Chapter 8
As I stepped out of the clinic, Dora came running after me.
“Mom, wait! I wanna go with you.”
She reached for my hand, and I looked down, surprised.
On her wrist wasn’t that diamond bracelet Fiona gave her; it was the one I made by hand, with pink beads and tiny cartoon
charms. No sparkle, no luxury. Just love.
I smiled a little and squeezed her hand back. “You choose to wear this?”
She nodded. “It’s my favorite.”
We walked together down the hallway toward the living room.
As we turned the corner, we ran into Luca’s father, Don Moretti, the old man himself.
He looked…older. Slower. There were more white hairs in his slicked–back hair than I remembered. He wasn’t the same iron- fisted man from before.
He eyed me up and down, then said in that deep, unreadable voice, “I underestimated you, Catrina. Didn’t think Luca could ever be that attached to anyone.”
I raised an eyebrow, ready to throw something back, but then his voice softened.
“I had the new maid clean your old place. You can stay there, or in this villa. Your choice.”
I didn’t say anything.
That house? It held too many lonely nights. This villa? Too many painful memories.
I didn’t want either.
But I wasn’t about to explain myself to the Don. So I just stayed quiet.
He glanced between me and Dora, nodded like he understood something I didn’t, and walked away.
In the living room, Fiona was waiting. She gave me a practiced smile.
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“Catrina,” she said, “I’ve let that maid and her daughter go. You can see it for yourself. We’ve ignored your feelings for too long. Will you come back?”
I stayed silent again. But this time, Dora stepped up for me.
“Grandma,” she said softly, “give Mom some time. Please.”
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Fiona nodded, then turned to the new maid. “Get the kitchen started. Cook her favorite, like grilled fish, lemon butter.”
We sat through dinner, but I barely touched my plate.
My mind was somewhere else, with Eason. With peace. With simplicity.
>
Fiona finally said, “Maria’s out of the picture, I swear. She means nothing to us now.”
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The old Don added, “We can even move the anniversary dinner to next month. Whatever makes it easier for you.
put down my fork and slowly looked up at them.
“There’s no need for that,” I said. “I’ve already found someone else.”
Fiona’s smile froze. “What do you mean…someone else?”
