The seventh time Luca Bellandi served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son, Noah, in a worn little Italian restaurant in Chicago's Little Italy.Snow drifted past the windows. Noah sat across from me in his St. Ambrose uniform, bow tie straight. He slid a folder across the table to me.[Petition for Dissolution of Marriage]The agreement inside was written in blue ballpoint pen on a sheet torn from Noah's homework notebook, the lines crooked, the words pressed so hard they nearly cut through the paper.Property settlement: five hundred thousand dollars to Mom.Additional clause: After taking the money, Mom can't bother Daddy, me, or Serena anymore.Serena Valenti. Luca's "temporary adviser." And the childhood sweetheart he'd grown up with.For five years, I'd endured the Bellandi elders' cold faces, Luca's lawsuits, and every rumor he let spread because I wanted custody of my son. For Noah, I'd have walked away from the estate, the jewelry, and the shares with nothing.But the
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