Chapter 3: The Night Everything Fell Apart
For ten seconds, I stood behind the door and forgot how to breathe.
Luca was on the other side.
The same man whose name was carved into the entrance of skyscrapers.
The same man who could make an entire room go silent with a single look.
The same man who once held me in the rain outside our wedding venue because my heels hurt and I refused to admit it.
Now he was standing outside my apartment like he was the one who had nowhere else to go.
I looked down at my phone.
Lorenzo was still there.
"Isabella," he whispered.
"Do not make a decision because you still love him.""
The words hit harder because they were true.
I hated that he knew.
I hated that after seven months, after everything, one sentence could still expose the part of me I tried so hard to bury.
"I don't love him," I whispered.
The lie tasted bitter.
On the other side of the door, Luca spoke again.
"Please open the door.""
I closed my eyes.
The old me would have opened it immediately.
The old me would have forgiven him before he even apologized.
The old me would have seen the pain on his face and forgotten my own.
But the old me was gone.
Or at least, I had spent seven months trying to kill her.
"I need to go," I told Lorenzo.
"Isabella—"
I ended the call.
Not because I wanted to hear Luca.
Because I needed to hear him.
There was a difference.
I unlocked the door.
But I didn't open it all the way.
The chain stayed in place.
Luca looked at me through the small gap.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Rainwater dripped from his dark hair onto the collar of his coat.
He looked nothing like the man I saw in magazines.
No expensive suit.
No confident smile.
No carefully controlled expression.
Just exhaustion.
"You came here alone," I said.
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Why?""
His eyes moved over my face.
Then lower.
To my belly.
A thousand emotions crossed his expression so quickly I almost missed them.
Regret.
Fear.
Love.
Pain.
"I needed to see you.""
"You saw me.""
"That wasn't enough.""
I almost laughed.
"Seven months was enough.""
His face tightened.
"I know.""
"No, Luca. You don't.""
The anger I had buried for months finally pushed its way out.
"You don't know what it was like waking up every morning knowing my marriage was over and not understanding why. You don't know what it was like going to appointments alone. You don't know what it felt like hearing strangers congratulate me while I smiled and pretended I wasn't terrified.""
His eyes dropped.
"I should have been there.""
"Yes.""
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
He looked like it hurt.
Good.
Some pain needed to be felt.
"I know," he said quietly.
"No, you don't.""
My hand tightened around the door.
"You had a choice every single day. You could have called. You could have shown up. You could have told me the truth.""
"I couldn't.""
The words stopped me.
Not because I believed him.
Because of the way he said them.
Not defensive.
Desperate.
"What does that mean?""
He looked away.
For the first time in my life, Luca Moretti looked ashamed.
"I made a promise.""
"To who?""
He didn't answer.
And that was enough.
My anger returned.
"Of course.""
His eyes came back to mine.
"What?""
"Even now.""
I shook my head.
"You still can't tell me everything.""
"Because I was trying to protect you.""
"There it is again.""
I laughed softly.
"The same excuse everyone uses when they hurt someone.""
His jaw tightened.
"I never wanted to hurt you.""
"But you did.""
The silence that followed was painful.
Because neither of us could argue with that.
Luca stepped closer.
The chain on the door held him back.
A tiny piece of metal separating two people who had once shared everything.
"I saw the divorce papers," he said.
I frowned.
"What?""
"The night you left.""
My fingers loosened slightly.
"I didn't send them.""
"I know.""
The rain outside grew louder.
"I did.""
I froze.
"What?""
He swallowed.
"I signed them first.""
The words felt impossible.
"You...""
"I knew if you stayed, you would get dragged into something dangerous.""
I stared at him.
"What are you talking about?""
He looked over his shoulder toward the empty hallway.
Then back at me.
"Can I come inside?""
"No.""
The answer surprised him.
"I need to explain.""
"You can explain from there.""
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Acceptance.
Like he knew he deserved this.
"Okay.""
He took a breath.
"Three days before you left, I found out Vanessa wasn't trying to help my company.""
My heart stopped.
"Vanessa?""
He nodded.
"She had been leaking information.""
I stared at him.
"To who?""
"I didn't know at first.""
"And then?""
His eyes darkened.
"Then I found out she was connected to people who wanted to destroy Moretti Holdings.""
The apartment suddenly felt colder.
I remembered Vanessa.
Her perfect clothes.
Her perfect smile.
The way she always seemed to appear whenever Luca and I had an argument.
I had thought she was trying to steal my husband.
But what if there was something else?
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know who I could trust.""
The answer was immediate.
Painfully honest.
"You.""
I blinked.
"What?""
"I trusted you.""
His voice cracked slightly.
"You were the only person I trusted.""
I looked away.
Because that was the cruelest part.
A part of me still wanted to believe him.
"I saw you with her.""
His face fell.
"I know.""
"At the hotel.""
"I know.""
"You were holding her.""
His eyes closed briefly.
"Yes.""
The memory came back.
The photograph.
The headline.
The humiliation.
*Luca Moretti’s Secret Woman?*
I had seen it online before he even came home.
Hundreds of comments.
Thousands of strangers discussing my marriage like it was entertainment.
I had waited for him to deny it.
To tell me the truth.
Instead, he came home and said:
"Maybe we need time apart.""
I thought those words meant he chose her.
Now I wasn't sure.
"What happened that night?"" I asked.
Luca looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw something I had never seen before.
Fear.
"I met Vanessa because she threatened you.""
My breath caught.
"What?""
"She knew about us.""
"About us?""
"About our marriage. About your routine. About where you went when you were alone.""
My hand moved protectively over my stomach.
Luca noticed.
His expression broke.
"I should have told you sooner.""
"Yes.""
"I know.""
"Stop saying that.""
He went silent.
I looked at him.
"Tell me everything.""
His eyes stayed on mine.
"That night at the hotel, Vanessa told me she had proof someone inside my company was planning to frame me for fraud.""
I frowned.
"And?""
"And she said if I didn't cooperate, you would become collateral damage.""
The room went silent.
"You believed her?""
"I believed she was capable of trying.""
"Because?""
"Because I found the first warning letter in your car.""
My blood ran cold.
"What warning letter?""
Luca looked at me carefully.
"The one that said if you didn't leave New York, something would happen to you.""
I felt dizzy.
"I never saw that.""
His face changed.
"Exactly.""
The words hung between us.
Someone had hidden a threat from me.
Someone had been controlling the information.
Someone wanted Luca and me separated.
And they had succeeded.
"Where is the letter now?"" I asked.
"Safe.""
"Show me.""
He hesitated.
That hesitation bothered me.
"What?""
"There is something else.""
My stomach tightened.
"What else?""
Luca looked down.
Then he said:
"The person who sent that letter knew something about our baby.""
I stopped breathing.
"What do you mean?""
He looked at my belly.
Then back at me.
"The threat arrived before you knew you were pregnant.""
A cold wave moved through my body.
Because suddenly everything changed.
The divorce.
The betrayal.
Vanessa.
The lies.
None of it had started because Luca stopped loving me.
Someone had been pulling strings.
And I had spent seven months blaming the wrong person.
Luca reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out a small envelope.
Old.
Folded.
Damaged from the rain.
"I kept this because I knew one day I would have to show you.""
I stared at it.
"What's inside?""
His expression became unreadable.
"The reason I let you hate me.""
Slowly, he held the envelope toward me.
Then my eyes caught the handwriting on the front.
And my entire body went cold.
Because I recognized it.
It was my handwriting.
May you like
And underneath my name were four words I had never written.
*I know about the baby.*
