Chapter 6: The Man Who Doesn't Go Quietly
The DNA results came back on a Tuesday.
I already knew what they would say.
I had always known.
But there is a difference between knowing something and having it printed on a document with a laboratory seal, and when I read the confirmation — 99.998% — I sat at my kitchen table and let myself feel the full weight of what that number meant.
It meant the lie was now officially over.
Luca called within the hour.
"I have mine too," he said.
"I know."
"Nia." A pause.
"Thank you for agreeing to this.
I know you didn't have to."
"I did it for Marcus and Lily," I said.
"Not for you."
"I understand."
"Do you want to tell me what's happening with Richard?"
A longer pause this time.
"He knows something is wrong," Luca said.
"I haven't confronted him yet.
I've been working with my legal team and my outside counsel.
We're building a complete picture first."
"How much did you find?"
"More than I expected." His voice was careful.
Controlled.
But underneath it was something I recognized — the particular quiet of a man who is angrier than he is letting on.
"The fertility situation was not the only thing he manipulated.
There were financial decisions I made based on information he filtered.
Contracts.
One acquisition in particular that I'm now looking at very differently."
"He's been doing this for years."
"It appears so."
I thought of Richard Holt at those early dinners.
The way he redirected conversations.
The way he always seemed to be slightly ahead of everyone else in the room.
"He's going to find out you're looking," I said.
"Men like that always do."
"I know."
"And when he does, he'll move first."
"I'm counting on it," Luca said.
"I need him to move first."
I didn't ask why.
I understood.
A man who strikes first reveals everything he's been hiding.
What I didn't expect was how fast it would happen.
Two days later, my sister Dara called me at six in the morning.
"Nia.
There's something on the financial news.
About you."
I found it in four minutes.
A blind item in a Chicago business column — the kind that uses careful language and unnamed sources but leaves no real doubt about who it concerns.
It described a woman who had concealed the existence of a billionaire's children for seven years in order to, and I am quoting directly, "preserve future leverage over Moretti Global assets."
My hands were steady when I put the phone down.
I was surprised by that.
Then I called my attorney.
"I've seen it," Grace said before I could speak.
"I've already started drafting.
This is defamation, Nia.
Clear and traceable."
"Can we trace it to Richard?"
"We're working on it.
The columnist has a history of receiving tips from Moretti Global insiders.
We have a subpoena ready."
"How long?"
"Days, not weeks.
Whoever placed this story was in a hurry.
Hurried people make mistakes."
I looked out the window.
Marcus was in the backyard kicking a soccer ball against the fence.
Lily was on the porch steps reading, her knees pulled up, completely absorbed.
They didn't know any of this was happening.
I intended to keep it that way for as long as I possibly could.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Luca.
*I saw it.
I'm sorry.
This is Richard.
I'm certain of it.
My team is moving today.*
I typed back: *So is mine.*
Three dots appeared.
Then: *He called me this morning.
He wants a meeting.
He said he has information about you that I need to hear before I make any decisions I'll regret.*
I stared at that message for a long time.
*What did you tell him?* I wrote.
*I told him Thursday at nine.
My office.*
May you like
*And?*
*And I'd like you to be there.*
