Chapter 8 - The Night the Story Broke
Luca’s attorneys filed suit against Anton Bell, the Moretti family office, and unnamed participants for interception of communications, identity fraud, and conspiracy. Anton responded by formally cooperating. Dr. Keane’s attorney suddenly requested a meeting. Celeste released a statement calling her son emotionally compromised. The press became feral.
Then everything got worse.
A photographer followed Theo and Lily’s school bus.
That ended my patience.
I called Luca.
“I want them out of school for a week.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m taking them to my sister’s in Wisconsin.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Nia.”
“You are the reason cameras follow us.”
“I know.”
“That does not mean I blame you.”
“It sounded very much like blame.”
“I blame your mother. I blame tabloids. I blame myself for not preparing better. But I need three days where my children are not Moretti heirs.”
His voice softened.
“Okay.”
I waited.
“That’s it?”
“You asked me not to come.”
“I expected resistance.”
“I am evolving.”
“Disturbing.”
I took the twins to Madison. My sister Jana lived in a modest house with a trampoline, two dogs and absolutely no billionaires. Theo and Lily relaxed almost immediately. By the second morning, Theo stopped asking why strangers took pictures. Lily drew a family picture that included Luca for the first time.
I stared at it longer than necessary.
He stood on one side of Theo.
I stood on the other side of Lily.
There was no touching.
Children notice more than adults think.
My phone rang.
Evelyn.
“I found something.”
“You people should consider a family slogan.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She emailed a scanned memo from her father’s archives. It was dated six years earlier, three months before my divorce.
Dr. Keane’s final patient communication should emphasize low probability of successful conception within current marriage. C.M. believes this will facilitate resolution.
I read it twice.
“Current marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Who wrote this?”
“My father’s general counsel.”
“Why would Shaw Capital counsel have anything to do with my medical treatment?”
“Because my father and Celeste were already planning the merger.”
My stomach turned.
“This wasn’t just her.”
“No.”
“You knew that.”
“I suspected. Now I know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Turn it over.”
“To Luca?”
“To prosecutors if necessary.”
“Evelyn, that could implicate your father.”
“I know.”
“You’re willing to do that?”
She was silent for a moment.
“When I married Luca, my father told me I was securing our family’s future. I believed sacrifice made me loyal. I don’t anymore.”
I understood.
That night, Theo had a nightmare. He woke screaming that men with cameras were outside the house. I climbed into bed beside him. Lily came in ten minutes later. We slept in a tangled pile until morning.
I called Luca at six.
He answered immediately.
“Something happened?”
“Theo had a nightmare.”
Silence.
“Can I speak to him?”
“He’s asleep now.”
“Was it about the photographers?”
“Yes.”
Luca swore softly.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Turn guilt into rage. It doesn’t help him.”
“I don’t know what helps him.”
“Neither do I sometimes.”
That quieted him.
“I missed this part too,” he whispered.
“What part?”
“The helpless part.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
“I thought fatherhood would feel like getting something back.”
“And?”
“It mostly feels like discovering how much I can’t control.”
I smiled sadly.
“Welcome.”
We talked for almost an hour.
Not about Celeste.
Not about lawyers.
About the twins.
Theo had started lying about brushing his teeth. Lily hated socks with seams. Both children slept with hallway lights on after thunderstorms. Theo secretly loved ballet because Lily practiced in the living room, but he would deny it under oath.
Luca laughed.
Then asked, “What were they like as babies?”
My throat tightened.
“You really want to know?”
“All of it.”
So I told him.
Theo screamed every evening from six to eight for no identifiable reason.
Lily slept only if held against my chest.
They both hated the expensive stroller my mother bought and loved a twenty-dollar carrier from Target.
Theo said “Mama” second because “truck” came first.
Lily’s first full sentence was “Theo did it.”
Luca laughed until his voice broke.
Then he went quiet.
“I should have been there.”
“Yes.”
“I would have been.”
“I believe that now.”
The silence between us changed.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“Believing me.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
The next afternoon, Chicago news broke the clinic scandal.
Not our names initially.
A reporter had learned that an influential donor pressured a fertility specialist to alter patient summaries.
By evening, everyone knew.
MORETTI FAMILY LINKED TO ALLEGED FERTILITY CLINIC INTERFERENCE.
Then Dr. Keane issued a statement through counsel.
He admitted my clinical summary had been “improperly influenced by donor pressure.”
I sat in Jana’s kitchen and began shaking.
Six years of shame collapsed in one paragraph.
I was not infertile.
I had never been infertile.
My marriage had not failed because my body failed.
I called Luca.
He answered without speaking.
“You saw?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t the problem.”
“No.”
“I spent years thinking—”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice cracked.
“I apologized to you.”
“I remember.”
“I apologized for being defective.”
“Nia, stop.”
“I was pregnant when I thought I couldn’t get pregnant.”
“I know.”
“I hated myself.”
He was crying now.
I could hear it.
“I know.”
Then Luca said something I did not expect.
“It was me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The original records. Keane gave my attorney the full file.”
My pulse thudded.
“What are you saying?”
“My sperm count during our marriage was significantly below normal.”
I stopped breathing.
“He told us your numbers were the main issue.”
“I know.”
“Luca…”
“My mother didn’t only exaggerate your results.”
May you like
His voice broke.
“She had them minimize mine.”
