Chapter 15 - Caleb's Last Bargain
“What does Caleb have to do with your children?”
Delia was furious.
Anton looked equally confused.
“Legally? Nothing.”
“Then how did he file anything?”
“He didn't file for custody.”
“What did he file?”
“A statement.”
“On whose behalf?”
Anton read the page.
“Concerned third party.”
Delia laughed.
“That's ridiculous.”
“It is.”
“Will a judge care?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably?”
Anton called his attorney.
Eleanor arrived within an hour.
She read the filing.
“This is theater.”
Delia paced.
“Can theater damage me?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“But the petition lacks standing.”
“English.”
“Caleb cannot tell a court how Anton raises his children simply because he used to date you.”
“Then why do it?”
Eleanor flipped pages.
“Attention.”
Anton looked grim.
“Or payment.”
Delia stopped.
“Again?”
Donovan confirmed it that afternoon.
Caleb had accepted money from a media company for an exclusive interview.
The petition made his story seem more legitimate.
Delia sat in the empty diner after closing.
Frank placed coffee beside her.
“You want me to ban him forever?”
“Yes.”
“Done.”
“He wasn't coming back.”
“Still feels good.”
Delia smiled weakly.
The next morning Caleb appeared outside her apartment.
She almost called Anton.
Then stopped.
No.
This was hers.
She remained behind the locked building entrance.
“What do you want?”
Caleb looked awful.
“I made a mistake.”
“You'll need to narrow it down.”
“I shouldn't have spoken to reporters.”
“No.”
“They offered money.”
“Apparently your defining weakness.”
He looked ashamed.
“I deserve that.”
“Stop saying that like agreeing with me counts as accountability.”
Caleb flinched.
Delia crossed her arms.
“Why did you file the statement?”
“The producer said it would make the interview more valuable.”
“Do you understand you're using my dead child for money?”
His face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Delia's voice broke.
“Samuel was yours too.”
Caleb looked down.
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't get to know now.”
He started crying.
Delia felt nothing.
That surprised her.
For years she imagined this conversation.
She thought she would scream.
Hit him.
Beg him to explain.
Instead she felt finished.
Caleb whispered, “I was twenty-nine and terrified.”
“So was I.”
“I thought I couldn't do it.”
“Neither did I.”
“I took the money because it gave me an excuse.”
Delia nodded.
There it was.
Truth.
Not mind control.
Not Vittorio forcing him.
An excuse.
“You wanted to leave.”
“Yes.”
“And someone paid you for something you already wanted.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
He looked confused.
“For what?”
“For finally telling me the truth.”
Delia opened the building door but didn't step out.
“Withdraw the statement.”
“I already did.”
“Return the interview money.”
“I spent some.”
“Then repay it.”
“I will.”
“Publicly correct every lie.”
“Yes.”
“And after that?”
Caleb waited.
“Never contact me again.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Delia looked at him one final time.
“I hope you become better than the man you were with me.”
Caleb started crying harder.
She closed the door.
No hug.
No absolution.
No dramatic reunion.
Just closure.
That afternoon she found Anton waiting beside his car.
“You knew he was here?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't interfere?”
“You told security to stay back.”
Delia looked around.
“Security?”
Anton pointed subtly.
A man sat at a café across the street.
Delia groaned.
“I hate you.”
“You're welcome.”
She walked closer.
“It's over.”
“With Caleb?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
“Hungry.”
Anton smiled.
“That's progress.”
They ate lunch.
At the house, the children were playing with photograph cards their therapist recommended.
Anton had begun creating a family book.
First page:
Papa.
Photo of Anton.
Second:
Mama Isabella.
Photo of Isabella laughing.
Third:
Grandma Celeste.
Fourth:
Erin.
Fifth:
Dee.
Delia stopped.
Her photograph showed her in the diner holding three spoons while the babies laughed.
“You added me.”
Anton stood beside her.
“You're part of their life.”
She touched the page.
Not Mama.
Not replacement.
Dee.
Her own name.
Her own place.
Lucia crawled over.
“Mama?”
She pointed to Isabella.
Anton sat beside her.
“Yes. Mama Isabella.”
Lucia touched the photograph.
“Mama.”
Then she pointed to Delia.
“Mama Dee.”
Delia's eyes filled.
Anton looked at her.
“You don't have to correct it every time.”
“What if I want to?”
“Then we will.”
Delia looked at Lucia.
“That's Mama Isabella.”
“Mama.”
“And I'm Dee.”
Lucia frowned.
“Dee.”
“Yes.”
Lucia wrapped both arms around Delia's neck.
“Love Dee.”
Delia broke.
She held the little girl tightly.
“I love you too.”
Anton looked away.
Giving her privacy while staying close.
Later, when the children slept, Delia found Anton in Isabella's old study.
He was holding their wedding photograph.
“Bad day?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you in here?”
“I wanted to tell her something.”
Delia stopped.
“That sounds private.”
“It is.”
She moved toward the door.
“Stay.”
Anton put the photograph down.
“I told her I'm falling in love with you.”
Delia forgot how to breathe.
Anton looked embarrassed.
It was endearing.
“You told your deceased wife?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She remained surprisingly quiet.”
Delia laughed despite tears.
Anton became serious.
“I need you to know this has nothing to do with the children needing you.”
Her smile faded.
“They do need consistency.”
“Yes.”
“But that's separate.”
“Yes.”
“And Isabella?”
“Separate.”
“And the diary?”
“Separate.”
“You're sure?”
“I've spent months asking myself.”
Delia looked at him.
“And?”
“I love the way you challenge me.”
He stepped closer.
“I love that you never let me purchase solutions to emotional problems.”
Another step.
“I love that you're kind without being soft-headed.”
Delia smiled through tears.
“That was almost romantic.”
“I practiced.”
“I can tell.”
“I love how you say Samuel's name now.”
Her breath caught.
“And I love that you never ask me to stop saying Isabella's.”
That one reached her.
Anton did not touch her.
“I love you, Delia.”
Silence.
She wanted to say it.
The words were there.
But fear stood beside them.
“I can't.”
Anton nodded.
Her eyes widened.
“That's it?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Argue?”
“Would that change your answer?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
Delia almost cried harder.
“Why are you being reasonable?”
“I've had good influence.”
She laughed.
He smiled sadly.
“Take whatever time you need.”
Delia kissed his cheek.
Then left.
Anton remained alone.
An hour later Delia sat in her car outside Bayou Grace, unable to drive.
She loved him.
That was the terrifying truth.
She loved the children.
She loved Anton.
But she needed to know she could stay Delia inside the Marchetti world.
Not employee.
Not replacement.
Not rescue story.
Delia.
Her phone buzzed.
A text from Anton.
No pressure.
No request.
Just a photograph.
Matteo, Nico and Lucia asleep in a tangled pile.
Caption:
Nico called me Dog again. I blame you.
Delia laughed through tears.
Then another message arrived.
From Eleanor.
We found the original guardianship draft Isabella prepared. There is a clause Anton needs to see. It may change how the family estate operates permanently.
Delia stared.
May you like
Even from the grave, Isabella was not finished protecting her children.
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