Chapter 2 - THE LETTER HE NEVER RECEIVED
I couldn't move.
The twins stood beside me, confused, while Evelyn held six years of buried history between two perfectly manicured fingers.
“Mom?” Noah asked.
I blinked.
“Get in the car, sweetheart.”
“But—”
“Please.”
Something in my voice made both children obey.
I unlocked the SUV.
Ava climbed into the back seat but immediately pressed her face against the window.
Noah followed.
I shut the door.
Then I turned toward Evelyn.
“Open it.”
Her eyes widened.
“Nia—”
“You brought it to me. Open it.”
“I don't think that's my place.”
“Neither was keeping it for six years.”
She flinched.
“I didn't.”
“Then who did?”
She looked toward the restaurant.
“Isabella.”
Luca's mother.
Of course.
Isabella Moretti had disliked me from the moment Luca first introduced us.
Not because I was rude.
Not because I embarrassed the family.
Because my father had repaired air-conditioning systems and my mother had taught piano lessons.
The Morettis didn't call people poor.
They used prettier phrases.
“Different background.”
“Limited social exposure.”
“Not accustomed to our circles.”
Isabella could insult your entire bloodline without wrinkling her silk blouse.
I took the envelope.
My hands shook.
“Where exactly did you find it?”
“Three years ago.”
I stared at her.
“Three years?”
Evelyn looked ashamed.
That answer told me more than anything else could have.
“You've known for three years.”
“No.”
“You had my letter.”
“I had a sealed envelope addressed to Luca.”
“And you never gave it to him.”
“I didn't know what was inside.”
“You knew enough to hide it.”
Her face hardened.
“I was afraid.”
I laughed.
“Of what? That your billionaire husband might discover his ex-wife sent him a Christmas card?”
“Of losing him.”
At least she told the truth.
The anger in me became almost calm.
That was more dangerous.
“When did you find it?”
“Shortly before our wedding.”
My mouth fell open.
“You married him anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing I had tried to contact him after our divorce.”
“Yes.”
“Did Isabella tell you what was inside?”
“No. She told me you had become unstable after the divorce. That you'd repeatedly tried to get Luca back. She said the letter was another attempt.”
“And you believed her?”
“I wanted to.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
Not exactly guilt either.
Human weakness.
Sometimes that caused more destruction than cruelty.
“Why bring it now?”
Evelyn looked toward the car.
“Because I saw those children.”
I said nothing.
“My husband has wanted children for years,” she continued. “I thought perhaps that desire would fade. It didn't.”
Something in her voice caught my attention.
“You've been trying too.”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
“And?”
Her mouth tightened.
“It hasn't happened.”
I almost said I was sorry.
Then I remembered she had hidden my letter.
Evelyn nodded toward the envelope.
“Read it.”
“I know what it says.”
“I don't.”
“No. You just kept it from him.”
Her eyes filled again.
“You have every right to hate me.”
“I don't hate you.”
That seemed to hurt her more.
“I don't know you well enough.”
Before she could answer, the restaurant doors opened.
Luca emerged.
He saw the envelope immediately.
His stride changed.
“What is that?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
I felt almost sorry for her.
Almost.
Luca stopped beside us.
His gaze moved from the envelope to his wife.
“Evelyn?”
She said nothing.
He looked at me.
“Nia.”
I handed him the envelope.
He read his own name.
Then looked at the postmarkless paper.
“Where did this come from?”
“Your mother's house.”
He stared at Evelyn.
She whispered, “I found it three years ago.”
The color disappeared from his face.
“And you didn't give it to me?”
“Luca—”
“You found a letter addressed to me and didn't give it to me?”
“Your mother said—”
“I don't care what my mother said.”
His voice wasn't loud.
That made it worse.
Evelyn stepped backward.
“I was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“You still loved her.”
He looked at me.
For one heartbeat, the old world came rushing back.
Then he looked down.
Evelyn laughed weakly.
“See?”
Luca tore open the envelope.
I wanted to stop him.
I didn't.
Inside was the letter.
And an ultrasound photograph.
Two tiny shapes.
Two white circles drawn by the technician.
Baby A.
Baby B.
Luca stopped breathing.
I remembered the day that image had been printed.
I had sat alone in an examination room.
The doctor had smiled.
“Two heartbeats.”
I had cried so hard the nurse hugged me.
Then I'd walked outside and called Luca.
His number had been disconnected.
At least that was what I thought then.
Later, I learned his private number hadn't changed.
Mine had simply been blocked.
Luca read the letter.
His hands began shaking.
I remembered every word.
Luca, I know you asked for distance, but this isn't about us anymore.
