Chapter 7 - The Papers That Called Me an Unfit Mother|
I had always imagined that if someone tried to take my daughter, I would scream.
I didn't.
I stood in Francesca's bedroom staring at my husband, unable to make a sound.
An unfit mother.
Those three words repeated inside my head.
I was the woman who knew how Isabella liked her pancakes.
I was the woman who slept on her bedroom floor during thunderstorms because she'd been afraid of lightning.
I was the woman who had spent six weeks teaching her to tie her shoes, even when Luca insisted it would be faster to buy ones with Velcro.
And somewhere in Chicago, a stranger had signed papers claiming I wasn't capable of caring for her.
"Let me see them," I said.
Luca looked at his phone.
"Emma—"
"Show me."
He opened the documents Daniel had forwarded.
I read the first page.
Then the second.
By the third, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the screen.
The petition contained statements claiming I suffered from emotional instability, unpredictable outbursts, and an unhealthy attachment to Isabella.
It alleged that I'd refused to allow my daughter to attend school without me.
That I'd threatened household employees.
That I'd repeatedly interfered with Luca's security arrangements.
All lies.
Then I reached the last page.
There was a supporting declaration.
Signed by Vanessa Bellini.
And beneath it was something worse.
Leonardo Moretti — Acknowledgment of Concerns.
Luca's name.
His signature.
I slowly raised my eyes.
"You signed this?"
His face drained of color.
"Emma, I didn't know what she was using it for."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Vanessa told me the attorney needed a statement about your anxiety after the threats began."
I could barely breathe.
"You signed a document saying I was unstable?"
"No. I signed a page acknowledging that you'd been under stress."
"And you didn't read the rest?"
He said nothing.
I stared at him.
My husband negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts.
He could detect a forged signature from across a boardroom.
He trusted almost nobody.
Yet somehow, he had signed a document concerning my fitness as a mother because his mistress told him it was necessary.
The cruelty of it was almost unbelievable.
"Seven years," I whispered.
Luca stepped forward.
"Emma, I can explain."
"Seven years of marriage, and you didn't think I deserved to know what you were signing."
He looked desperate.
"I never intended for anyone to take Isabella from you."
"But you gave them the paperwork to try."
Silence.
Francesca looked at her grandson with an expression of such profound disappointment that he turned away.
Then she spoke.
"You will fix this."
Luca nodded immediately.
"Of course."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"You will not send one of your men to frighten an attorney. You will not make phone calls that disappear from the records."
Luca looked at her.
"Nonna—"
"You will fix this legally, publicly, and completely."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
I looked at the documents again.
The final page contained a proposed temporary parenting arrangement.
Isabella would travel to Geneva under Luca's supervision.
Vanessa Bellini was listed as an authorized caregiver.
I almost dropped the phone.
"She put herself down as Isabella's caregiver."
Luca nodded grimly.
"I see that."
"And you were going to let her go."
His expression tightened.
"No."
I stared at him.
"Don't lie to me anymore."
He swallowed.
"I was going to send Isabella to a house Vanessa had arranged. I believed security staff and a licensed caregiver would be there. I didn't understand what she had filed."
I handed the phone back.
"Then you understood enough."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Luca asked.
"To my daughter."
"Emma, wait."
I turned.
"What?"
He looked at me.
There was panic in his eyes.
For one foolish second, my heart wanted to comfort him.
Seven years of loving someone doesn't disappear in one night.
But I remembered the silver suitcase.
The red dress.
The empty plate in my hands.
And I stayed where I was.
"I'll call our attorney," he said.
I shook my head.
"Your attorney."
He frowned.
"What?"
"I want my own."
Luca went still.
I continued.
"I want someone whose first responsibility is to me. Not the Moretti family. Not your companies. Not your reputation."
He nodded slowly.
"All right."
"And I want every document you've signed about Isabella."
"Of course."
"And I want to know whether Vanessa has access to her passport."
His expression changed.
He reached for his phone.
While he made the call, I went downstairs.
Isabella was awake.
She sat beside Francesca's empty chair, hugging Mr. Buttons.
When she saw me, she smiled.
"Mommy!"
I knelt and opened my arms.
She ran into them.
I held her so tightly she began laughing.
"Mommy, you're squishing me."
I loosened my embrace.
"Sorry, baby."
She looked at my face.
"Why are you crying?"
I brushed away a tear.
"Because I love you."
She smiled.
"I love you more."
"Impossible."
"Infinity more."
I kissed her forehead.
Behind us, Luca entered the room.
His expression was grim.
"Emma."
I looked up.
He held his phone in one hand.
"Isabella's passport isn't in the safe."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"Vanessa has it."
I pulled my daughter closer.
Luca swallowed.
"And there's something else."
I waited.
He looked toward Isabella.
Then back at me.
"Someone scheduled a private flight for six o'clock tomorrow morning."
My heart hammered.
"To Switzerland?"
He shook his head.
"No."
His voice became cold.
"The flight plan says Palermo."
Italy.
Vanessa wasn't planning to take our daughter somewhere safe.
May you like
She was planning to take her somewhere the Bellini family's old connections could hide her.
And in that moment, I realized our marriage wasn't the only thing I was fighting to save.
