Chapter 8: What Marcus Asked
Richard Holt signed the termination agreement at nine forty-seven on a Thursday morning.
He left without another word.
The elevator doors closed behind him and I watched through the glass wall as the floor indicator counted down — 41, 40, 39 — until it disappeared.
Luca's attorney gathered the documents.
She shook my hand before she left.
Then it was just the two of us, and the skyline, and the particular silence that follows something that has been a long time coming.
"It's done," Luca said.
"The termination is done," I said.
"The legal referral is still open."
"Yes." He moved to the window.
"Grace thinks the financial case will take six to eight months.
The DA's office is interested."
"Good."
He turned to face me.
"How are you?"
The question was so ordinary that it caught me off guard.
"I'm fine," I said.
Then, more honestly: "I'll be fine."
He nodded.
He looked like he wanted to say something more and wasn't sure he had the right to.
"Luca."
"Yes."
"You need to understand something before we talk about the children." I kept my voice even.
"What happened to our marriage — Richard Holt lit the match.
But you chose to believe him.
You chose to disappear instead of asking me directly.
You chose to let me carry that for six years."
He didn't look away.
"I know," he said.
"I'm not saying that to punish you.
I'm saying it because Marcus and Lily are going to have questions someday.
And when they do, I need to know that you understand the full truth of what happened.
Not a version that's easier to live with."
"I understand it," he said.
"All of it."
I believed him.
I wasn't sure that changed everything.
But it changed something.
"Then here's what I'm willing to do," I said.
"We start slow.
A meeting somewhere neutral.
Somewhere the children feel safe.
No pressure, no expectations.
You let them set the pace."
"Whatever they need."
"And Luca — if you ever, for any reason, put your convenience ahead of their comfort in this process, it stops.
Immediately."
"Understood."
I picked up my bag.
"I'll talk to them this weekend," I said.
"I'll call you after."
I was almost at the door when he said my name.
I turned.
"I'm sorry, Nia." His voice was quiet and unguarded in a way I hadn't heard since before the empire, before the skyscrapers, before all of it.
"Not for the lawyers or the documents.
For the night in the kitchen.
For the tea.
For making you set the cup down carefully."
My throat tightened.
I nodded once.
And left.
---
I talked to Marcus and Lily on Saturday morning, at the kitchen table, with the cartoons off and two mugs of hot chocolate between us.
I kept it simple.
I told them that the man from the restaurant was someone I had known a long time ago, before they were born.
That he was part of where they came from.
That he wanted to know them, if they wanted that too.
Lily listened with her chin in her hands.
Marcus was quiet for a long time.
Then he said: "Is he the reason you were sad sometimes?
When we were little?"
The question landed somewhere deep.
"He was part of it," I said carefully.
"But I'm not sad anymore."
Marcus thought about this.
"Does he know about my soccer?"
"Not yet," I said.
"You could tell him.
If you wanted to."
He picked up his hot chocolate.
Considered it.
"Okay," he said.
"But I want to meet him somewhere I like first.
Not somewhere fancy."
"Wherever you want," I said.
Lily unfolded her arms and leaned into my side.
"Mom," she said quietly.
"Yes?"
"He has our eyes."
"Yes," I said.
"He does."
She was quiet for a moment.
"That's kind of nice," she said.
May you like
"Actually."
I put my arm around her and held on.
