8. Maria
— · —
Maria
I know I shouldn’t be here.
Luca’s note is still crumpled in my pocket - Don’t leave the apartment. Don’t answer the door. I’ll be back before the meeting.
But Victor’s text is burning a hole in my phone, and I’m done letting Morettis dictate when and where I’m allowed to exist.
The family restaurant is closed for a “private event” - which apparently means Victor Moretti sitting alone in his corner booth like a spider waiting for a fly. The same booth where he’s held court for forty years. The same booth where he probably planned my divorce over espresso and biscotti.
I push through the door.
He doesn’t stand when he sees me. Doesn’t offer a handshake or a greeting. Just watches me cross the empty restaurant with those cold, calculating eyes.
“Maria.” His voice is silk over steel. “Thank you for coming. Please - sit.”
I slide into the booth across from him. Keep my back to the wall. Note the exits - front door, kitchen, the hallway that leads to the back alley.
Old habits. Or maybe new ones.
“I assume you know why I asked you here,” Victor says.
“You want me to drop the divorce case. Take a settlement. Disappear quietly.”
“I want what’s best for everyone.” He sips his espresso like we’re having a pleasant chat about the weather. “Including you. Including that baby.”
My hand twitches toward my stomach before I can stop it.
He knows. He definitely knows.
“What are you offering?”
Victor slides a folder across the table. Thick. Official. The Moretti family crest embossed on the cover like this is some kind of royal decree.
“Two million euros. The house. A reasonable custody arrangement - shared, of course. No public scandal. No drawn-out court battle.” He pauses. “You walk away with your dignity intact.”
I open the folder. Force myself to read slowly. Carefully.
Two million. The house. And buried in the fine print - there it is. An NDA. A gag order. A clause requiring me to never speak publicly about the Morettis or their business practices.
And one more thing: a requirement that I “terminate any professional relationship with Luca Moretti or any associate of his firm.”
“You want me to fire Luca.”
“I want you to be smart.” Victor leans forward.
“You’re pregnant with my grandchild, Maria.
That means something to me, whatever you might think.
That child will be the only Moretti born inside a marriage, the only heir I can put in front of a camera without the word bastard trailing after it.
The others are a mess I’ll have to bury.
Yours, I can use. I’m offering you security. Support. A future.”
“And in exchange, I pretend your son didn’t cheat on me for eight months.”
“In exchange, you stop digging into things that don’t concern you.” His voice hardens. Just slightly. Just enough. “The financial records. The offshore accounts. The questions you’ve been asking about how this family operates.”
He’s scared. Under all that polish, he’s actually scared of what we might find.
“And if I don’t take this very generous offer?”
Victor’s smile fades.
“Then I take everything. Including that baby.”
***
The words hang in the air between us.
Including that baby.
I should be terrified. I should be backing down, signing the papers, taking the money and running.
But something strange is happening inside me. Something that feels almost like... calm.
Because I’ve spent five years being afraid of Victor Moretti. Five years watching Tommy flinch when his father raised his voice. Five years learning to make myself small and quiet and unthreatening.
And where did it get me?
Here. Alone. Pregnant. Fighting for scraps from a family that never wanted me in the first place.
Fuck that.
“Let me make sure I understand,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You’re threatening to take my baby, a baby I’m currently carrying in my body, because I won’t sign an NDA to cover up your son’s affair?”
“I’m stating facts. Courts favor fathers who can provide stable environments. And a mother who throws wine in people’s faces, who’s sleeping with her brother-in-law, who’s clearly emotionally unstable-”
“I threw wine at the woman who was fucking my husband for eight months. I think most judges would call that ‘understandable.’”
“Most judges can be persuaded to see things differently.” Victor’s smile is cold. “Especially when the father’s family has resources. Connections. Influence.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s information. Use it however you like.”
I close the folder. Push it back across the table.
“No.”
Victor blinks. “Excuse me?”
“No. I’m not signing your NDA. I’m not dropping the case. And I’m not pretending your son didn’t destroy our marriage.” I stand up. “Find another patsy, Victor. I’m done being one.”
“Sit down.” His voice is sharp. Commanding. The voice of a man who’s not used to hearing the word “no.”
