Chapter 4 - THE FIRST TIME MY CHILDREN CALLED HIM DAD, LUCA MORETTI COULDN’T SPEAK
Luca’s first official visit with Eli and Ella took place at the Lincoln Park Conservatory.
Neutral.
Public.
No mansion.
No Moretti Global headquarters.
No black SUVs parked in a threatening formation.
One discreet security man stayed fifty yards away because Luca Moretti apparently could not become an ordinary father without someone monitoring shrubbery.
I tolerated it.
Barely.
Eli arrived suspicious.
Ella arrived excited.
That difference had existed since birth.
Eli examined the world before entering it.
Ella entered first and asked whether the world wanted to play.
Luca waited beside a fountain.
He wore jeans.
Actual jeans.
Ella whispered:
“He looks less famous.”
I almost laughed.
Luca heard.
“So do you.”
Ella frowned.
“I’m not famous.”
“Good.”
Eli immediately asked:
“Are you rich?”
I closed my eyes.
Luca looked at me.
I shrugged.
That question was his.
“Yes.”
“How rich?”
“Eli.”
“What?”
Luca almost smiled.
“More than I need to be.”
“That means really rich.”
“Probably.”
Ella asked:
“Do you have a pool?”
“Yes.”
“Can we swim?”
“Ella.”
Luca looked at me again.
Smart.
“Maybe someday.”
Good.
They walked.
At first, conversation was terrible.
Luca asked about school.
Eli answered one word.
Ella told him everything.
Teacher names.
Favorite books.
The girl in class who cheated at spelling.
A caterpillar they were growing into a butterfly.
Luca listened like every sentence belonged in an archive.
Then Eli asked:
“Why weren’t you there when we were born?”
Everything stopped.
Luca looked at me.
I said nothing.
His answer.
He crouched so he was closer to Eli’s height.
“Because I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Mom didn’t tell you.”
“No.”
Eli looked at me.
Then back.
“Why?”
Luca swallowed.
“Because your mom and I hurt each other before you were born.”
“That’s not an answer.”
My son.
Of course.
Luca nodded.
“You’re right.”
He took a breath.
“I stopped trusting your mom when I should have trusted her.”
“I made her feel alone.”
“Then I ended our marriage.”
Eli frowned.
“Because you thought she couldn’t have kids.”
Luca’s face went pale.
I had told them enough.
He looked at me.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
“But she did.”
“Yes.”
“Us.”
“Yes.”
Eli crossed his arms.
“So you were wrong.”
Luca’s voice broke.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No:
Your grandmother manipulated me.
No:
The doctors confused us.
Just yes.
Ella reached for his hand.
Not because she understood the adult truth.
Because Luca looked sad.
He froze when her fingers touched his.
Then held carefully.
Eli watched.
His face remained hard.
Good.
He had the right.
At lunch, Ella asked if Luca knew how to make pancakes.
I nearly choked.
Wrong story, different family.
Luca said:
“Badly.”
Eli finally smiled.
“Mom makes them shaped like circles.”
“That is usually how circles work,” Luca said.
Eli laughed.
There.
First crack.
After the visit, Luca stood beside my car.
“Thank you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I missed seven years.”
“I’m aware.”
He looked toward the children buckling themselves in.
“Can I have another day this week?”
I stiffened.
He noticed.
“Too soon?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay.”
No pressure.
Then:
“What if I attend their museum trip Friday?”
I stared.
“How do you know about that?”
“Ella told me.”
Of course.
“Parent volunteers need background checks.”
Luca almost looked offended.
“I have passed federal background checks.”
“That sentence is not reassuring.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
For one second, the old Luca appeared.
The man I once loved.
I hated that my heart remembered.
“Ask the school.”
I said.
“I’m not promising.”
“Fair.”
He attended.
The sight of Luca Moretti wearing a yellow volunteer sticker while eighteen second-graders ignored him was one of the stranger experiences of my life.
Ella proudly introduced him.
“This is my dad.”
Luca stopped breathing.
