Seven years ago, he said something almost exactly like that.
Back then, he left me a message after I’d tried to distance myself from him, once I found out he was Mafia. He said:
“We’re meant to be together. You think you can avoid me? It’s not that easy.”
Back then, I was touched by how sure he was. I gave in. I said yes.
And then I entered his world, the Moretti family.
That was the first time I saw Maria.
I remember staring at her in confusion.
She was wearing an elegant cream dress and diamond earrings, standing in the foyer like she owned it.
I leaned close to Luca and asked, “You never told me you had a sister.”
He gave Maria this warm smile, then looked at me and said, “She’s not my sister. She’s our maid… or, more like, the maid’s daughter. Maria.”
That made no sense to me.
She looked like royalty. How the heck was that the maid?
From the first second I saw her, I envied her.
She was at ease in the house, knew every room, every person.
The family liked her. Trusted her.
Even Fiona, Luca’s mom, used to whisper her phone passcode to Maria in front of me, like it was nothing.
But the way she treated me?
Cold. Suspicious.
Always asking too many questions about my background, my parents, my education.
Every word had a layer of judgment underneath.
Even after I married Luca, Fiona never stopped comparing me to Maria.
Maria this, Maria that.
And Luca, he was the only one who ‘never’ brought Maria up.
Until now.
Because now? He was choosing her too.
The one person who once picked me was already gone.
The phone rang again.
Luca.
I let it ring twice… then answered.
Silence.
I guess he wasn’t expecting me to pick up.
Then, finally, he spoke, quieter than before.
“Let’s talk. Face to face. Will you, Catrina?”
I didn’t say anything, but tears rolled down my cheeks.
He must’ve heard it in my breath, because his voice softened.
“Don’t make any rash decisions. Please. Just come down to the garage. I know where you are. I’m already here.”
He wasn’t at the party?
That caught me off guard.
I hesitated for a moment… then grabbed my coat and went down.
The garage was quiet, dimly lit. His SUV was there.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
I wanted to yell, to accuse him, to ask every question that had been eating me alive.
But when I saw his face, messy hair, stubble, eyes full of something raw, I broke.
I cried.
He reached out and pulled me into a tight hug.
“I can’t stand the thought of divorcing you,” he said into my shoulder. “Even thinking about it hurts like hell.”
I stayed there for a moment.
Then I caught it, Maria’s perfume.
It was faint but unmistakable.
On the seat. On the fabric. On him.
I pulled away. My voice came out low and steady.
“Do you even know why I want a divorce, Luca?”
He didn’t answer.
I looked him straight in the eyes.
“It’s Maria. You keep saying I’m the problem. But I’ve hated her from the start. She’s taken everything from me, my place in this family, my daughter, even you. And now you defend her like she’s untouchable.”
I choked, the tears coming faster. “I gave up everything for you. And I ended up with nothing.”
Luca’s face changed. He reached for my hand.
“I’m sorry, Catrina. I’m really sorry. I never meant to say those things to you…”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but then his phone rang.
Not the default ringtone—no, this one was special. Sweet. Personal.
I guessed. Or rather, I knew. There was only one possible answer: Maria was calling.
Luca immediately held up a hand, signaling to pause the conversation.
“Sorry, I have to take this. It’s important. Can I step out for a moment? Let’s talk more in a bit.”
What could I say?
I just nodded, keeping my voice steady. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Before I’d come down, I was planning to ask why he took Maria to the beach, why he let her feed him in a public restaurant, why Dora now worships her like a second mother.
But now? I didn’t need the answers anymore. Because I already had them.
We’d both changed.
And I didn’t know if there was anything left to save.
