Chapter 10 – THE TRUTH ABOUT THE UNSIGNED DIVORCE DECREE

“Leaving?”

The word tore out of Luca’s throat like a physical wound. He pushed off the balustrade, taking two long strides toward her. “Caroline, what are you talking about? The debt is gone. Bellini is gone. You’re safe here.”

Caroline turned back to face him, tears streaming freely down her bruised face.

“Safe?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I spent the last two years living in a tiny apartment, terrified every single time Ben came to visit you because I knew who Vanessa was. I let you break my heart because I thought it was the only way to keep our son alive.”

“And it was!” Luca pleaded. “I did it to protect you both!”

“But you didn’t trust me!” she cried out. “You didn’t tell me the truth, Luca! You let me believe you fell out of love with me. You let me believe you actually wanted Vanessa. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Luca stood frozen, the devastation clear on his face.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth,” he whispered. “If Bellini knew we were faking the split, he would have killed you.”

“I’m your wife!” she shouted. “We were supposed to fight them together!”

“You’re not my wife anymore,” Luca said, his voice completely broken.

The silence on the terrace was deafening.

Benjamin stood up from the bench, his little lip trembling. He dropped his telescope.

“Mommy?” Ben whispered. “Are we going away?”

Caroline looked at her son. Her anger instantly melted into heartbreak. She rushed over, kneeling painfully on the flagstones to pull him into her good arm.

“Oh, baby, no. We’re not going far. Just back to our apartment.”

“I want to stay with Daddy,” Ben cried, burying his face in her neck. “I don’t want to go.”

“Ben, please,” Caroline choked out.

“I’ll pack your bags,” Luca said.

His voice was dead. Empty.

He turned around and walked into the house, leaving Caroline weeping on the terrace with their son.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I dropped my broom.

I ran into the house, chasing after the most dangerous man in Chicago.

“Mr. Moretti! Stop!”

Luca paused at the base of the grand staircase. He didn’t turn around.

“Go back to your duties, Rachel.”

“No,” I said firmly, ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder. I walked up to him. “You are the stupidest smart man I have ever met.”

Luca slowly turned around. His eyes were dark, a warning flashing in them.

“Excuse me?”

“She didn’t leave you because she doesn’t love you,” I snapped, pointing toward the terrace. “She’s leaving because you just proved you still don’t trust her! You just proved that the moment things get hard, you’ll push her away to ‘protect’ her instead of standing by her side.”

Luca glared at me. “You don’t understand our world, Rachel.”

“I understand that a woman dragged herself through a hidden wall with a broken arm to save your son!” I yelled. “I understand she took a beating for a wooden chess piece because it was from you! And you just let her walk away because you’re too cowardly to fight for her.”

Luca stared at me.

For a long moment, I thought he was going to fire me. Or worse.

Instead, he let out a harsh breath, running a hand over his face.

“I don’t know how to fix it, Rachel,” he admitted quietly. “I signed the divorce papers. I let her go.”

I frowned.

“Wait,” I said. “You signed them?”

“Yes. Two years ago.”

“Mr. Moretti… I clean your private study every Tuesday.”

Luca looked at me, confused. “So?”

“So, there is a locked file cabinet behind your desk. Last month, Miss Vanessa demanded I clean it out to make room for her wedding planners. I had the master key.”

Luca’s eyes widened slightly.

“I found a thick manila envelope,” I continued, my heart racing. “It had Mrs. Moretti’s name on it. Inside were legal documents. Miss Vanessa told me to shred them.”

“Did you?” Luca demanded, grabbing my good arm.

“No,” I said, smiling softly. “I know what divorce decrees look like, sir. My mother has one. The papers were signed by Caroline. But they were never signed by a judge. And they were never filed with the city.”

Luca went completely still.

“I hid them in the back of the cabinet,” I whispered.

“Rachel,” Luca breathed, a slow, disbelieving light igniting in his dark eyes. “Are you telling me…”

“You’re not divorced, Mr. Moretti,” I said. “You never filed the paperwork. She is still your wife.”

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