Burned Out of the Moretti Name
Everyone in southern Italy knew that Lorenzo Moretti loved me like a madman.
And yet he had been keeping a much younger woman in Naples. They said she looked just like I had years ago. He told people she was only a reminder of the woman he had once loved most.
He also gave strict orders that no one was to let me hear about her.
Until the day I found out I was pregnant.
I went to his office to tell him the news myself, only to stop outside the door when I heard a young woman’s voice from inside.
“Lorenzo… am I only here because I remind you of her?”
The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw a young woman who looked too much like me, wrapped in his jacket and holding his glass.
I stood there, barely breathing.
Then I heard him answer.
“Don’t compare yourself to her.”
“She could never be what you are.”
I turned and walked away without making a sound.
That night, I called my mother.
“Mother, I’ve made up my mind.”
She was silent for a moment.
“I want a fire,” I said. “Something no one survives. By the time it’s over, Sophia Moretti needs to be dead to the world.”