Chapter 7 - The Fracturing of Luca
Thursday night was the longest night of my life.
Luca showed up at Rachel’s townhouse at seven p.m. He didn't knock politely; he pounded on the door until Rachel threatened to call the police again.
Through the locked door, his voice came through muffled, strained, and cracked with desperation.
“Jessi! Please open the door! Just talk to me!”
I walked to the entryway, keeping the deadbolt locked. “Go home, Luca.”
“Jessi, Mom knows about the state audit!” he cried out, his voice slipping into a panicked wail. “Someone reported Oakwood’s billing records! The state investigators showed up at her clinic this afternoon! Was it you? Did you do this?”
“Your mother did this to herself when she decided to turn children into cash cows,” I replied steadily through the wood.
“You don’t understand!” he yelled, slamming his palm against the door. “My partnership buy-in was tied to that grant! If Oakwood goes under, the family trust defaults, and I lose my position at the firm! Everything I’ve worked for disappears!”
The truth finally broke free from his throat.
Not *our* family.
Not *Fiona’s* well-being.
Not *our* marriage.
*His* partnership. *His* position. *His* money.
“You whispered to your mother at our daughter’s birthday party,” I said, every word measured and calm. “You told her to cut down our two-year-old child so I would feel weak enough to let your mother use her. You didn’t care about Fiona’s heart. You only cared about your buy-in.”
“I did it for our future!” he pleaded. “We would have had money, Jessi! Fiona would have wanted for nothing!”
“Fiona has a mother who loves her,” I said. “She doesn't need your blood money. Go home, Luca. Prepare your defense for tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” His voice hitched. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Courtroom 402. Don't be late.”
I turned off the entryway light, leaving him standing in the dark on the porch. For a long time, there was only the sound of his ragged breathing. Then came the sound of footsteps retreating down the concrete steps, followed by the roar of his engine speeding away into the night.
I walked back into the living room. Fiona was asleep on the sofa, her little hand resting against her cheek. I sat beside her, gently stroking her soft hair, listening to the rhythm of her peaceful breath.
May you like
Tomorrow, the storm would make landfall. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I was not afraid.
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