Chapter 4 - The Last Christmas Dinner at the DeLuca Mansion
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I folded the letter and placed it inside my jacket.
Then I walked back into the dining room with Renee in my arms.
The Christmas music was still playing.
My sister Paula sat on a velvet sofa while her daughters opened another collection of expensive gifts.
Sophie had a new tablet.
Emma had a diamond-studded bracelet.
Their wrapping paper covered the carpet.
Near the fireplace stood three enormous stockings embroidered with their names.
Sophie.
Emma.
And a smaller one bearing Paula's youngest child's name.
There was no stocking for Renee.
I stopped.
“Where are my daughter's presents?”
The room went quiet.
Paula looked up.
“Michael, don't start.”
I stared at her.
“Where are they?”
She sighed.
“Mom said you were handling Renee's gifts separately.”
I turned toward Carmen.
My mother had followed me into the room.
“That's right,” she said quickly. “You buy that child everything she wants.”
Renee pressed her face against my shoulder.
I felt her small fingers tighten around my collar.
“Put your coats on,” I told the household staff nearby. “We're leaving.”
Carmen frowned.
“You're going to ruin Christmas over a few dishes?”
I turned toward her.
“Those dishes were never the issue.”
Antonio entered behind us.
“This is my house, Michael. You will not speak to your mother that way.”
I looked at the man who had taught me that the DeLuca name meant loyalty.
“You want respect from me?”
He lifted his chin.
“Of course.”
“Then understand something. Renee is my daughter. If you insult her, you insult me.”
He laughed coldly.
“She's not our blood.”
I felt Renee flinch.
So I lowered my voice.
“Then perhaps blood doesn't mean what you think it means.”
Paula stood.
“Michael, please. You're frightening the children.”
I looked toward her daughters.
Sophie had stopped opening her gifts.
Emma was watching Renee with an expression I couldn't identify.
I softened my voice.
“Girls, none of this is your fault.”
Then I turned back toward my family.
“But it is the responsibility of every adult in this room.”
Carmen stepped closer.
“You're choosing an outsider over your own parents.”
I stared at her.
“I'm choosing my child.”
For the first time, nobody answered.
I carried Renee to the front entrance.
My driver, Gabriel, immediately opened the door.
Outside, snow drifted beneath the porch lights.
Renee looked at the enormous Christmas tree through the window.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can we still have Christmas?”
My throat tightened.
“We're going to have the best Christmas we can.”
She rested her head against my shoulder.
“Can Button come?”
I almost smiled.
“Button is coming too.”
As Gabriel closed the car door, my phone rang.
Charlotte Mercer.
The attorney whose letter had terrified my parents.
I answered.
“Mr. DeLuca?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was serious.
“I'm glad I reached you. Have you opened the envelope?”
“Yes.”
“Then please listen carefully.”
I looked at Renee, who had fallen asleep against my chest.
Charlotte continued.
“Someone has already contacted the court with a request involving your daughter's adoption records.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What kind of request?”
“A petition challenging certain facts presented during the original proceedings.”
I stared through the windshield.
“Who filed it?”
Charlotte hesitated.
May you like
Then said:
“The attorney representing the petitioner has longstanding ties to your parents.”
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