Chapter 2 – SIXTY DAYS WITHOUT HIS FATHER

“Sixty days?”

Teresa’s voice broke.

“Vanessa, you told me Oliver would still see Luca every weekend.”

Vanessa stood beside the table, her red satin gown catching the chandelier light.

“That clause was only a recommendation.”

Luca held up the paper.

“It says direct contact should be suspended during an adjustment period.”

“That’s standard in some family transitions.”

“Not in my family.”

Oliver pressed his face against Luca’s shoulder.

I watched his fingers curl around the blue plate.

He was trying so hard to be brave.

But every time someone mentioned another arrangement, his little body stiffened.

Luca noticed.

“Buddy, I’m going to put this paper away.”

Oliver looked up.

“Does that mean I can stay?”

“Yes.”

“Even after the wedding?”

Luca hesitated.

Then answered carefully.

“You’re staying with me. And nobody is making wedding plans tonight.”

Oliver nodded.

But he didn’t smile.

I understood why.

A child who’d been told the same lie for three weeks couldn’t be expected to believe the truth after hearing it once.

Luca turned toward me.

“Claire, would you bring Oliver some warm milk?”

“Of course, sir.”

Oliver immediately grabbed my sleeve.

“Don’t take my plate.”

I crouched beside him.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He studied my face.

Then loosened his grip.

I went to the service station at the far end of the dining room, where the staff kept a small beverage warmer for private dinners.

When I returned, Oliver was sitting beside his father.

Teresa held his hand.

Vanessa remained standing.

Nobody had touched the engagement cake.

I placed the milk in front of Oliver.

He whispered, “Thanks, Claire.”

I smiled.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Luca unfolded the custody papers again.

“Mom, where did you sign these?”

“Here, at the dining table. Last Thursday afternoon.”

“Was anyone with you?”

“Vanessa.”

“And what did she tell you?”

Teresa looked exhausted.

“She said you were worried Oliver wasn’t adjusting well. That you wanted him with me while you worked through some things.”

Luca lowered his head.

“Mom, why didn’t you ask me?”

She looked hurt.

“Because she told me you’d asked her to handle it.”

Vanessa interrupted.

“Which is exactly what you’ve been doing for months, Luca. Asking me to handle things.”

He looked up.

“Not decisions about my son’s future.”

She laughed bitterly.

“You say that now.”

The words surprised him.

Vanessa continued.

“Who arranged Oliver’s school transportation when you had meetings? Who made sure he had clothes for the engagement photographs? Who dealt with the calls from his teachers when he started refusing assignments?”

Luca’s expression changed.

“His teachers called?”

Vanessa stopped.

I felt a chill.

Oliver looked down at his milk.

Luca turned toward him.

“Buddy, have you been having trouble at school?”

Oliver shrugged.

“A little.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I didn’t finish some stuff.”

“Why?”

The boy stared at the blue plate.

“I was tired.”

“Why were you tired?”

Oliver’s voice grew smaller.

“I kept staying awake.”

Luca gently touched his shoulder.

“Thinking about what?”

Oliver looked toward Vanessa.

Then whispered, “Moving.”

My eyes filled.

He was ten years old.

He should’ve been worrying about spelling tests and soccer practice.

Instead, he’d been lying awake wondering where he’d be allowed to sleep after his father’s wedding.

Luca turned toward Vanessa.

“How long have you known?”

She looked away.

“His teacher said he seemed distracted.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was handling it.”

“By telling him he was leaving home?”

Vanessa’s eyes filled.

“I thought stability would help him.”

Teresa shook her head.

“Children need truth, dear. Not plans they don’t understand.”

Vanessa turned sharply.

“And you agreed he should stay with you.”

“I agreed to help my grandson.”

“You signed the paper.”

“Not the paper you’re using now.”

For a moment, Vanessa looked as though she might say something cruel.

Then she stopped.

I watched her swallow.

Luca leaned back.

“Vanessa, where is the original page my mother signed?”

She hesitated.

“In the household planning folder.”

“Bring it here.”

“I don’t know exactly where it is.”

“Then we’ll find it tomorrow.”

Her expression softened with relief.

But Luca wasn’t finished.

“Until then, these papers have no authority in this house. Nobody is changing Oliver’s residence, school, or contact with his family.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“You can’t simply ignore a signed agreement.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t become a custody order because someone typed the word guardian on it.”

He looked at her.

“And a signature I didn’t write isn’t my consent.”

I watched Teresa gently stroke Oliver’s hair.

“Sweetheart, would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Oliver looked at Luca.

“Can Dad come too?”

Luca smiled sadly.

“How about I stay right here with you?”

Oliver nodded.

Then asked, “Can I sleep in my old room?”

“Of course.”

“With my soccer blanket?”

“Absolutely.”

The boy took a small breath.

“But Vanessa said my room was going to be changed.”

Luca looked toward me.

“Claire, what has been packed?”

“Mostly clothes and books. The furniture is still there.”

“And the toys?”

“Some are in boxes.”

Oliver’s eyes filled again.

“Did they pack Mom’s things?”

I hesitated.

Luca noticed.

“Claire?”

I swallowed.

“Mrs. Bellini asked us to separate anything that belonged to Oliver’s mother.”

Vanessa immediately interrupted.

“Because those things upset him.”

Oliver shook his head.

“No, they don’t.”

She looked at him.

“Oliver, sweetheart, you cried when you saw your mother’s sweater.”

“Because I miss her.”

Vanessa pressed her lips together.

The boy looked at his father.

“Am I not supposed to cry anymore?”

Luca’s eyes filled.

“Oh, buddy.”

He pulled Oliver close.

“You can cry whenever you need to.”

Oliver buried his face against his father’s chest.

I turned away for a moment.

I’d seen Luca command rooms filled with powerful men.

I’d watched him make decisions that affected businesses across Chicago.

But now he was sitting at his own dining table, trying to repair something he hadn’t realized was breaking.

And I could see how frightened he was.

Teresa removed her pearl bracelet and placed it beside Oliver’s plate.

“Your grandfather gave me this when Luca was born,” she said softly.

Oliver touched one pearl.

“Really?”

“Yes. I was frightened of becoming a mother, and your grandfather told me we’d figure it out together.”

She smiled through her tears.

“Parents don’t always know what they’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oliver looked at Luca.

“Even Dad?”

Luca gave a small, sad laugh.

“Especially Dad.”

For the first time, Oliver smiled.

Then I remembered something.

Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had asked me to remove Oliver’s school backpack from the downstairs coat closet.

She’d said he was transferring to a school closer to his grandmother.

At the time, I thought Luca knew.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Mr. Moretti?”

Luca looked up.

“Yes, Claire?”

“May I ask whether Oliver is changing schools?”

He frowned.

Vanessa went very still.

I felt my stomach drop.

“Because Mrs. Bellini asked me to pack his school supplies for a transfer.”

Luca slowly turned toward her.

“What transfer?”

Vanessa looked at Oliver.

Then away.

“It’s only a preliminary arrangement.”

Luca stood.

“To which school?”

She didn’t answer.

Oliver reached into his jacket pocket.

He pulled out a folded yellow card.

“I got this yesterday,” he whispered.

Luca took it.

Across the top were the words:

Beneath them was an enrollment date.

The Monday after the wedding.

Luca’s face drained of color.

And when he turned the card over, he found the part Vanessa hadn’t mentioned.

Oliver wasn’t being enrolled as a day student.

He was scheduled to board there five nights a week.