Chapter 7 - EVELYN SHAW REFUSED TO BECOME THE OTHER WOMAN IN MY SECOND CHANCE
Evelyn called me herself.
Six months after Bellafonte.
Two weeks after her divorce petition became public.
I almost did not answer.
Then I did.
“Nia.”
“Evelyn.”
“I need fifteen minutes.”
“For?”
“Your children.”
My body tightened.
“What about them?”
“Photographs are about to leak.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“What?”
Evelyn’s voice remained controlled.
“I still have contacts in Chicago legal media.”
“A reporter has been offered DNA confirmation and school photographs.”
My blood pressure seemed to disappear.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Luca?”
“No.”
She answered instantly.
“He’s trying to stop publication.”
Of course he knew.
“Why didn’t he call me?”
“He learned six minutes ago.”
Fair.
Then:
“I can file emergency privacy motions faster than his current counsel because I already have relationships with the publication’s attorneys.”
I froze.
“Why would you help?”
Silence.
Then Evelyn said:
“Because they’re children.”
Simple.
I sat down.
“What do you need?”
“Permission for my office to coordinate with Amelia.”
“Yes.”
“Send everything.”
Within an hour, Amelia and Evelyn were on a secure call.
Luca joined.
I listened.
A gossip site had obtained photographs of Eli and Ella leaving their school back home.
Not Chicago.
Someone had been watching.
My entire body shook.
Luca looked through the screen.
“Nia.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Do not tell me to calm down.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Good.
Evelyn traced the first contact to a public-relations consultant.
Consultant had previously worked for Moretti Family Office.
My stomach dropped.
Bianca.
Luca’s face went cold.
He called his security director.
Not his mother.
Evidence first.
Records came fast.
The consultant, Gregory Vale, admitted under legal pressure that he had been asked to “prepare public positioning around recognition of Mr. Moretti’s children.”
By who?
Bianca’s personal assistant.
Not Bianca directly.
Again.
Distance.
Luca stood from his chair.
Evelyn said:
“Sit.”
He stared.
She continued:
“If you call your mother angry, you give her time to destroy records.”
Luca sat.
I almost smiled despite terror.
Evelyn was terrifying.
We obtained an injunction preventing publication of the children’s school details and DNA material.
The site still published a story:
LUCA MORETTI’S SECRET TWINS.
No photographs of faces.
No school.
Still awful.
The internet exploded.
Moretti Global stock moved even though the company was privately held through complex holdings and none of it should have mattered.
Business reporters began discussing succession.
Succession.
My seven-year-olds became financial vocabulary.
I wanted to scream.
Luca released one statement:
Eli and Ella are my children. They are minors and not public figures. Any attempt to photograph, follow, contact, or commercially exploit them will be addressed through appropriate legal channels. There will be no further statement regarding their private lives.
No:
Heirs.
No:
Moretti legacy.
Good.
Then Bianca called me.
I did not answer.
She called Luca.
He did.
On speaker.
My choice.
Bianca sounded furious.
“I was trying to control the narrative.”
Luca said:
“There was no narrative.”
“There was going to be.”
“So you created one first.”
“The markets—”
“They are children.”
“The family has obligations.”
“Nia and I have obligations.”
Silence.
Then Bianca said:
“You are allowing her to control access to your own children.”
Luca looked at me.
Then answered.
“No.”
“I am respecting their mother.”
The difference mattered.
Bianca scoffed.
“Nia stole seven years.”
I flinched.
Luca did not deny.
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
“She made a wrong decision.”
My chest tightened.
Then:
“And I created the conditions that made that decision feel safer to her than telling me.”
Silence.
Bianca said:
“You always defend her now.”
“No.”
“I am trying to tell the truth without choosing whichever version makes me feel better.”
I had to look away.
Then Luca said:
“You will not see Eli or Ella until you demonstrate you understand why leaking them was wrong.”
“You cannot keep my grandchildren—”
“I can.”
His voice became cold.
“And I will.”
He ended the call.
Later, Evelyn found me alone outside the conference room.
The lawyers were still working.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I almost laughed.
Then:
“I’m sorry about your marriage.”
Evelyn leaned against the wall.
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
She studied me.
“Why?”
“Because I know what it feels like when the person you married turns out to have been living inside a story you didn’t know existed.”
That landed.
Evelyn looked away.
Then:
“I don’t hate you.”
“Thank you?”
“It isn’t a gift.”
“Fair.”
She continued:
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“I spent years trying to have children with him.”
“Then two appeared.”
“I wanted someone to blame.”
“That’s familiar.”
She almost smiled.
“Then I realized blaming you would be convenient.”
She looked toward the conference room where Luca sat.
“He loves you.”
My chest tightened.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not matchmaking.”
“Good.”
“I am warning you.”
That surprised me.
Evelyn continued:
“Luca is changing.”
“Yes.”
“Guilt can look a lot like devotion when someone has enough money to make dramatic gestures.”
I stared.
That was a very good sentence.
She continued:
“Do not let him rebuild a relationship with you because he is trying to compensate for seven years.”
“I won’t.”
“And do not go back because the children want a complete family.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
I smiled faintly.
“You give excellent advice to your husband’s ex-wife.”
“Former husband soon.”
Her voice softened.
“And I spent fifteen years billing corporations to hear uncomfortable facts.”
“Old habits.”
Then I asked:
“Why are you really leaving him?”
Evelyn thought.
“Because I don’t want to wait inside another woman’s unfinished marriage.”
My throat tightened.
She continued:
“He and I had real things.”
“Friendship.”
“Respect.”
“Some love.”
“But there was always a locked room in him.”
“I thought it was ambition.”
“It was you.”
I looked away.
“That isn’t fair.”
“No.”
“To either of us.”
Exactly.
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“I’m not leaving so you can take my place.”
“Good.”
“I’m leaving because I want my own place.”
There.
She extended her hand.
I took it.
Not friendship.
Not yet.
Something cleaner.
Recognition.
A year later, Evelyn’s divorce would be finalized.
She would become one of the strongest legal advocates protecting my children’s privacy.
Not because she loved Luca.
May you like
Because she respected herself enough not to turn pain into cruelty.
I would never forget that.
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