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Chapter 3

作者: Bonnie
Lucian left me on Raven Street.

Four years ago, outside the church, he had taken my hand and said, "As long as I am breathing, you will never face danger alone."

I believed him then without question.

Now, amid cameras and chaos, he had taken Clara and left me behind.

I leaned against the wall until I could stand. By the time I returned, blood had seeped through my torn dress. Cold air slipped through the rip in the fabric, and every step hurt.

I sat in the dark living room and watched the Long Island sea through the windows.

Near midnight, the front door opened and Lucian came home. He saw the blood on my back. His face changed at once. "Evelyn, how did you get hurt?"

He crossed the room and snapped at the butler, "My wife is injured, and no one called me? Bring the medical kit. Call the doctor now."

I watched the tightness in his face and almost laughed. So he could still worry about me. He was just always too late.

"I called you," I said.

Lucian froze. "What?"

"Outside the clinic. I called you. Did you hear me?"

"It was too chaotic. I might not have heard." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry. I will handle the press, and we are done with Raven Street. Evelyn, let's stop fighting, all right?"

I looked at him for a long time. Then I nodded. "All right."

He seemed relieved, as if this would end like every other fight, with an apology from him and me leaning back into his arms.

But from that day on, I stopped arguing and asking questions.

I began packing the estate. My gowns went to auction. The wedding albums went into the fireplace. One by one, the things I had once treated as proof of love disappeared from the house.

Lucian was busy with Clara's debt scandal and noticed nothing.

A few days later, Valerie came to see me in a hurry. "Madam, there is a problem with your trust account."

She placed the statement in front of me. "A large sum was transferred out last week from the trust Mr. Moretti left you. The authorization came through Mr. DeLuca's office. The recipient was Clara Voss."

My fingers stiffened.

That trust was the last safety net my grandfather had left me. Before he died, he had written the terms himself. No matter whom I married, a Moretti daughter would never be left without a way out.

Lucian knew what that money meant to me.

How dared he?

I opened the statement. The expenses were listed: the clinic renovation balance, moving costs for the Voss family, the first year's security on the Bell Harbor townhouse, a private hotel suite, several luxury charges, and a few items so intimate they made my stomach twist.

That was my grandfather's money, and Lucian had used it to pave another woman's road and settle her family.

Maybe he did not love her. Maybe he only favored her.

Sometimes favoritism is worse than betrayal.

I closed the statement, my nails digging half-moons into my palm. "Sue her."

Valerie blinked. "Madam?"

"Recover all of it. Principal, interest, punitive damages. Not one cent less."

"What about Mr. DeLuca?"

"He signed the divorce papers. He just doesn't know it yet."

The next day, I went to Fifth Avenue to choose gifts for my father. He still refused to see me, but I wanted to bring something home. After I picked out antique cuff links and a handmade watch, Lucian called.

"Evelyn, you had your lawyer sue Clara and demand ten times the amount?"

"I'm taking back my own money. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that the moment your lawyer filed, debt collectors smashed up her clinic and splashed red paint on the door. Clara is missing, and her family is terrified. She saved my life. I can't let her be destroyed because of our fight."

"Our fight? Lucian, that money was from my grandfather. What right did you have to use it on her?"

"You wrecked her old clinic. I was making amends for you."

"With my money?"

His voice had cooled. "You were not this vicious before. You know what Clara did for me. You know I owe her."

"And me?" I asked. "What you owe me can be spent on her?"

Something inside me went quiet.

"Lucian, let's divorce."

After a long while, he asked, "Are you threatening me with divorce again?"

"It is not a threat. It is a notice."

That hit a nerve.

"Fine. If leaving me is so easy, take a few days to cool down. When you are ready to think straight, we will talk."

The call ended.

Minutes later, the sales associate returned with my black card, embarrassment tightening her smile. "I'm sorry, Mrs. DeLuca. This card has been frozen."

I handed over another.

Frozen.

A third, a fourth, all the same.

The associate's courtesy slowly turned into suspicion. "Madam, the items have already been wrapped. The total is four hundred and eighty thousand dollars. If you cannot pay, we will need to notify store security."
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  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 10

    I thought Lucian would leave after that night. He didn’t.For the next two weeks, he sent gifts every day. Jewelry, share transfers, paintings I had once admired but never bought, even the deed to the Long Island estate. I returned everything I could. What could not be returned went straight into the trash.Then Lucian started standing outside my studio instead.One afternoon, I came down and found him holding a bouquet of red roses. The wind was sharp off the harbor, and his face was whiter than the sky."Evelyn," he said, stepping forward and held out the flowers. His fingers trembled slightly. "If you won't forgive me, then let me court you again. From the beginning. Let me earn one day at a time."Years ago, he had stood in the rose conservatory just like that, with red roses in his arms and a future on his tongue. Back then, I thought we would have forever.I took the bouquet then dropped the roses into the street bin beside me."The last forever you promised lasted four years. Ho

  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 9

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  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 8

    It rained through November in St. Clair Harbor.When I came home, the sea was gray and hard, and a Moretti car waited at the private terminal. My father did not come himself. He sent a driver to take me to the apartment downtown.That was the most dignity he was willing to give me.Vito Moretti was still angry, and he had every right to be. When I left with Lucian, he had smashed half the study and told me a Moretti woman could love a man, but she did not throw herself onto a losing table for a DeLuca with a price on his head.I had not listened.On the day I walked away, my father stood on the front steps of the estate and looked at me as if he no longer had a daughter. For four years, I sent gifts back on holidays. Every single one was returned untouched.His message was always the same: [You chose DeLuca. Don't use Moretti as a door when that house burns down.]Now the house had burned, and I had come back with smoke in my lungs.For two days, I stayed in the apartment and tried to

  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 7

    By the time Lucian reached the Bellini estate, rain had soaked through his coat.Alberto Bellini sat in his study with half a glass of whiskey in front of him. The old man had promised my father years ago that he would keep an eye on me while I lived in New York. When Lucian entered, Alberto did not rise."You've got some nerve showing your face here."Lucian stopped in the doorway. "Mr. Bellini, I need to know why you're ending the contract.""You need to know? God help you, boy. You really don't.""When the Commission cut your family loose, everyone in this city was waiting to see the DeLucas buried. Do you know who came to me, again and again, asking me to give you one way back into the harbor business?"Lucian's expression changed."It was Evelyn," Alberto said. "Not your lieutenants. Not your lawyers. Your wife.""She...""You thought you climbed back because you were ruthless and clever? You were. I'll give you that. But New York is crawling with ruthless, clever men. Without Eve

  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 6

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  • Before She Became Moretti Again   Chapter 5

    When my plane lifted through the clouds, New York shrank beneath me until all its lights blurred into a distant, glittering wound.Back in the hospital corridor, Lucian kept calling me.Valerie told me later that he stood there with his phone in his hand, dialing again and again. His secretary finally reminded him that Clara was still waiting in the car.Only then did Lucian slide the phone into his pocket and return to the black Cadillac outside.Clara sat in the back seat wrapped in his coat. Her face was pale and bruises bloomed across her arms. She said the debt collectors had grabbed her, locked her in a house outside the city, and left her thinking she might never see daylight again.Lucian looked at the marks on her skin, and his expression went dark. "I'll have the lawsuit handled. The clinic will get new security by tonight. Those people won't get near you again.""Thank you, Lucian." Clara's voice shook just enough. "I don't know what I would do without you."She paused, then

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