me family.
"I saw your message," I said.
There was silence.
Then a deep sigh.
"You saw Luca today.""
It wasn't a question.
"How did you know?""
"Because he called me ten minutes after leaving that boutique.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did he say?""
Another pause.
A painful one.
"That you were pregnant.""
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The first person Luca called was his father.
Not me.
"I need to ask you something," Lorenzo said.
"Okay.""
"Did Luca ever tell you why he asked for the divorce?""
My hand slowly moved away from my stomach.
The room became quiet.
Too quiet.
"What kind of question is that?""
"Answer me.""
I swallowed.
"He said he wasn't happy.""
Lorenzo was silent.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"That's not why.""
I stood up.
"What?""
"Isabella, Luca didn't leave you because he stopped loving you.""
My heart started beating faster.
"Then why?""
I heard him breathe heavily.
Like he had carried the weight of those words for months.
"Because he thought he was protecting you.""
I laughed once.
A bitter sound.
"Protecting me?""
"Listen to me.""
"No.""
My voice rose.
"Do you know how many nights I spent wondering what I did wrong? How many times I replayed every conversation trying to figure out when my husband stopped choosing me?""
"Isabella—"
"He let me believe he wanted another woman.""
The silence on the other end became unbearable.
Then Lorenzo said:
"Because he wanted you to hate him.""
I stopped moving.
"What?""
"He believed making you hate him was the only way to keep you safe.""
A cold feeling spread through me.
"No.""
"Yes.""
"No.""
I shook my head even though he couldn't see me.
"Luca doesn't get to rewrite what happened.""
"I'm not rewriting anything.""
"Then explain.""
Another silence.
This one felt different.
Like the moment before a storm breaks.
Finally, Lorenzo spoke.
"The night you left, Luca discovered something about Vanessa.""
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"What?""
"He found out she had been lying to both of you.""
My heartbeat became louder.
"Lying about what?""
Before Lorenzo could answer, there was a loud knock on my apartment door.
I froze.
Nobody came over without calling.
Nobody.
"Isabella?""
I didn't answer.
The knock came again.
Harder.
Lorenzo heard it.
"Who is that?""
I slowly walked toward the door.
My hand hovered over the lock.
"I don't know.""
Then I looked through the peephole.
And my entire body went cold.
Because standing outside my apartment, soaked from the rain, was Luca Moretti.
Alone.
No Vanessa.
No bodyguards.
No arrogance.
Just a man who looked like he had finally run out of places to hide.
My phone was still pressed against my ear.
Lorenzo whispered:
"Isabella, don't open that door.""
I stared at Luca through the small glass circle.
Then I heard Lorenzo say the words that changed everything.
"Because if he tells you the truth tonight, you’ll finally understand why he let you believe he betrayed you.""
Luca knocked again.
And this time, he spoke.
"Isabella...""
My breath caught.
Because the way he said my name was the same way he used to say it when we were alone.
Like I was still the only person in the world who mattered.
"I know you’re in there.""
I stepped back.
May you like
Then he said the one sentence I never expected to hear.
"The baby isn't the only thing I lost when you left.""