“Or what? You’ll take my baby? You’ll destroy me?” I laugh. It sounds almost genuine. “You’ve already tried. Your son humiliated me in front of everyone. Your mother blamed me for his affair. And I’m still standing.”
I pick up my purse.
“I’m done being a good Moretti wife. I’m done being quiet. And I’m done being afraid of you.”
I turn toward the door.
And that’s when the trap springs.
***
The restaurant door bangs open.
Tommy storms in, face red, eyes wild. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days - stubble on his jaw, shirt wrinkled, that manic energy that always scared me when we were married.
“Is it true?” He’s staring at me. Not at Victor. At me. “You’re pregnant?”
Oh, God.
I look at Victor. He’s leaning back in his booth, espresso in hand, watching the scene unfold with undisguised satisfaction.
This was the plan. The whole time. Get me here so Tommy could find out.
“Yes.” I force myself to stay calm. “I’m pregnant. I found out the same day you handed me divorce papers.”
Tommy’s face does something complicated. Shock first - genuine shock, which means Victor didn’t tell him beforehand. Then anger. And then something else, something that makes my skin crawl.
Possessiveness.
“That’s my baby.”
“That’s MY baby. You gave up any claim to my body when you spent eight months cheating on me.”
“You can’t-” He steps closer. Too close. “You can’t keep this from me. That’s my child. My heir. You don’t get to just-”
“I didn’t keep it from you. I just didn’t tell you yet.” My voice is ice. “Big difference.”
“When were you going to tell me? After you’d already poisoned the kid against me? After you’d turned them into another one of Luca’s weapons?”
“Don’t bring Luca into this.”
“Luca’s been in this since the beginning!” Tommy’s voice is rising. People outside are starting to stare through the windows. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? You think I don’t know you’ve been staying at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed?”
“What I do and where I sleep is none of your business anymore. You made sure of that when you filed for divorce.”
“You’re still my wife-”
“I’m your EX-wife. Or I will be, as soon as the courts process the papers YOU filed.”
Tommy’s hand shoots out. Grabs my arm.
Hard.
“Let go of me.”
“You’re not leaving. Not until we-”
“She said let go.”
***
Luca is standing in the doorway.
I don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know how he found me. But the relief that floods through me is so intense I almost cry.
He looks... terrifying.
Not angry. Not upset. Terrifying. Every line of his body radiating barely controlled violence. His eyes are fixed on Tommy’s hand, the one wrapped around my arm, and there’s something in his expression that makes even Victor shift in his seat.
“Take your hand off her,” Luca says. His voice is calm. Almost conversational. “Now.”
Tommy’s grip tightens. “This is none of your business.”
“She’s carrying a child. You’re hurting her.” Luca steps closer. “That makes it my business.”
“She’s carrying MY child-”
“And you’re leaving bruises on her arm. Let. Go.”
For a long moment, nobody moves.
Then Tommy releases me. Steps back. His face is twisted with something between rage and humiliation.
“This is what you want?” He gestures between me and Luca. “Him? The family disgrace? The traitor?”
“He’s never lied to me.” I move toward Luca. “That’s more than I can say for you.”
“He’s using you. Can’t you see that? He doesn’t care about you - he just wants to destroy me. Destroy Dad. Destroy everything we’ve built.”
“Maybe everything you’ve built deserves to be destroyed.”
I take Luca’s hand.
Victor’s voice cuts through the tension. “Maria. Think very carefully about what you’re doing. Aligning yourself with him... that’s a choice you can’t take back.”
I look at Victor. At Tommy. At the restaurant where I spent five years trying to belong to a family that never wanted me.
“Good,” I say. “I don’t want to take it back.”
Luca and I walk out together.
***
Luca
We make it around the corner before I let myself react.
“Are you okay?” I’m checking her arm where Tommy grabbed her. There are red marks. They’re going to bruise. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine. I’m-” She’s shaking. Adrenaline crash. “How did you know where I was?”
“I came back to the apartment and you were gone. Found Victor’s text on your phone.” I should be angry. I should be furious that she went without me, that she walked into an obvious trap. But all I can feel is relief that I got there in time. “I told you not to go alone.”
