Chapter 9 - SOPHIE’S SCHOOL CALLED ADRIAN BEFORE IT CALLED CLAIRE
The call came on a Thursday afternoon.
Claire was in a hotel budgeting meeting when her phone vibrated.
Maple Ridge Academy.
Her heart jumped.
She answered immediately.
“This is Claire.”
The school nurse sounded calm.
“Sophie is okay.”
Terrible way to begin.
“What happened?”
“She fell during recess.”
Claire stood.
“How bad?”
“Possible wrist fracture.”
“I’m coming.”
Then the nurse said something strange.
“Mr. Moretti is already on his way.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“Adrian Moretti.”
“How did you call him?”
Silence.
Then:
“He’s listed as secondary emergency contact.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Sophie.
Of course.
Two weeks earlier, the school had sent home emergency forms.
Claire had signed them.
Had she read every line?
Apparently not.
She called Adrian.
He answered on first ring.
“I’m three minutes away.”
“Why are you her emergency contact?”
Silence.
“Adrian.”
“Sophie added me.”
“She is eight.”
“Nine.”
“Not the point.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you had.”
“I did not.”
“Then we’ll correct it.”
Good.
No defensiveness.
Claire drove.
At the hospital, Sophie sat on a bed holding an ice pack.
Adrian stood beside her.
No entourage in the room.
Claire entered.
“Sophie.”
The girl looked guilty.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Wrist?”
“Hurts.”
Claire kissed her forehead.
Then looked at Adrian.
Later.
He understood.
Doctor confirmed small fracture.
Cast.
Four weeks.
Sophie chose purple.
After discharge, Claire sat in the car with her daughter.
“Why did you put Adrian on the form?”
Sophie looked at the cast.
“In case.”
“In case what?”
“You’re at work.”
“Mrs. Ortiz is our backup.”
“She went to Florida.”
“Grandma?”
Claire’s mother was dead.
Sophie meant maybe Michael’s mother?
No.
Then she sighed.
“Adrian comes fast.”
Claire’s heart tightened.
The child associated Adrian with arrival.
That mattered.
“Did he ask you?”
“No.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Then you cannot add adults to official forms yourself.”
“Okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you’d say no.”
There it was.
Claire looked at her.
“Then hiding it was not okay.”
Sophie nodded.
“Sorry.”
Claire softened.
“Do you want him as emergency contact?”
“Yes.”
That question mattered too.
Claire thought.
Then:
“Maybe.”
Sophie smiled.
“Really?”
“I have to ask him.”
“He’ll say yes.”
“Probably.”
Then Sophie became serious.
“Would that make him like a dad?”
Claire stopped.
“No.”
“Good.”
That surprised her.
“Why good?”
“Because Dad is Dad.”
Michael.
The father Sophie never remembered but knew through stories.
“Yes.”
“But Adrian can be Adrian.”
Claire smiled.
Hearts do not have one chair.
Thomas again.
That evening, Claire went to Adrian’s apartment.
Not office.
First time.
She stood at the door and immediately regretted coming.
Adrian opened.
No tie.
White shirt sleeves rolled.
He looked almost ordinary.
Dangerous.
“Is Sophie okay?”
“Yes.”
“Come in.”
She did.
The apartment was warmer than expected.
Books.
Old records.
A photograph of Luca.
One of Elena.
No weapons displayed like movie nonsense.
Claire stood.
“We need to talk.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Stop.”
He smiled faintly.
“Emergency contact.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
He nodded.
“Sophie wants you listed.”
His expression changed.
“Do you?”
Claire took a breath.
“I trust you with her in an emergency.”
Something powerful moved across his face.
Not triumph.
Weight.
“That means more than you think.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m trying.”
“Secondary contact.”
“Fine.”
“Mrs. Ortiz returns first when she’s back.”
“Fine.”
“No making decisions unless I’m unreachable.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I understand how emergency contacts work.”
“Your personality suggests otherwise.”
He laughed.
Then silence.
Too comfortable.
Claire looked around.
“Dinner?”
He asked.
She stared.
“With Sophie?”
“No.”
Pulse.
“Business?”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“I am asking once.”
He stepped farther away.
“Outside the hotel.”
“No work discussion.”
“No security at the table.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Nearby.”
“Of course.”
“One dinner.”
Claire should say no.
He was still technically her ultimate corporate superior.
But six months earlier, the board had restructured hotel operations after the investigation.
Claire now reported to an independent hospitality CEO.
Adrian remained owner and chairman, but he no longer controlled her employment directly.
She had insisted.
He agreed.
The power imbalance had changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
“One dinner.”
His expression softened.
“Saturday.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Sophie has ballet.”
“Sunday.”
“School project.”
“Monday.”
“I work.”
He stared.
Claire smiled.
“Wednesday.”
“Seven.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Why?”
“I like making you negotiate.”
He almost smiled.
Their first date was terrible.
Not emotionally.
Logistically.
The restaurant lost their reservation.
Adrian’s security vehicle got a flat tire.
A waiter spilled water on him.
Claire laughed so hard she cried.
Adrian looked offended.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Very.”
“You’re cruel.”
“Refreshing, isn’t it?”
He stared.
Then laughed.
They talked.
No murder.
No Vanessa.
No hotel metrics.
Adrian told her he wanted to study architecture before his father forced him into business.
Claire told him she once wanted to open a bakery but realized she hated waking at four.
He admitted he was terrified of becoming like Salvatore.
Claire answered:
“Being afraid of it doesn’t prevent it.”
“I know.”
“What does?”
“Choices.”
Good.
At the end, he walked her to her car.
“Can I kiss you?”
Claire stared.
“Who are you and what happened to Adrian Moretti?”
“I’m being respectful.”
“Disturbing.”
He waited.
She smiled.
“Yes.”
The kiss was careful.
Short.
No ownership.
No audience.
When Claire got home, Sophie was waiting on the couch with Mrs. Ortiz.
“How was your date?”
Claire nearly dropped her bag.
“You were asleep.”
“No.”
“Go to bed.”
“Did you kiss?”
“Sophie.”
Mrs. Ortiz laughed from the kitchen.
May you like
Claire covered her face.
Family privacy was dead.
