Chapter 5 - BIANCA MORETTI SAID SHE WAS ONLY TRYING TO SAVE HER SON
Bianca met the twins four months after Luca discovered them.
Not sooner.
That was intentional.
She had apologized to Luca.
Not to me.
She had agreed to conditions.
No photographers.
No gifts above a modest amount.
No discussions of inheritance.
No calling them “Moretti heirs.”
No unscheduled access.
Bianca described the rules as insulting.
Luca replied:
“Then don’t come.”
She came.
We met at Luca’s townhouse.
Not the lakefront Moretti estate where Bianca lived.
Neutral enough.
Evelyn was no longer living there.
That situation remained complicated.
She and Luca had formally separated.
No divorce filing yet.
I avoided asking questions.
Not my marriage.
The twins arrived carrying board games.
Bianca arrived carrying nothing.
That surprised me.
Maybe she had listened.
For the first fifteen minutes, she behaved perfectly.
Ella liked her earrings.
Eli asked why she called Luca every morning.
Bianca stared at him.
Luca nearly choked on coffee.
“I do not call every morning.”
“Dad said you used to.”
Silence.
I looked at Luca.
He looked guilty.
Bianca smiled tightly.
“Your father exaggerates.”
Luca immediately said:
“No.”
Everything stopped.
He looked at his mother.
“I used to speak to you every morning.”
Bianca’s face changed.
Small.
But I saw.
Luca continued:
“Don’t teach them that truth is disrespectful.”
My chest tightened.
Bianca sat straighter.
“Of course.”
The afternoon continued.
Then Ella brought out an old photograph she carried in her backpack.
Me holding both twins on their first birthday.
Cake everywhere.
Bianca stared.
Her eyes filled.
Real tears.
“I missed this.”
I said nothing.
She looked at me.
“You should have told us.”
There.
Luca’s face tightened.
“Mom.”
“No.”
Bianca turned to me.
“I am allowed to say it.”
“Yes.”
I surprised everyone.
“You are.”
Bianca paused.
I continued:
“I should have told Luca.”
Her eyes sharpened with victory.
Then:
“But not you.”
Victory disappeared.
“You were their grandmother.”
“Biologically.”
“Yes.”
“You were also one of the people who spent years making me feel like my failure to become pregnant was a moral defect.”
Bianca went still.
Luca looked down.
Ella and Eli were upstairs with Luca’s housekeeper choosing ice cream.
I had agreed to this conversation only while they were gone.
Bianca whispered:
“I never said that.”
“No.”
“You asked whether women in my family had problems.”
“You recommended clinics I didn’t request.”
“You told Luca privately that some women hide reproductive histories because they’re ashamed.”
Her face changed.
Luca looked at her.
“What?”
There.
He did not know that part.
Bianca stared at me.
I continued:
“You told me maybe Luca needed a wife who could understand what legacy meant.”
Luca stood.
“You said that?”
Bianca’s face hardened.
“Nia is remembering emotionally.”
I almost laughed.
Luca did not.
“Did you say it?”
Silence.
Then:
“I was concerned.”
“Did you say it?”
“Yes.”
Luca looked as if she had struck him.
Bianca rose.
“I was watching my son destroy himself.”
“Over what?”
“Trying to build a family that wasn’t happening.”
Luca’s voice became cold.
“So you blamed Nia.”
“I considered probabilities.”
“No.”
I said.
“You considered usefulness.”
Bianca looked at me.
“You had become unstable.”
I laughed.
“Infertility appointments made me sad.”
“You stopped attending family functions.”
“Because every dinner included someone asking when I planned to give you a grandchild.”
Bianca waved one hand.
“That was not malicious.”
“Impact does not require malice.”
She stared.
Interesting.
Apparently no one spoke to her that way.
Luca whispered:
“Who told you Nia might have hidden medical history?”
Bianca went still.
There it was.
The original poison.
I looked at Luca.
He looked at his mother.
“Mom.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember everything.”
His voice hardened.
“Who?”
Bianca looked toward the windows.
Then:
“Dr. Warren.”
My stomach dropped.
Dr. Adrian Warren.
One of the fertility specialists we had seen.
Not our primary doctor.
A consultant Bianca recommended after our first year of failed treatments.
Luca had attended two appointments with him.
I attended one.
I hated him.
He barely looked at me.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Bianca hesitated.
“That your results suggested reduced probability.”
“What results?”
“I don’t remember.”
I almost laughed.
“Convenient.”
Luca was already reaching for his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“My medical counsel.”
Bianca’s eyes sharpened.
“Luca.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I spent seven years thinking Nia kept something from me.”
“I want every original record.”
Bianca said:
“You are turning this into something it wasn’t.”
“What was it?”
Silence.
Then she finally snapped.
“I was trying to save my son.”
The room became still.
Luca looked at her.
“From what?”
Bianca’s composure cracked.
“From wasting his life.”
My chest tightened.
“There it is.”
Bianca looked at me.
“You were both miserable.”
“You were failing treatment after treatment.”
“Luca was missing opportunities.”
“He was distracted.”
“He was becoming weak.”
Luca whispered:
“Because I loved my wife?”
“Because you were drowning with her.”
The words hung in the room.
I saw Luca finally understand the architecture.
Bianca had not only doubted my fertility.
She had viewed my pain as something contaminating her son.
If Luca’s wife could not give him children and made him sad?
Remove wife.
Restore focus.
Find someone more suitable later.
Evelyn.
Elegant.
Healthy.
Old family.
Except Evelyn had not produced children either.
Because the original assumption had never been sound.
Luca stared at Bianca.
“You wanted me to leave Nia.”
“I wanted you to stop suffering.”
“You wanted me to stop looking at her suffering.”
Bianca’s mouth closed.
Good.
Then Luca said:
“You did not make me leave her.”
I looked at him.
He continued:
“You influenced me.”
“You fed suspicion.”
“But I chose it.”
My throat tightened.
Bianca immediately said:
“Luca—”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I chose not to ask Nia directly.”
“I chose to believe silence.”
“I chose work.”
“I chose distance.”
Then he looked at his mother.
“You don’t get to become the explanation that makes me innocent.”
That was the moment I knew Luca had actually changed.
Not because he defended me.
Because he refused the easiest exit.
Bianca cried.
Real tears.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“You’re my son.”
“I know.”
“I was terrified you would lose everything.”
Luca laughed bitterly.
“I lost my wife.”
“My children.”
“Seven years.”
His voice broke.
“What exactly did you save?”
Bianca sat down.
For the first time in my life, she looked old.
Not powerful.
Not defeated.
Old.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then Luca’s phone rang.
His attorney.
Medical-record request had already hit a problem.
Dr. Warren’s clinic closed four years earlier.
Records transferred to a medical storage company.
Some existed.
Some did not.
But one former nurse had been located.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan.
She remembered us.
And according to Luca’s attorney, the moment she heard our names, she said:
“I wondered if this was ever going to come back.”
My skin went cold.
Luca stared at the phone.
May you like
Bianca stopped crying.
And I knew instantly that whatever Dr. Warren had told Luca years ago had not been the full story.
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