I saw it from across the room.
Dad.
First time.
No ceremony.
No court order.
Just Ella pointing at him near a dinosaur exhibit.
Luca looked away.
His jaw tightened.
He needed several seconds.
Then one of the boys asked:
“Are you the airplane guy?”
Luca recovered.
“Apparently.”
Eli did not call him Dad.
Not yet.
Luca never asked.
That mattered.
Two weeks became six.
Six became three months.
Visits increased gradually.
Park.
Museum.
Lunch.
Luca came to a soccer game.
Eli scored once.
Luca jumped to his feet.
Then seemed embarrassed by how loudly he shouted.
Ella laughed at him.
One Saturday, Luca brought them to Moretti Global headquarters because Eli wanted to see “the place with the elevators on television.”
I went too.
My condition.
The forty-eighth floor contained Luca’s office.
Chicago spread beneath us.
Eli stared through the glass.
“You own this?”
“The company leases the floors.”
Eli frowned.
“You really hate saying you own stuff.”
I almost laughed.
Luca glanced at me.
“I’m learning.”
Then his assistant entered.
“Mr. Moretti, your mother is here.”
My entire body tightened.
Luca’s face changed.
“I didn’t schedule her.”
“She said she only needs five minutes.”
“No.”
The assistant froze.
Luca continued:
“My children are here.”
“Do not allow anyone into this floor without Nia’s approval.”
I stared at him.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
That was something.
Bianca Moretti did not appreciate waiting.
She called Luca’s phone.
He declined.
Again.
Declined.
Then mine rang.
Unknown number.
I knew.
I answered.
“Nia.”
Bianca’s voice had not changed in seven years.
Smooth.
Cultured.
Entitled.
“Bianca.”
“I understand my grandchildren are upstairs.”
There was no emotion in the word my that I trusted.
“They are with their father.”
“I would like to meet them.”
“No.”
Silence.
Bianca Moretti was unaccustomed to immediate no.
“Nia.”
“Not today.”
“I have already lost seven years.”
I almost laughed.
“You did not lose them.”
“You didn’t know about them.”
“Because you concealed them.”
My jaw tightened.
“Do not call me about this again.”
“You cannot keep Moretti children from their family.”
There.
Not Eli.
Not Ella.
Moretti children.
I looked through Luca’s glass wall.
He was kneeling beside Ella while she examined an architectural model.
“They are not corporate property.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t need to.”
I hung up.
Luca looked over.
He knew.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
His expression hardened.
“What did she say?”
“Exactly what you’re afraid she said.”
He closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do something better than sorry.”
He nodded.
Then walked into his conference room and called her.
I did not hear everything.
I heard enough.
“You do not contact Nia directly.”
Pause.
“No.”
Another pause.
“They are not heirs first.”
“They are children.”
My throat tightened.
Bianca’s voice rose faintly through the glass.
Luca’s did not.
“If you cannot understand that, you will not meet them.”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m not asking.”
He hung up.
Eli stood behind him.
Luca froze.
“How much did you hear?”
Eli shrugged.
“Your mom is bossy.”
I covered my mouth.
Luca stared at his son.
Then laughed.
“Yes.”
“She is.”
Eli considered.
“Were you scared of her?”
The laughter disappeared.
Luca looked at me.
Then answered.
“Yes.”
That was new.
Eli frowned.
“You’re a grown man.”
“I know.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
Luca’s mouth twitched.
“It is.”
Then Eli said:
“My teacher says being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
Luca stared.
My eyes burned.
“No.”
He said quietly.
“Your teacher is right.”
Eli looked at him for several seconds.
Then:
“Dad?”
Luca stopped breathing.
“Yeah?”
“Can we see the airplanes?”
I turned away because watching Luca cry would have destroyed something I was not ready to name.
Behind me, his voice cracked.
“Yeah.”
“Absolutely.”
The first time Eli called Luca Dad, it happened because he wanted to see a hangar.
May you like
Children are merciful that way.
They make enormous moments ordinary.
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