Chapter 5: The Woman Who Built the Lie
Vittoria Moretti lived in a house on the North Shore that had been in the family for forty years.
Stone exterior.
Iron gates.
The kind of house that announced its own importance before you reached the door.
Luca had called me from the car on the way there.
I had not asked him to.
He called anyway.
"She's home," he said.
"Her housekeeper confirmed."
"Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"
"If I wait, she'll know I have the document.
She'll prepare."
"She may already know."
"Then there's no reason to wait."
I heard the car slow.
A gate opening.
"Luca."
"I'm here."
"Whatever she says in there — remember that she chose this.
She chose every part of it."
A pause.
"I know."
"Don't let her make you doubt what you're holding in your hand."
"I won't." Another pause, shorter.
"Thank you."
He hung up.
I sat in my apartment and waited.
He called back forty minutes later.
"Tell me," I said.
"She didn't deny it."
I had not expected that.
"What?"
"She didn't deny it." His voice was controlled in the way that meant the opposite of calm.
"She explained it."
"What does that mean?"
"She said she did what was necessary." His breath was steady and deliberate.
"She said you were wrong for me.
That you came from the wrong background.
That you would have held me back.
That a Moretti heir needed a mother from a family with standing."
The words landed like something I had always half-known but never heard spoken plainly.
"She said that."
"Word for word."
"And the report?
The fifty thousand?"
"She said the clinic contact was a necessary arrangement.
She said she had simply accelerated something that would have happened anyway." His voice dropped.
"She said if I had truly loved you, I wouldn't have believed the report so easily."
My chest went tight.
"She blamed you," I said.
"She blamed both of us.
Me for being weak enough to believe it.
You for not fighting harder to stay."
"She destroyed our marriage and then blamed us for letting her."
"Yes."
I stood up from the kitchen table and walked to the window.
The city was dark and lit at the same time, the way Chicago always was at night.
"What did you say to her?"
"I told her I had the wire transfer record."
"And?"
"She said it proved nothing without the clinic contact to corroborate it.
She said the contact had retired and moved abroad two years ago." A pause.
"She smiled when she said it."
"She thinks she's untouchable."
"She has thought that for a long time."
"Is she right?"
Silence.
"Not anymore," he said.
"Because Petra kept copies of everything.
Including the name and current address of the clinic contact."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"She has more."
"Much more.
She has emails.
She has a second payment — fifteen thousand — made eight months after the divorce.
She has a letter my mother wrote to the clinic director." His voice was very quiet.
"Petra has been building a file for three years.
She was waiting for a moment when she believed it would actually matter."
I thought of Petra in that coffee shop.
Her hands around her cup.
Her daughter who was four.
"What did your mother do when you told her that?"
"She stood up." He stopped.
"She told me that if I pursued this, she would make it public that you hid the twins from me for six years.
She said she would make sure every outlet in Chicago ran the story.
She said she would make you look like a woman who used children as leverage."
My stomach dropped.
"She threatened the twins."
"She threatened your reputation.
Which she knew would hurt them eventually." His voice hardened.
"That was her final move.
She looked me in the eye and told me to think carefully about whether I wanted to burn the family down over a woman who had kept my children from me."
I said nothing.
"Nia."
"I'm here."
"I told her she had one week to speak to a lawyer and prepare herself."
"And then?"
"And then I'm taking everything Petra has to the state attorney's office."
The line was quiet for a moment.
"She'll fight it," I said.
"I know."
"She has money.
She has lawyers.
She has forty years of relationships in this city."
"I know all of that."
"Luca—"
"Nia." His voice was steady.
"She forged your medical records.
She paid someone to lie to me about your body.
She watched your children grow up from a distance and said nothing.
She knew Eli and Mara existed and she let me believe I had no children." A pause.
"I am not stopping."
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window.
Outside, the city moved the way it always did.
Indifferent.
Continuous.
"She'll go after me," I said.
"The story about the twins.
She'll use it."
"Let her try." His voice did not waver.
"Because the moment she does, I will be standing next to you."
I closed my eyes.
That was the thing I had not let myself want.
Not once in six years.
Someone standing next to me.
"Call me tomorrow," I said.
"I will."
I hung up.
And for the first time since Luca had walked into Aurelia, I was not afraid of what came next.
May you like
I was angry.
That was better.