I'm pregnant.
Twins.
The doctor believes I conceived shortly before we separated.
I don't know what you want, and I'm not asking you to come back to me.
But you deserve to know.
Whatever happened between us, these babies are yours too.
Please call me.
—Nia.
Luca read it twice.
Then a third time.
“No.”
His voice barely existed.
He looked at me.
“When did you write this?”
“Six weeks after I moved out.”
“You were pregnant when we divorced?”
“I didn't know yet.”
“And you tried to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
I hesitated.
“Nia.”
“Eleven calls.”
His eyes closed.
“Three emails.”
He pressed a hand against the hood of my car.
“Two letters.”
His face twisted.
“And this was one?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the other?”
“I don't know.”
He looked at Evelyn.
She shook her head quickly.
“I only found one.”
Luca turned back to me.
“Why did you stop trying?”
Now came the part I'd carried alone.
“Because your mother came to see me.”
His head snapped up.
“When?”
“Two months later.”
“What did she say?”
I swallowed.
“She told me you knew.”
Luca went still.
“She said you'd read the letter.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
“She told me you didn't want contact. She said you were willing to provide financial support but wanted no parental role.”
“Nia, I never—”
“I know what she said, Luca.”
“What proof did she show you?”
“A document.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What document?”
“Something from your attorney's office.”
His face changed.
“Which attorney?”
“Gabriel Price.”
Luca looked stunned.
Gabriel had been Luca's personal attorney since before we married.
He had stood beside Luca at our wedding.
“I need to see it.”
“I don't have it anymore.”
“Why?”
“I tore it up.”
His jaw clenched.
“What did it say?”
“That you acknowledged the pregnancy but wanted no relationship with me or the babies.”
“I never signed anything.”
“It had your signature.”
“It was forged.”
I looked at him.
Six years ago, I would have wanted to believe that immediately.
Now belief came harder.
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
Luca stood straight.
“I expect you to question everything.”
His eyes fell to the ultrasound photograph.
“But I'm going to prove it.”
Ava tapped on the car window.
We all looked over.
She held up my phone.
Someone was calling.
The screen showed my mother's name.
I opened the door, took the phone and told the twins we'd leave in a minute.
When I closed it again, Luca was still staring at the children.
“Do they know anything about me?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“They know their father isn't part of our lives.”
His face tightened.
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth I believed.”
“Which was?”
“That their father chose not to be involved.”
Luca looked away.
The words hit him hard.
“They think I abandoned them.”
“I thought you had.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“How do we fix this?”
“We?”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Yes. We.”
“There is no we.”
“Nia—”
“You found out they exist ten minutes ago. You don't get to start making plans.”
“They're my children.”
“You don't know that officially.”
His face hardened.
“You know.”
“Knowing and proving are different things.”
“Then we'll do a DNA test.”
I stared at him.
That was when the billionaire returned.
Problem.
Solution.
Execution.
I almost laughed.
“You really haven't changed.”
His expression softened.
“I have.”
“No. You still think everything can be solved by the next appointment.”
“This isn't a business problem.”
“Then stop treating it like one.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go home.”
He stared at me.
“With Evelyn.”
The pain on her face told me their home was going to be a very different place tonight.
“And tomorrow?” he asked.
“I'll call you.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Nia.”
“I said I'll call.”
His eyes moved toward the children again.
“Can I at least know their names?”
That simple question hurt more than anything else.
I looked through the window.
Ava was making a face at Noah.
Noah tried not to laugh.
“Her name is Ava.”
Luca whispered it.
“Ava.”
“And that's Noah.”
He closed his eyes.
“Noah.”
I remembered once, years ago, sitting in bed with Luca while we discussed hypothetical children.
If we had a boy, he had liked Noah.
He had completely forgotten.
I hadn't.
Luca looked at me.
“Did you name him because—”
“Yes.”
His face broke.
I opened my door.
“Tomorrow, Luca.”
He nodded.
I drove away without looking in the mirror.
But after I put the children to bed that night, I stood alone in my kitchen and stared at the letter Evelyn had photographed for me before Luca took it.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Something made me answer.
“Hello?”
An elderly male voice spoke.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Raymond Cole. I used to work security at the Moretti residence.”
My blood turned cold.
“I heard Mr. Moretti was asking questions tonight.”
I gripped the counter.
“What questions?”
“About letters that disappeared six years ago.”
I stopped breathing.
The man continued.
“I've been waiting a long time for this.”
“For what?”
“To tell someone what really happened.”
I looked down the hallway toward my sleeping children.
May you like
Raymond lowered his voice.
“Mrs. Moretti wasn't working alone.”
