Chapter 13 - THE NURSERY BUILT BY A DEAD GRANDFATHER
The lake house stood under snow.
Quiet.
Almost ordinary.
Roman had visited as a child.
He never knew the locked upstairs room existed.
The key fit.
Inside:
Two cribs.
One painted pale blue.
One pale green.
Unfinished.
Boxes of children’s books.
A wooden rocking horse.
And a small camera on a tripod.
Norah covered her mouth.
Roman could not move.
His father had prepared for grandchildren he never met.
On the table sat an envelope:
FOR ROMAN AND NORAH.
They played the video.
Vittorio appeared thinner than before.
Close to death.
“I owe both of you apologies.”
Roman looked down.
“Norah, I frightened you.”
Her eyes filled.
“I told myself fear would move you faster than truth.”
Vittorio shook his head.
“That was cowardice.”
Norah whispered:
“At least he knew.”
The video continued.
“Roman, I raised you to believe control was protection.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“I was wrong.”
Then Vittorio smiled faintly.
“When I learned about the babies, I started building this room.”
He looked off-camera.
“I never knew whether there would be one child or two.”
Roman almost laughed through tears.
“So I prepared for everything badly.”
The camera showed three cribs in the corner.
Three.
Norah looked at Roman.
The prenatal report they later found had mentioned a third early sac.
Vittorio had somehow known.
His face softened on-screen.
“If one is lost, remember the child existed even if only briefly.”
Norah began crying.
Roman took her hand.
Vittorio continued:
“Do not make grief into guilt.”
The sentence landed exactly where both needed it.
Then:
“And do not give these children the Moretti future unless they ask for it.”
Roman looked at Grace.
Elias.
Sleeping nearby.
“Give them choices.”
The video ended.
No conspiracy.
No final villain.
Just a father admitting he had been wrong too late.
That night, Roman and Norah sat on the nursery floor.
No guards.
No lawyers.
No plans.
Norah leaned against the crib.
“Do you want them to be Morettis?”
Roman thought.
“I want them to know where they came from.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He smiled faintly.
“No.”
She waited.
“I want them to be whoever they choose.”
That answer mattered.
Then Norah looked at him.
“And us?”
Roman’s heart tightened.
“I want you.”
She said nothing.
“But I don’t want you trapped.”
Silence.
“So I won’t ask you to come back.”
Her eyes filled.
Roman continued.
“I’ll be their father whether you love me or hate me.”
A tear escaped.
“And if someday you want me again…”
He swallowed.
“You can choose me.”
Norah reached for his hand.
“I already do.”
Roman stopped breathing.
She continued.
“But choice isn’t the same as trust.”
“I know.”
“Trust takes time.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“So date me.”
Roman blinked.
“What?”
“Take me to dinner.”
“My wife is asking me to date her.”
“Your wife who disappeared for a year.”
“Fair.”
“One dinner.”
Roman smiled.
“No guns at the table?”
“No guns anywhere near dessert.”
“Harsh.”
She laughed.
Then kissed his cheek.
Roman closed his eyes.
May you like
For the first time in twelve months, hope felt more dangerous than revenge.
And much better.
