The next morning, Luca stepped into the dining room, his expression dark, his movements sharp. Ella was already there, sitting at the table, calmly buttering a piece of toast. Matteo sat beside her, swinging his legs as he ate his cereal, completely unaware of the storm brewing in Luca’s eyes.
Luca walked directly up to Ella, stopping just inches from her chair. His voice was low, controlled, but full of quiet fury. “Who were you meeting last night?”
Ella didn’t flinch. She finished spreading the butter before setting the knife down delicately.
“Good morning to you too, Mr. Luca,” she said, her voice smooth, unbothered.
Luca’s jaw tightened. “I asked you a question.”
Ella’s gaze met his with a calm, unblinking stare. “If you must know,” she said, her tone still as gentle and motherly as ever, “I was speaking with an old friend.”
Luca’s fists clenched. “An old friend?” he repeated, his voice dangerously flat. “At night? In an alley?”
Ella let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as if he were being ridiculous. “Not everyone conducts business like you, Mr. Luca.”
Luca’s nostrils flared. “Who was he?”
Ella lifted her tea cup slowly, taking a sip before answering. “Just someone I used to know.”
Luca’s fingers twitched with frustration. She wasn’t denying it. She wasn’t even hiding the fact that she’d met someone. She was brushing him off, as if it were nothing.
“You don’t think that’s suspicious?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.
Ella sighed, finally setting her tea down with a soft clink. “Mr. Luca,” she said in a patient tone, “I’ve lived long enough to know that people come and go in our lives. Sometimes, we reconnect. That’s all it was. A conversation.”
Luca’s eyes darkened, his suspicion growing. Before he could press her further, Matteo’s small voice interrupted.
“Uncle Luca?” Matteo asked softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Luca turned, his shoulders stiff. Matteo was watching them, his brow furrowed.
“Are you mad at Nanny?” he asked, his voice tiny, innocent.
Ella smiled gently, placing a hand on Matteo’s back. “Of course not, darling,” she cooed. “Mr. Luca is just a little grumpy this morning.”
Luca’s jaw ticked with frustration. Matteo turned back to his cereal, satisfied with the explanation. But Luca wasn’t satisfied. Not at all. And as he walked out of the room, his gut screamed one thing.
Ella was lying. And Marco needed to wake up before it was too late.
***
Later that night, Carmen was cleaning up the living room when Matteo wandered in, clutching his stuffed bear.
“Mama?” he asked quietly.
Carmen smiled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Matteo shifted on his feet, his eyes suddenly serious. “Do you love me?”
Carmen’s heart stopped in her chest. She crouched down to his level, brushing his curls back. “Of course I do, baby. I love you more than anything.”
Matteo frowned, his tiny face shadowed with something darker. “Then why do you leave me alone so much?”
Carmen’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.
Matteo lowered his head, avoiding her gaze. “Nanny says real moms never make their kids cry.”
Carmen felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Her body went numb.
“What? She said that?” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.
Matteo wouldn’t look at her. “She says a real mama never makes her baby sad.”
Carmen stood frozen, her heart breaking. She swallowed, forcing a smile. “Baby, I never want to make you sad.”
But Matteo didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, broken.
Later that night, as she cleaned up near Matteo’s toy box, Carmen found a crumpled piece of paper. She picked it up, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was a child’s drawing. Matteo had drawn himself, smiling and holding hands with Ella. And beside them, a faceless man.
Marco and Carmen were there too—but their faces had been scribbled out.