Chapter 67

Chapter 22
The next morning arrived not with the resolution Luca had hoped for, but with fresh burdens weighing heavily on his shoulders. It was just past eight when his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with news he hadn’t expected. Carlotta’s elderly great-aunt had fallen down the stairs at her vast estate, and the situation was grim.

Without a second thought, Luca was out the door and racing to the hospital, his mind already spiraling. By the time he arrived, the entire Forentino family was there, cloaked in a somber mood. Luca couldn’t help but notice the way they exchanged glances—furtive, assessing. It wasn’t the kind of worry that comes from fearing the worst, but rather the quiet waiting that comes when an outcome feels inevitable. They weren’t talking about recovery or hope, no one mentioned prayers for a miracle. Instead, their conversations danced around logistics, responsibilities—what would need to happen next. There was no hysteria, no wringing of hands, just a stillness that felt almost resigned.

Occasionally, he’d catch one of them casting a sidelong glance toward Carlotta, the only one in the room with tear-streaked cheeks, her eyes red-rimmed from grief. They would offer her soft pats on the shoulder, murmuring their condolences, but even that felt half-hearted, as though their minds were already elsewhere. Perhaps on the estate—the sprawling legacy the old woman would leave behind, something more permanent than the frail body she’d inhabited for 102 years.

The tension in the room felt stifling, and Luca had to suppress the urge to step outside for air.
Inside the sterile hospital walls, Carlotta sat beside him, a shell of herself. Her face was pale, her hands trembling as they clutched his. While the others hovered like vultures, she was the only one truly heartbroken. Her great-aunt had been her escape as a child, the only warmth in a cold, loveless upbringing under her strict mother’s watchful eye. Luca could feel her grief, raw and tangible, as she sat there, her silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Luca,” she whispered, her voice cracking. He squeezed her hand in return, feeling powerless. He tried to console her, but what could he say? The doctors were grim, the list of injuries extensive: a dislocated hip, a broken femur, and a serious spinal injury. The prognosis wasn’t good. Still, Luca clung to hope for Carlotta’s sake, praying silently that somehow, someway, her great-aunt would pull through.

Then his phone buzzed again—his secretary, reminding him of a board meeting he couldn’t afford to miss. He cursed under his breath, his mind torn in two. He didn’t want to leave Carlotta, not like this, but duty called. He kissed her forehead softly, promising he’d return as soon as he could, before rushing to the office, his mind spinning.

The day dragged on in a haze of business reports and yearly objectives, his mind only half-focused. He forced himself through the motions, though his thoughts kept drifting back to Carlotta, to the hospital, to the fear that gnawed at his insides. When the meeting finally ended, it was six in the evening. His heart sank as he glanced at his phone—three missed calls from Carlotta, and several more from her family.

Dread washed over him as he dialed back, and when Carlotta answered, her voice broke with the words he feared: *“She’s gone, Luca.”*

Ms. Olympia Aldobrandini had passed away that afternoon, her body giving out after suffering internal bleeding. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The news hit harder: her entire estate—every penny of that $58 million fortune—had been left not to the family, but to her nurse, Anna Maria, a woman who had cared for her for over 20 years.

When Luca returned to the hospital, it was chaos. The Forentino clan, once somber, had transformed into a pack of wild animals. They were screaming, cursing in rapid-fire Italian, their voices echoing through the corridors as they hurled threats at the bewildered nurse. The lawyer stood there, pale and trembling, unsure of what to do, while Anna Maria’s wide eyes darted around in fear, caught in the eye of the storm.

Luca wanted no part of it. The greed, the ugliness—it sickened him. And Carlotta, sweet Carlotta, was on the verge of collapse. She turned to him, her voice shaking, “Please, take me home, Luca. I can’t be here anymore.”

Without a word, he wrapped his arm around her and led her out, away from the madness. They drove in silence, the dark streets of Rome passing by in a blur. Halfway through the drive, Carlotta’s composure finally shattered. She sobbed into her hands, her body trembling as she let out all the grief, the frustration, the betrayal she felt over her great-aunt’s death and the family’s reaction.

Luca’s heart clenched. He pulled over to the side of the road and took her into his arms, cradling her as she cried, her pain raw and all-consuming. He whispered soft words of comfort, though he knew they were meaningless in the face of such loss. But he held her, tight and unwavering, until her sobs subsided, leaving only a fragile silence between them.

When she finally pulled away, wiping her tears, her voice was small, vulnerable. “Can I stay with you tonight, Luca? I don’t want to be alone.”

His heart twisted. He knew it wasn’t a good idea—*God*, it was the worst idea, especially with Nico and Amber staying at his house. The last thing he needed was more complications, more tension. He could already imagine the awkward, painful scenarios that might arise if they ran into each other. But looking at Carlotta, her face pale and streaked with tears, he couldn’t say no. Not tonight. She needed him, and despite everything, he couldn’t leave her to grieve alone.

“Of course,” he said softly, his voice gentle despite the heavy weight in his chest. He turned the car around, heading toward his own home.

When they arrived at the casa, the house was dark and silent. Nico and Amber were already asleep, and Luca was grateful for the quiet. It gave him and Carlotta a moment of privacy, a space to breathe after the storm of emotions that had consumed the day. He switched off the lights, ready to retreat for the night, but then he noticed Carlotta heading into his bedroom—the master bedroom.

His stomach twisted. They had shared that room many times before, during their engagement, but tonight it didn’t feel right. Not with Nico and Amber under the same roof, not with everything that had happened. His son was already struggling with ghosts from the past, and the last thing Luca wanted was to add more confusion, more pain, to his fragile world.

But how could he say that to Carlotta now? She was so vulnerable, so broken, and he knew if he asked her to leave the room, she would take it as a rejection, as if he didn’t care. So he said nothing. He let her walk into the master bedroom and close the door behind her, while he stood there in the dark, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him like a vice.

He wandered into the living room, turning on the TV for distraction, but his mind was elsewhere. An hour later, when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, he got up and made his way toward the guest bedroom. As he passed by Nico’s room, his foot caught on something. A toy train, small and forgotten, lay just outside the door. Luca froze, staring at the tiny object, his heart lurching in his chest.

*Tomorrow,* he had promised himself.

But tomorrow had already come and gone. And nothing was solved.

The Stormy Reclamation: A Marriage in Ruins
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