Chapter 4: The Letter That Was Never Sent
I stared at the envelope in Luca’s hand.
My handwriting.
My name.
Words I had never written.
For a moment, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
It was like looking at a photograph of a memory I had never lived.
"No," I whispered.
Luca didn't move.
"Isabella...""
"No.""
My voice became sharper.
"That isn't possible.""
The hallway light flickered above us.
Rain tapped against the windows at the end of the corridor.
Everything around me felt real.
Except that envelope.
Because I knew my handwriting.
I knew the way my letters curved slightly to the left.
I knew how I crossed my t's too low and dotted my i's with tiny circles.
That was mine.
But those words weren't.
"I didn't write that," I said.
Luca nodded slowly.
"I know.""
The answer confused me.
"You know?""
"Yes.""
"Then why do you have it?""
His expression darkened.
"Because someone wanted me to believe you wrote it.""
I looked at the envelope again.
The words stared back at me.
*I know about the baby.*
My fingers moved toward it.
But I stopped.
Something inside me warned me not to touch it.
Not yet.
"Where did you get this?""
Luca looked away.
"The night you left.""
My chest tightened.
"Explain.""
He took a slow breath.
"I came home and found the divorce papers on the table.""
My memories came rushing back.
The marble dining room.
The cold silence.
The suitcase near the stairs.
The feeling that something inside me had finally broken.
"I thought you were done with me," he continued.
I almost laughed.
"I thought the same thing about you.""
His eyes met mine.
"I know.""
There it was again.
That quiet acceptance.
Not an excuse.
Not a defense.
Just regret.
"I saw the envelope beside the papers.""
I frowned.
"You never mentioned it.""
"Because I didn't know what it meant.""
"Then why didn't you ask me?""
His jaw tightened.
"Because when I opened it, there was something else inside.""
"What?""
He looked at the envelope.
"A copy of your medical record.""
The world seemed to stop.
My hand immediately moved to my stomach.
"What?""
"Your pregnancy test.""
I stepped back.
"No.""
"Isabella—"
"No.""
My voice shook.
"Nobody knew.""
Luca's face changed.
Exactly.
Nobody knew.
Not then.
Not when I left.
Not when I spent nights alone wondering whether I could raise a child without the man I loved.
Nobody knew.
Except...
A horrible thought entered my mind.
I looked at him.
"Who else had access to our house?""
Luca went quiet.
That silence was an answer.
"Tell me.""
His eyes lowered.
"Vanessa.""
I felt something inside me collapse.
"No.""
"She had access to my office.""
"Not our home.""
"She did.""
The certainty in his voice frightened me.
"How?""
Luca looked exhausted.
"Because my security team found her fingerprints on the guest room window.""
The room felt colder.
"Guest room?""
He nodded.
"The room where you kept your personal documents.""
My breathing became shallow.
I remembered that room.
The small desk near the window.
The drawer where I kept everything important.
Passports.
Insurance papers.
Medical records.
Things I thought were safe.
Because home was supposed to be safe.
"You knew?""
"I suspected.""
"And you still let me leave?""
The pain in my voice made him close his eyes.
"I thought if I pushed you away, they would stop watching you.""
I stared at him.
"Who is they?""
He didn't answer immediately.
And that scared me more.
"Luca.""
He looked at me.
"My uncle.""
I froze.
"What?""
"Enzo Moretti.""
The name was familiar.
Everyone in New York knew the Moretti family.
The success.
The wealth.
The history.
But family businesses always had shadows.
And Luca's uncle had always been one of them.
"He wants your company?"" I asked.
"He wants control.""
"And Vanessa?""
"She's been helping him.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"Isabella.""
"No.""
I didn't know why I was denying it.
Maybe because accepting it meant every instinct I had ignored was right.
The late-night meetings.
The phone calls Luca wouldn't explain.
The arguments where he suddenly became distant.
The moments when I thought he was falling out of love with me.
Maybe he wasn't leaving me.
Maybe he was trying to save me.
But why did he make me hate him?
Why did he let me believe the worst?
"Why Vanessa?"" I asked.
Luca looked at the floor.
"Because she knew I would never suspect her.""
I almost smiled.
"Neither did I.""
The words hurt both of us.
A silence passed.
Then Luca reached for the envelope again.
"There's more.""
I looked at him.
"More?""
He nodded.
"The message wasn't the only thing inside.""
"What else?""
He hesitated.
Then pulled out a folded piece of paper.
My heartbeat changed.
"No.""
His expression softened.
"I know.""
"Stop saying that.""
He stopped.
Good.
I didn't need comfort.
I needed answers.
Luca unfolded the paper.
"I found this after you left.""
I didn't take it.
"Read it.""
He looked surprised.
"You want me to read it?""
"I want to know what someone tried to make you believe.""
Slowly, he handed it to me.
The paper was old.
The edges were worn.
I unfolded it.
The first thing I saw was my name.
Then the sentence below.
*Luca, if you are reading this, it means Isabella knows the truth.*
My hands started shaking.
I continued.
*She knows about the baby. She knows you chose Vanessa. She knows everything.*
I looked up.
"Luca...""
"I didn't write that.""
I looked back down.
The next line was worse.
*You can't protect her anymore. Leave before she becomes the next victim.*
My heart pounded.
Victim.
The word echoed in my mind.
"What did you think when you saw this?""
Luca didn't answer.
I looked at him.
"What did you think?""
His voice was barely audible.
"I thought someone had convinced you I betrayed you.""
The paper shook between my fingers.
"And you believed it?""
"I believed someone was trying to separate us.""
"But you didn't tell me.""
His eyes filled with something I had never seen from him before.
Shame.
"I wanted to.""
"Then why didn't you?""
"Because the night I was going to tell you...""
He stopped.
I waited.
"What?""
His hands curled into fists.
"The night you left, someone broke into our house.""
My breath caught.
"What?""
"They weren't looking for money.""
"What were they looking for?""
His eyes moved to my stomach.
And suddenly I understood.
"Me.""
His silence confirmed it.
"They were looking for you.""
I felt sick.
All those months.
I thought Luca abandoned me.
But maybe someone had been trying to take me away from him.
"Why didn't you tell the police?""
"I did.""
"And?""
"They couldn't prove anything.""
"Why?""
"Because the person who broke in left no evidence.""
I looked down at the paper.
No evidence.
Except this.
A fake letter.
A stolen medical record.
A marriage destroyed by lies.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
Both of us looked at it.
A message.
Unknown number.
My blood turned cold.
I didn't want to open it.
But I did.
There was only one sentence.
*Stop digging into the past, Isabella. You already lost Luca once. Don't make the same mistake twice.*
Below the message was a photograph.
My fingers went numb.
Because the picture was recent.
Not from seven months ago.
Not from the night I left.
It had been taken today.
Inside the nursery boutique.
A photograph of Luca and me.
Standing together.
And behind us, reflected in the glass window, was someone watching.
Someone who had been there the entire time.
Luca saw my face change.
"What is it?""
I handed him the phone.
The moment he saw the picture, all the color disappeared from his face.
"That's impossible.""
"Who is it?""
He didn't answer.
"Luca.""
His eyes remained fixed on the reflection.
Then he whispered a name.
A name that made my blood run cold.
May you like
Because it belonged to someone who had been dead for three years.
"Marco Moretti.""