“I know. I know, I’m sorry, I just-” She laughs. It’s slightly hysterical. “I’m so tired of them controlling me. Where I go. What I do. Who I’m allowed to see. I needed to face him myself.”
“And?”
“And I told him to go fuck himself.” She grins. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Well, not in those exact words. But close enough.”
I should lecture her. Should tell her how dangerous that was, how Victor doesn’t make threats he can’t follow through on, how Tommy looked ready to-
But she’s looking at me with those dark eyes, flushed with victory and adrenaline, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her.
She’s running on adrenaline and nowhere left to fall. The last thing she needs is to become one more thing a Moretti took because he wanted it.
But I’ve been having terrible ideas about Maria Benedetti since the moment I saw her walk into that party in her red dress.
“Maria-”
She doesn’t let me finish.
She’s kissing me.
***
Her mouth is warm and desperate against mine. She tastes like coffee and courage and something sweet underneath.
I should stop this. Should pull back, remind her of all the reasons this is a catastrophically bad idea.
Instead, I pull her closer.
I back her against the brick wall of the alley, my hands in her hair, her hands fisting my shirt. She makes a sound - half gasp, half moan - and I swallow it, kiss her deeper, harder.
God, I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted her.
“Luca-” She pulls back just enough to breathe. “Don’t. Don’t tell me we shouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Don’t tell me it’s complicated.”
“It is complicated.”
“I know.” She pulls me back. Kisses me again. “I don’t care.”
Neither do I.
I kiss her until we’re both breathless. Until her back is pressed against the wall and her leg is hooked around my hip and I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life.
Not here. Not like this. She deserves better than an alley.
I force myself to pull back. Press my forehead against hers.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” I manage, “since the moment I saw you at that party.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you were my brother’s wife. Because you were hurting. Because I didn’t want to be another person who took something from you.” I cup her face. “I wanted you to choose. When you were ready.”
“I’m choosing.” Her eyes meet mine. Dark. Certain. “I’m choosing you.”
I kiss her again.
Softer this time.
A promise.
“Not all the way,” I murmur against her mouth. “Not yet. Not until you’re free.”
“But soon?”
“Soon.” My voice comes out rough. Wrecked. “God, yes. Soon.”
Her phone buzzes.
We break apart. She pulls it out, checks the screen.
All the color drains from her face.
“What is it?”
She shows me the message. From Renata.
“Emergency. Tommy’s lawyers just filed. Pre-birth custody petition. He’s claiming you’re unfit and unfaithful. Hearing in two weeks.”
***
The victory of five minutes ago turns to ash.
“He’s going after the baby.”
“He’s trying to scare you.” But even I can hear the fear in my own voice. “Pre-birth custody petitions are almost impossible to win. The courts-”
“The courts can be persuaded.” Maria’s voice is hollow. “Victor said that. He said judges can be persuaded to see things differently when the father’s family has resources.”
“Victor says a lot of things.”
“He’s not wrong, though. Is he?” She looks at me. “They have money. Connections. They have that video of me throwing wine at Giuliana. They have-” Her voice breaks. “They have a photo of us. In the garden. At Nonna’s party. Tommy’s cousin caught us kissing.”
Shit. I forgot about Marco. Forgot that little weasel was lurking around with his phone.
“The photo doesn’t matter. You were already separated when-”
“It matters to a judge. It matters to public opinion.” Maria presses her hand to her stomach. “Luca, what if they take my baby?”
“They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that I’m not going to let them.” I take her hands.
Hold them tight. “Listen to me. We have evidence of Tommy’s crimes.
We have Giuliana, who’s scared of something and might be willing to talk.
We have the truth - and the truth is that Tommy cheated for eight months, got three women pregnant, and is now trying to use custody as a weapon because he can’t stand that you moved on. ”
“Three women?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to tell her about Amanda yet.
“I’ll explain later. The point is - we’re going to fight this. And we’re going to win.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve been waiting five years for this. Because they think they’re untouchable. And because-” I pull her close. “Because I love you. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not Victor. Not Tommy. Not anyone.”
She goes still in my arms.
“You love me?”
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
“I-” I should take it back. Should say it’s too soon, too complicated, too everything. “Yes. I do. I think I have since-”
She kisses me.
This time, it feels like coming home.