Chapter 2 - THE PAPER TRAIL OF DECEIT
The night air burned my lungs, but I welcomed the pain. It was the only thing keeping me grounded. I stood on the corner of Michigan Avenue, searching the crowds of pedestrians, but Natalie and the man with the stroller were long gone, swallowed by the winter metropolis.
My phone vibrated furiously in my coat pocket. Evelyn’s caller ID flashed on the screen repeatedly. I declined every call and dialed Marcus, my chief of private security and the only man in Chicago I trusted completely.
"Boss?" Marcus answered on the second ring. "Is everything alright? Your dinner wasn't supposed to end for another hour."
"Marcus," I rasped, leaning against the cold stone pillar of a high-rise building. "I need you to pull up everything on Dr. Arthur Vance. The fertility director at St. Jude Women’s Clinic in Lincoln Park."
"Dr. Vance? Sir, isn't that the clinic—"
"Yes," I interrupted. "I want his personal bank statements from five years ago. I want his offshore accounts, his email logs, his calendar records, and every connection he had to the Moretti family or the Moretti Foundation. I want it on my desk by midnight."
There was a brief pause on the line. Marcus was a seasoned former detective; he knew better than to ask unnecessary questions when my tone sounded like cracked glass. "Understood, Mr. Moretti. I’m on it."
I took a cab back to my penthouse on Lake Shore Drive instead of taking my private car. I needed space. I needed time to process the terrifying reality that was settling over me.
When I entered the grand living room, the panoramic windows offered a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan, frozen dark and vast under the winter sky. This penthouse was a trophy—a twelve-million-dollar testament to my wealth and status. Yet standing in the middle of the polished marble floor, it felt like a mausoleum.
Ten minutes later, the private elevator chimed. Evelyn stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. She threw her designer clutch onto the leather sofa, her face pale with fury.
"How dare you leave me alone in that restaurant?" she demanded, stepping toward me. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? The CEO of Citadel was three tables away, Luca! My reputation—"
"Your mother was on the board of St. Jude Women’s Clinic," I said softly, not turning around to face her.
Evelyn stopped mid-stride.
I turned around slowly, looking at the woman I had been married to for three years. "Your mother, Eleanor Shaw, served as the chairperson of the finance committee at St. Jude from 2018 to 2021. The exact years Natalie and I were undergoing treatment there."
"My family supports dozens of medical charities in Illinois, Luca," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a quiet, defensive hum. "That hardly proves anything."
"It proves access," I said, walking toward her. "When Natalie and I were struggling, I was lost, grieving, and desperate for an heir. And suddenly, your mother introduced me to Dr. Vance. A month later, Vance informed me that Natalie had severe, irreversible cervical scarring—a condition that made it impossible for her to carry a child to term."
"And she couldn't!" Evelyn spat, losing her cool composure. "You saw the tests! You read the reports yourself!"
"I read reports that Dr. Vance wrote!" I roared, the sound exploding through the empty penthouse. "Reports that I never verified with an independent panel because I was too foolish, too arrogant, and too trusting of your family's social standing!"
Evelyn took a step back, her eyes flashing with a mix of resentment and arrogance. "And what if Dr. Vance was mistaken? Doctors make errors all the time, Luca! Why are you burning down our lives over a mistake from five years ago?!"
"Because it wasn't a mistake," I whispered, my chest heaving. "Natalie didn't have cervical scarring. She was completely healthy. Someone fed me a lie, month after month, until I slowly withdrew from her. Until I stopped touching her. Until I left her with nothing, thinking she was broken."
Evelyn folded her arms across her chest, a cold, mocking smile touching her painted lips. "You left her because she was a nobody, Luca. Let’s be honest with ourselves for once. Natalie Carter was a elementary school art teacher from southern Illinois. She didn't fit into your world. She looked out of place at gala dinners. She wore off-the-rack dresses and cringed at your business partners. I saved you from an embarrassing life."
The sheer callousness of her words felt like a dagger sinking into my spine.
"You didn't save me," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You targeted me."
Before Evelyn could reply, the elevator doors chimed again. Marcus stepped out, holding a thick leather folder in his hand. He looked between Evelyn and me, immediately sensing the toxic tension in the air.
"Mr. Moretti," Marcus said cautiously. "I have the financial records you requested."
"Read them, Marcus," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on Evelyn. "Read the transactions from June 2020."
Marcus opened the folder, his eyes scanning the printed bank statements. "On June 14, 2020—two weeks before you filed for divorce from Natalie Carter—a wire transfer of $450,000 was executed from a shell corporation registered in Nevada named Lumina Holdings."
"Who owns Lumina Holdings, Marcus?" I asked.
Marcus looked up, his expression grim. "The primary beneficiary of Lumina Holdings is Eleanor Shaw. Mrs. Moretti's mother. The funds were deposited directly into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands belonging to Dr. Arthur Vance."
The room plunged into absolute, suffocating silence.
Evelyn didn't move. She didn't flinch. The mask of the refined, high-society wife shattered completely, leaving behind a cold, calculating woman who had systematically dismantled another human being's life for financial gain.
"You..." I stepped toward her, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. "You bribed my doctor. You paid him to forge medical records to destroy my marriage."
Evelyn didn't cower. Instead, she lifted her chin, her eyes burning with icy disdain.
"So what if my mother helped nature take its course?" Evelyn sneered softly. "You were wasting your wealth and your legacy on a woman who offered you nothing, Luca! You needed a real wife. A woman with connections, family standing, and social power. You were miserable with her anyway!"
"I loved her!" I screamed, the truth finally breaking out of me after years of self-deception. "I loved her! She was the only clean, honest thing in my entire miserable life!"
"You abandoned her!" Evelyn threw back in my face, her voice piercing the air. "You signed the divorce papers! You walked away! I didn't sign those papers, Luca—YOU did! You were the one who told her you didn't love her anymore!"
Her words hit me like a physical blow. She was right.
No matter what Evelyn and her mother had engineered behind the scenes, the ultimate betrayal had been mine. I was the one who lacked faith. I was the one who listened to whispers. I was the one who looked into Natalie's heartbroken eyes in our snowy kitchen and told her I didn't love her.
I fell back against the edge of my mahogany desk, breathing heavily, crushed under the weight of my own sins.
"Get out," I whispered.
Evelyn laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Excuse me?"
"Get out of my home," I said, looking up at her with eyes stripped of all warmth. "Take your clothes, your jewelry, your family's filthy name, and get out before I have Marcus throw you onto the street."
"This is my home too!" Evelyn snapped. "We are married, Luca! If you think you can just discard me like you did her, you are out of your mind. I will ruin you in court! My family will pull every contract from Moretti Enterprises!"
"Try it," I said, my voice hollow, devoid of fear. "Expose yourself. Let the press find out how the Shaw family bribed a doctor to falsify medical records. Let’s see what happens to your family's precious reputation when the federal prosecutor gets a hold of this file."
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Evelyn stared at me, realizing for the first time that I was no longer playing the game of high-society etiquette. I had nothing left to lose.
Without another word, she turned on her heel, grabbed her coat, and walked into the elevator. The doors closed, leaving me alone in the vast, silent penthouse with the ghosts of my past.
