Chapter 80

Chapter 36
Amber clasped the cold glass of soda, taking slow, deliberate sips as though each one could somehow keep her resolve intact. She tried to ignore the spread in front of her: savory biryani, creamy soups, fragrant curries, an array of tempting dishes, all wasted effort as far as she was concerned. Luca, though, was relentless, glancing at her with a pitiful, pleading expression, his eyes practically begging her to take a bite. But she didn’t falter this time, refusing to meet his gaze or acknowledge his desperation.

She thought he’d eventually give up, that he’d realize the futility of his efforts and leave her alone. But she should have known Luca wouldn’t retreat so easily. He leaned down to whisper something in Nico’s ear, and immediately, the little boy perked up, his face alight with the thrill of a mission.

A minute later, Nico clambered into her lap, balancing a plate of tiramisu in his small hands. He took a bite himself first, nodding with exaggerated satisfaction before scooping a heaping spoonful and stretching his little arm toward her. “Here, Mummy, it’s so tasty! Have some!”

Amber smiled, brushing a gentle hand through Nico’s dark curls. “Not right now, sweetie. You enjoy it. I’ll have a bite later, alright?”

But Nico’s big, innocent eyes held hers unwaveringly as he tilted his head, a look of pure, sweet determination crossing his face. He scooped another spoonful, stretching his hand even closer to her mouth. “Please, Mummy? Just one little taste.”

She felt her heart crack a little, but still, she was about to insist—until he piped up, “Daddy says you’re hungry. You just don’t want to eat because you’re mad at him.”
Amber shot Luca a seething glare, but he simply smiled back at her, shrugging as if to say he was innocent in this whole mess. “That’s ridiculous, baby. Why would I be angry at your daddy?”
Nico, perched in his high chair, swiveled around to face Luca, who leaned down to whisper something conspiratorial in his ear. “Daddy says… he isn’t sure, but—maybe it’s because it’s that time of the month?” The innocence in Nico’s voice was both amusing and infuriating, as he repeated his father’s words without fully grasping their meaning. Amber’s glare intensified, morphing into a glare so fierce it could have cut glass. Luca met her gaze with an amused expression, unfazed.


Amber’s throat tightened as Nico held the spoon in front of her again, his hopeful little face watching for a sign that his mission would be successful. And as Amber finally took the bite, Nico gleamed.


“See? It’s yummy, right, Mummy?” Nico beamed, clapping his hands together as though he’d just won a grand prize.

“Yes, darling. It’s delicious.” She gave him a soft smile, reaching out to wipe a stray bit of cream from the corner of his mouth.

But as Nico happily dug into the dessert himself, Amber’s gaze returned to Luca. She wanted to convey all the bitterness she felt, to make him see the cost of everything he’d put her through. Yet, even in this moment, with the sweetness of the tiramisu lingering on her tongue, Luca’s eyes remained filled with that same unyielding hope, as though he was convinced that somehow, just one bite would make things better. The sadness, the resignation, the fatigue—it all swirled together in her chest, and for just a second, she felt that tremor of anger soften.

Still, she smiled for Nico, kissed his forehead, and listened to his happy chatter as he continued eating, because for her son’s sake, she could pretend. For just a moment.

As they left the restaurant, Amber's heart raced with indignation. Luca had just paid the exorbitant bill and made arrangements for the restaurant to donate the vast amount of untouched food to a homeless shelter. But none of that made the anger simmering within her any easier to bear. They stepped out into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling against the darkening sky. Nico, holding tightly to her hand, looked up at her with his bright, curious eyes.

“Mummy,” he said, “Daddy’s asking if you’re ready to go home now?”
The question ignited a firestorm within her. “If your daddy wants to ask me something, Nico, sweetheart, he can do it himself. You don’t need to be his messenger,” she snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

“But he says you’ll get even more angry if he opens his mouth. You always do!” Nico replied, the sweetness in his tone doing little to ease the tension.
Amber took a deep breath, counting silently to ten as she felt her blood boil. Luca was using their son to poke and prod at her, a tactic she had come to despise. The bastard.

But she refused to take the bait, forcing herself to focus on the rhythm of her steps as they walked to the car. Ignoring him became a game, and yet Luca didn’t seem to tire of it. “Daddy is asking if you want to keep the AC on?” he prompted through Nico, his tone feigning innocence.

