Chapter 2 - Luca Approaches the Table With Dread
The low hum of conversation in the elite Chicago dining room suddenly felt miles away to Luca Moretti.
His polished leather shoes felt glued to the imported French oak flooring as his eyes remained locked on the two small faces across the room.
Evelyn's hand tightened on his arm, her fingernails pressing through his custom suit jacket in sudden confusion.
“Luca, darling, what is wrong with you? You look as though you've just seen a ghost,” Evelyn whispered, her voice laced with irritation.
He didn't hear her.
He couldn't hear anything over the deafening roar of his own racing heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Those eyes staring up from the dessert menu weren't just similar; they were an absolute carbon copy of his own reflection.
The sharp arch of the eyebrows, the distinct shape of the jawline, and that undeniable intensity in the gaze belonged to nobody else on earth.
They belonged to a Moretti.
Specifically, they belonged to him.
Nia sat across from them, her posture straight, her chin held high with an elegance he had never quite appreciated during their turbulent marriage.
She had changed, shedding the quiet, hesitant woman who used to cry over negative pregnancy tests in their sterile penthouse bathroom.
Now, she looked like a queen protecting her throne.
Luca took a slow, agonizing step forward, his chest tightening as if a steel band were slowly contracting around his ribs.
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“Luca, stop it right now. Who are those people?” Evelyn demanded, trying to pull him backward by his sleeve.
“Quiet, Evelyn,” Luca muttered, his voice sounding raspy and foreign even to his own ears.
