Chapter 8 - THE AUDIT THAT BROKE THE MORETTI BOARD
The audit lasted eleven months.
By then, Elias could sit unsupported.
Elise was four.
Lucian and I communicated mostly through a parenting application because emotions had a way of turning simple scheduling into old wounds.
He never complained.
That mattered.
The Moretti audit uncovered exactly what I expected.
And several things I did not.
Lucian had used corporate systems improperly to hide personal obligations.
The Vienna apartment.
Foundation donations to Elise’s daycare.
Travel arrangements booked through company security.
Legal work billed through general counsel.
None of it was illegal in the dramatic way newspapers wanted.
No bags of cash.
No stolen pension funds.
But governance failures were real.
Related-party transactions had not been disclosed properly.
Outside investors were entitled to know.
Lucian personally reimbursed the affected entities.
More than $1.8 million.
He did not negotiate.
That surprised Enzo’s allies.
Then the audit moved backward.
Toward Enzo.
That was when everything exploded.
Enzo had spent years using Moretti subsidiaries for his own family.
A villa in Sardinia.
Private school payments for grandchildren.
Aircraft hours.
Consulting contracts to friends.
Lucian’s secrecy had been smaller in value but similar in structure.
The system allowed powerful family members to blur company and personal property.
Once outside auditors opened the door, Enzo’s empire came through behind it.
Matteo called me one evening.
“You were right.”
“I don’t remember asking.”
“About the family rearranging chairs.”
I smiled.
“What happened?”
“Three directors resigned.”
“Enzo?”
“Under investigation.”
“Lucia?”
“Furious.”
“With who?”
“Everyone.”
Sounds right.
The board adopted new policies.
Independent CEO.
Independent audit committee.
No family member as automatic chair.
No related-party transaction without review.
The medieval descendant language was challenged and eventually amended.
Elise became recognized as Lucian’s child for trust and economic purposes.
So did Elias.
Equal.
That mattered to me.
Not because I wanted Elias to inherit an empire.
Frankly, by then I wanted him to become a dentist and move to Colorado.
But equality mattered.
The media lost interest once the scandal became accounting.
Good.
Accounting saves lives from tabloids.
Then one article appeared:
FORMER MORETTI CEO MAY RETURN AFTER GOVERNANCE CLEANUP.
I stared.
Lucian had never mentioned it.
That irritated me.
Which was ridiculous because we were divorced.
Almost.
Final hearing scheduled in two months.
He did not owe me career consultation.
Still.
I texted:
Are you returning?
His answer:
No.
I stared.
Article says board considering it.
They are. I declined.
Why?
I almost typed.
Then stopped.
Not my business.
Lucian sent another message.
You’re wondering why.
Annoying man.
I replied:
No.
Liar.
I almost smiled.
Then he wrote:
Because I don’t know who I am without control yet. I don’t want to rebuild the same life because the board gives me permission.
I stared.
Therapy.
Clearly.
What are you doing instead?
Board seat after audit. No management. Working on ports foundation. Being a father.
That last one mattered.
Lucian had become a good father under conditions that did not benefit him romantically.
He attended cardiology appointments.
Never missed parenting time.
Learned diapers.
Formula.
Eventually solid foods.
He did not outsource fatherhood to staff.
With Elise, he became more public.
No paparazzi parade.
No dramatic acknowledgment.
Simply no more hiding.
She spent part of each month in Chicago when medical care required it.
The rest in Vienna.
Lucian traveled openly.
I knew because parenting schedule required it.
No lies.
Still, trust remained broken.
One night, Elias developed a fever during Lucian’s parenting time.
He called.
“101.8.”
“How is he acting?”
“Fussy. Drinking.”
“Any breathing issue?”
“No.”
“Call pediatrician.”
“I already did.”
“What did they say?”
“Monitor. Fluids. Call back if worse.”
I paused.
Old Lucian would have flown in a specialist.
New Lucian called the pediatrician.
Normal.
“Send me a photo.”
He did.
Elias looked miserable.
I drove to Lucian’s house.
Not because he asked.
Because my son was sick.
That was the first time I entered since separation.
The house felt both familiar and foreign.
Our wedding photograph was gone.
Good.
Not thrown away.
Stored.
Elise’s artwork covered the refrigerator.
Elias’s too.
Lucian had actually learned magnets.
“Where is he?”
“Upstairs.”
I entered the nursery.
Elias lay against Lucian’s chest.
Lucian sat in a rocking chair.
Our son’s flushed face rested under his chin.
The scene hit me strangely.
O’Hare.
Lucian holding Elise.
The familiarity that destroyed me.
Now I saw the same familiarity with Elias.
Not replacement.
Fatherhood.
Lucian looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I know this might…”
He stopped.
“Trigger you?”
“Yes.”
I appreciated the word.
“It does.”
He swallowed.
“Do you want me to put him down?”
“No.”
I sat.
We spent four hours monitoring fever.
Nothing dramatic.
At midnight, Elias improved.
I should have left.
Instead, I stayed for coffee.
Bad decision.
Maybe.
Necessary.
We talked.
Not about reconciliation.
About the audit.
About Enzo.
About Lucia.
About Vivien.
“Do you hate her?” I asked.
“No.”
“Love her?”
Lucian thought.
“No.”
“Think you ever did?”
“Yes.”
Honest.
“Different from me?”
“Yes.”
That hurt.
“What was different?”
“With Vivien, I could disappear.”
I waited.
“With you, I was known.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“It wasn’t always.”
Good.
He continued.
“When IVF got hard, I felt helpless.”
“So you escaped.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me you were struggling.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“You knew how to sleep with someone else.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I did not soften it.
Then he said:
“I thought being strong meant never telling you I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“That we would never have children.”
My throat tightened.
“That you’d regret marrying me.”
Why me?
I almost asked.
Then understood.
Moretti men solved things.
Money.
Logistics.
Threats.
Fertility could not be negotiated.
He hated helplessness.
So he found one part of life where someone wanted him without medical schedules.
That explained.
Did not excuse.
“I was scared too,” I said.
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You know now.”
He nodded.
“You didn’t know then because you stopped asking.”
Silence.
That was perhaps the deepest betrayal.
Not sex.
Disengagement.
He had abandoned me emotionally before he betrayed me physically.
Then another truth.
“I loved you the entire time,” he said.
“I know.”
“You believe that?”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“Why?”
“Because I finally understand love does not guarantee character.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Not punishment.
Truth.
The divorce finalized six weeks later.
Courtroom.
Simple.
No fight.
Custody agreement.
Property per prenup and settlement.
Lucian signed.
I signed.
The judge declared the marriage dissolved.
I expected something dramatic inside me.
Nothing.
Outside, Lucian stood near the elevators.
“Naomi.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“If you ever need—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I need you to be Elias’s father.”
“Yes.”
“And Elise’s.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“That’s enough.”
He nodded.
We walked in opposite directions.
May you like
Not knowing that the next chapter of our lives would not begin with romance.
It would begin with a four-year-old girl refusing to enter a hospital room without me.
