But I underestimated just how deep the Moretti name ran. 

Every time I tried to find a lawyer to help me file for divorce, they’d go quiet the second I said Luca’s name. 

Some got jittery. 

Others just straight up told me they “weren’t taking new clients.” 

But we both knew what it was. No one wanted to go against the Morettis. 

And just when I was running out of ideas, Luca called me. 

“Tomorrow’s Dora’s birthday,” he said, like he was talking about the weather. “She wants to see her mom.” 

My chest tightened. “Dora wants to see me?” I tried to stay cool, but my voice cracked a little. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’d lie about that?” Then I heard Dora’s voice in the background. 

“I want to see my mom.” 

That tiny voice hit me like a punch to the gut. 

I blinked fast, trying not to cry. I smiled for the first time in weeks. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” I said quickly, before she could change her mind. 

I asked Luca, “Where we meeting?” 

“The Villa Rosetta. Via Bellagio 1925.” 

Villa Rosetta. Of course. One of the Moretti estates. Where his parents stayed most of the time. That part made me nervous. 

“Wait,” I asked, “is it gonna be just the three of us? You, me, Dora?” 

But the line was already dead. 

I had a bad feeling. 

*** 

Still, I showed up the next day. I wore my nicest dress. 

I told myself this might be the last time I ever saw Luca, or any of them, because once I had Dora with me, I was gone. 

I’d saved for years, stashed cash no one knew about. 

Maybe I couldn’t legally divorce him, but I could start a new life. 

A quiet one. Just me and my daughter. 

When I arrived, the smell of homemade food hit me right away. 

Fiona was actually cooking in the kitchen, and the maid, Maria’s mother, was hanging up streamers and flowers.