Chapter 4 - Because You Abandoned My Daughter
I didn’t confront Luca about Sabrina.
That surprised Dad.
“You’re not curious?”
“Desperately.”
“Then why wait?”
“Because people lie better when they know the question.”
Dad smiled.
“Your mother really did create you.”
For the next week, I lived between two worlds.
One smelled like baby lotion and warm blankets.
The other smelled like printer ink and deception.
Leo woke every two hours.
I fed him.
Changed him.
Rocked him.
Then, whenever he slept, I worked.
Not obsessively.
Methodically.
I built a timeline.
Luca had approved six separate Kessler Development contracts involving companies connected indirectly to Romano Consulting.
Three companies shared the same accountant.
Two used the same registered agent.
One shared an IP address on archived filings.
It looked less like a legitimate vendor network and more like nesting dolls.
The deeper I went, the more companies appeared.
Dad watched me one afternoon.
“You should be sleeping.”
“I slept forty minutes.”
“That isn’t sleep.”
“It counts with a newborn.”
My phone rang.
Luca.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was softer than before.
“Can we talk?”
“We are.”
“In person.”
“What about?”
“My son.”
I looked toward Leo sleeping nearby.
“What specifically?”
“I want to see him.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Without lawyers?”
“No.”
“Jessi.”
“This isn’t punishment.”
“It feels like punishment.”
“That’s not my responsibility.”
Silence.
Then:
“Is Sterling there?”
“My father has a name.”
“Is Arthur there?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
I almost responded.
Then he said:
“Mom thinks he’s manipulating you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Wendy thinks a lot of things.”
“She wants to apologize.”
That got my attention.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“Interesting.”
“Can she come?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not ready.”
“She’s Leo’s grandmother.”
“And I’m Leo’s mother.”
His voice sharpened.
“You can’t control everyone forever.”
The irony almost impressed me.
“I’ll have my attorney send proposed visitation times.”
“Forget it.”
He hung up.
Dad glanced over.
“Productive?”
“Extremely.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“He reminded me why I hired a lawyer.”
The first visitation occurred four days later at a family services office.
Neutral location.
Two hours.
Luca arrived twenty minutes late.
But when he saw Leo, something changed.
His arrogance disappeared.
He stood beside the bassinet and simply stared.
“He’s smaller than I thought.”
I didn’t answer.
Luca held out one finger.
Leo wrapped his hand around it.
Luca’s face crumpled.
For one dangerous second, I remembered the man I had loved.
The man who used to make coffee before I woke.
The man who once drove four hours because I mentioned missing my mother’s favorite pie.
People are rarely monsters all the time.
That’s what makes leaving complicated.
Luca whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
My heart tightened.
“For what?”
He looked up.
“All of it.”
I waited.
“I should’ve been there.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were overreacting.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
His eyes lowered.
“Mom kept saying if I left, I’d ruin her birthday.”
“And you believed that mattered more?”
He didn’t answer.
I did.
“You made a choice.”
“I made the wrong one.”
For the first time, he sounded sincere.
And because sincerity is dangerous when you’re wounded, I reminded myself of the financial records.
“Sabrina Vale.”
His entire body went still.
There.
No confusion.
Recognition.
“What about her?”
“You know her.”
“She planned Mom’s party.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Lie.
I could hear it.
Not because of some magical ability.
Because honest people usually ask why you’re asking.
Luca went defensive immediately.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Turning every conversation into an interrogation.”
“Then answer.”
“I did.”
I held his gaze.
“Romano Consulting paid Sabrina eighteen thousand five hundred dollars labeled ‘housing.’”
His face changed.
“Why are you looking through Mom’s business?”
“Because her company received money from our home equity line.”
His jaw tightened.
“That money was mine too.”
“My signature was forged.”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“Then who did?”
He looked away.
That was when the door opened.
Wendy walked in.
Uninvited.
She wore a cream suit and pearls.
The same outfit she had worn to her birthday dinner.
“Enough.”
I stared.
“How did you get in here?”
“Luca told me where he was.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Mom—”
She ignored him.
“You have made our family miserable for two weeks.”
“Our family?”
“Yes.”
“You mean yours.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You lied about who you are.”
“So did you.”
“What?”
“You said Romano Consulting advises restaurants.”
“It does.”
“Which ones?”
Silence.
I continued.
“Kessler Development paid your company more than six hundred thousand dollars.”
Her face went pale.
Luca stood.
“Jessi.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s confidential.”
“So it’s true.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just did.”
She recovered quickly.
“You’re spying on us.”
“No.”
I smiled slightly.
“I’m reading records.”
The most powerful thing about facts is that they don’t care who feels insulted by them.
Wendy stepped closer.
“You think because your father has money, you can destroy Luca?”
“No.”
I looked at my husband.
“He’s doing fine by himself.”
She turned toward Leo.
“I want to hold my grandson.”
“No.”
Her head snapped toward me.
“Excuse me?”
“You weren’t invited.”
“I am his grandmother.”
“You mocked me while I was in labor.”
“That was a joke.”
“I didn’t laugh.”
Her expression hardened.
“You are going to regret turning Leo against his family.”
“He’s two weeks old.”
Dad’s voice came from behind us.
None of us had heard him enter.
Wendy looked toward him.
Arthur Sterling stood near the doorway.
No suit.
No entourage.
Just a grandfather carrying a diaper bag.
But Wendy’s confidence disappeared.
Dad walked toward her.
“Mrs. Romano.”
“Mr. Sterling.”
“You told my daughter women have been giving birth for thousands of years.”
Wendy swallowed.
“I was trying to lighten the mood.”
“You laughed while she was frightened.”
“I didn’t understand—”
“No.”
Dad stopped.
“You understood perfectly.”
The room went silent.
“You simply believed she had nobody powerful enough to make your behavior matter.”
Wendy’s face reddened.
“That’s unfair.”
Dad glanced at Leo.
Then back at her.
“My daughter spent years believing independence meant refusing my help.”
His voice softened.
“That was partly my failure.”
Then it hardened again.
“But your son’s mistake was believing her lack of protection meant lack of value.”
Luca looked down.
Wendy said nothing.
Dad turned to me.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
We left.
That evening, my attorney called.
“We got something strange.”
“What?”
“Luca filed a financial disclosure.”
“And?”
“He listed Romano Consulting as owing him $310,000.”
I sat upright.
“Loan receivable?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
I opened my spreadsheet.
If Luca had personally loaned Wendy more than three hundred thousand dollars, the funds had to come from somewhere.
His salary couldn’t support it.
Our accounts didn’t support it.
Unless—
I pulled up the Kessler vendor payments again.
Then froze.
Dad noticed.
“What?”
I whispered:
“The money isn’t going from Luca to Wendy.”
I pointed at the screen.
“It’s going through Wendy to Luca.”
And suddenly, the entire structure looked different.
Romano Consulting wasn’t Wendy’s business.
May you like
It might be Luca’s hiding place.
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