“Mummy, Daddy says if you don’t like this song, he can change the channel,” Nico chimed in again, oblivious to the tension brewing around them.

With every remark, Amber felt her patience fray. The playful banter had become an insufferable game of tug-of-war, and she wasn’t about to be pulled into it. She kept her eyes forward, focused on the path leading to their car, while her heart thudded in her chest.

By the time they reached home, she was practically vibrating with frustration. As soon as they stepped inside, she scooped Nico up into her arms, cradling him against her side. “Time for a bath, little man,” she said, her voice firm yet gentle as she navigated the hallway.

Nico squirmed happily, his little arms wrapping around her neck. “Can we play with the ducky?” he asked, his face lighting up with excitement.

Amber barely had time to register the silence of the house before she saw her: Carlotta Fiorentino, standing in the entryway, waiting for them. The woman looked nothing like her usual pristine, composed self. Her eyes, red and swollen, gave the impression she’d spent hours crying, her hair falling messily over one shoulder in haphazard waves. Carlotta, who never allowed so much as a strand to escape her careful styling, appeared utterly undone. A rawness hung around her like a shadow, at odds with her usual perfection.

As Amber entered with Nico balanced on her hip, Carlotta’s expression twisted, her face a mix of anger and anguish. Her mouth opened, and it looked as though she was about to blurt something out, but her gaze flickered to Luca. He made a small gesture with his hand—something subtle yet clear enough to signal restraint—and Carlotta’s mouth snapped shut, her jaw tightening with frustration. The silent exchange was thick with unspoken words, and Amber couldn’t shake the unsettling sense that she’d walked into the middle of something private and deeply charged.

The tension between Luca and Carlotta was palpable, like a storm that had been brewing long before she’d entered the room. Amber felt Nico’s little hands clutch her shoulder, his sleepy gaze unfazed by the silent standoff happening below. Before Amber reminded her, that this was none of her business. The two of them would probably like some privacy, so..

Without a word, Amber tightened her grip around Nico and nodded, a polite acknowledgment before she turned and headed toward the staircase.

Carlotta’s voice trembled as she began, "What you said this morning, Luca…" Her eyes filled again, brimming with tears she could barely hold back. "I thought about it, really thought about it, and I finally understand. Nico is…he’s your son, and it’s your responsibility to care for him." Her breaths were uneven, as though each word cost her dearly. "Mamma says that if your ex-wife has left him with you, of course you’d have to take him in."

She looked away, struggling to compose herself. "I spent hours thinking it over, trying to figure out how we could…how we could make it work without it becoming a problem." Her voice was fragile, a whisper of hope and defeat combined. "Only a few more months, and we could…we could have him enrolled in St. Joseph’s Boarding School in Sicily. I hear it’s one of the best schools in the country. He’d be here only for the holidays, and it would be better…better for everyone."

Luca’s face shifted, his eyes darkening with an unreadable expression as he stepped forward. He moved closer until they were almost touching, and he searched her face, taking in every nuance of her pain, her confusion, and the sadness that lingered in her gaze. Finally, he closed the distance and pulled her into his arms, gently cradling her head against his chest. He could feel her body shudder as the tears she’d been holding back fell freely, her sobs muffled against him.

"Carlotta," he murmured softly, letting her settle into his embrace, "come here, Itty…now tell me." He held her a little tighter. "Who was it?"

She looked up at him, her expression one of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Who made you come to me with this idea—when it’s obvious this isn’t what you want?" His tone had an edge, firm yet controlled. "Was it your mother, or was it your father?"

Carlotta stiffened, her lip quivering, and he saw the thin facade she’d been holding together crack. Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and her voice was a broken whisper. "It was Papa. He was furious with me when he heard I was second-guessing the marriage…really furious. I didn’t realize how much he wanted this until today. He said things, Luca, things that terrified me." Her voice wavered, and she seemed to collapse into herself, her shoulders trembling. "I… I can’t make him angry. I really can’t."

She dissolved into sobs, her breath hitching painfully as she clung to him. Luca felt his own chest tighten, a wave of anger rising within him, not at Carlotta but at the powerlessness he could see in her. He wrapped her tightly, protectively, rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles.

"Shh…shh…" he murmured softly into her hair. "You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll take care of this."