Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN I HAD TO MEET AGAIN
Six months passed.
I moved my primary residence to Boston.
Not into Evelyn’s house.
Three blocks away.
That mattered.
Marcus took over the legitimate Moretti businesses in Chicago under independent oversight. The criminal organization fractured after Lorenzo’s arrest, and I let it.
Some men called me weak.
None of them had ever had Sofia asleep on their chest after refusing to nap for six hours.
Weakness seemed excellent.
I attended preschool pickup.
Pediatric appointments.
A disastrous music class where Leo hit a drum for forty straight minutes.
I learned Sofia hated peas.
Leo loved blueberries.
Both children believed pants were optional after 7 p.m.
I learned things money could never hire someone else to know.
Evelyn watched.
Not warmly at first.
Carefully.
I never blamed her.
One evening after I returned the twins, she stopped me at the door.
“Coffee?”
I looked behind me as if there might be another Adrian.
“With you?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I’m already inside.”
“No, you’re not.”
Fair.
We sat at the kitchen table where months earlier she had shown me my mother’s forged letter.
No lawyers.
No Marcus.
No Nathan.
Just us.
“How’s Nathan?” I asked.
“Good.”
“He dating?”
Her eyebrow lifted.
“That’s remarkably none of your business.”
“Right.”
She smiled.
Small.
But real.
I had missed that smile more than I missed power.
Then she asked:
“Why haven’t you asked me to come back?”
The question surprised me.
“Because you never asked me to.”
“That has never stopped you before.”
“That Adrian destroyed our marriage.”
Silence.
I continued.
“I don’t want you because Nathan is gone. I don’t want you because we have children. And I don’t want the old marriage back.”
Her eyes filled slightly.
“What do you want?”
“To meet you again.”
She laughed softly.
“You know me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I knew the woman who spent years adjusting herself around my schedule. I want to know the woman who built a life after me.”
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then:
“One dinner.”
My heart hammered.
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Adrian.”
“Friday?”
She tried not to smile.
“Friday.”
Our first new date lasted three hours.
No bodyguards at the table.
No business calls.
My phone stayed in the car.
Halfway through dinner, Evelyn noticed.
“You left your phone?”
“Yes.”
“What if Chicago explodes?”
“Marcus has a fire extinguisher.”
She laughed.
I would have surrendered three more empires for that sound.
Then, as we left the restaurant, she took my hand.
Only briefly.
But voluntarily.
And that was more than I deserved.
The next morning, Victoria sent Evelyn a letter.
Not to me.
To Evelyn.
Inside was no excuse.
Only an apology and a legal document.
Victoria had permanently renounced any ability to exercise Moretti family rights involving the twins.
At the bottom she had written:
May you like
If they ever know me, it should be because you decide I have earned it.
For the first time, my mother had learned the same lesson I had.
