Chapter 7 - SHIELDS IN THE STORM
When I arrived at the craftsman house in Evanston, two unmarked security sedans were parked at the end of the block, keeping curious vehicles away.
I walked up the snowy porch steps and knocked gently.
The door opened almost immediately. Natalie stood there, holding a mug of tea. She didn't look angry this time; she looked exhausted, overwhelmed by the storm that had erupted across the news channels all day.
"I saw the press conference, Luca," she said softly, stepping aside to let me in.
I walked into the living room, taking off my coat. "I’m sorry, Nat. I tried to keep your current address out of the public record, but the media went digging. I have six private security guards stationed on this block. They won't bother you."
Natalie sat down on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. The twins were sleeping soundly in their cribs in the corner.
"I watched you on TV," she said, looking at me with a complex expression—a mix of sorrow, awe, and residual pain. "You tore them to pieces. Evelyn, her mother, the doctor... you destroyed their entire world in one afternoon."
"They deserved far worse," I said, sitting on the armchair across from her. "They stole five years of your life, Natalie. They made you believe you were broken."
"They stole five years of our lives, Luca," she corrected gently.
The word hung in the quiet room. Our lives.
I looked at her, my heart aching with a raw, desperate hope. "Natalie..."
"I was angry at you when you showed up here three days ago," she said, staring into her tea mug. "I wanted to hate you. I wanted to tell myself that you were just a selfish, rich man coming back to clear his own conscience. But watching you stand at that podium... taking full public blame for being foolish... I saw the man I married ten years ago."
I swallowed hard, afraid to break the delicate silence between us.
"The Luca I married," she continued, her voice trembling slightly, "wasn't rich. He drove a rusty Honda. He worked eighty hours a week at a small financial firm, and he used to bring me cold coffee at midnight while I was painting in my studio. He was protective, fiercely loyal, and kind."
"I lost him," I admitted softly, tears filling my eyes. "I got swallowed by wealth, Natalie. I thought success meant having a wife who fit into boardrooms. I lost my soul."
"Can a man find his soul again, Luca?" she asked, turning her dark eyes to meet mine.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I know where my soul left me. It left me in that snowy kitchen four years ago when I let you walk out the door. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn a fraction of it back."
Natalie looked at me for a long moment, then set her mug down on the coffee table. She stood up and walked over to the cribs, looking down at her sleeping children.
"Leo had a fever last night," she said quietly, changing the subject. "Teething. I was up until 4:00 AM holding him."
I stood up and walked over to stand beside her, looking down at the little boy. His tiny fist was curled near his cheek, his breathing soft and steady.
"Do you... do you need help?" I asked hesitantly. "I can hire the best pediatric nurses in Chicago. Night staff, nanny support, whatever you need—"
"No," Natalie interrupted, turning her head to look at me with a soft, bittersweet smile. "I don't need nurses, Luca. I chose to be their mother. But... if you want to stay for an hour... you can hold Leo while I take a shower. I haven't washed my hair in two days."
May you like
My breath caught in my throat. It was a tiny gesture—a crack in the high wall she had built between us.
"I would be honored," I whispered.
