Chapter 6 - The First Step
The transition wasn't simple. You don't plug a man like Luca Moretti into a quiet West Virginia town without creating a distinct electrical current.
By the end of the week, Luca had moved out of the mountain lodge and into the small boarding house down the street from the bakery. He didn't force his way into my apartment, respecting the boundary I had set for the sake of the twins. He wanted them to get to know him slowly, without the sudden shock of a stranger claiming to be their father.
The first official introduction happened on a sunny Saturday afternoon at Gray Hollow Park. The autumn leaves were brilliant shades of gold and crimson, and the air smelled of woodsmoke.
I sat on a wooden bench, watching Ash and Lena play near the swings. Luca was standing a few yards away, leaning against an oak tree, wearing a plain black sweater and jeans. Without his armor of tailored suits and bodyguards, he looked remarkably like an ordinary father—except for the sharp, predatory way his eyes scanned the perimeter of the park every thirty seconds.
"Go on," I told Lena, giving her a gentle nudge as she ran up to me with a handful of acorns. "Go show the big man. He likes trees."
Lena looked over at Luca, her amber eyes blinking in the sunlight. "The rain man?"
"His name is Luca, sweetie," I said softly, my throat tightening. "He’s... he’s an old friend of Mama’s."
Lena didn't hesitate. With the reckless confidence of a three-year-old, she marched across the grass, her pink sneakers squeaking, and stopped right in front of Luca’s heavy leather boots. She held up her fistful of acorns.
"Look," she demanded.
Luca looked down. Slowly, with an expression that looked like he was handling live ordnance, he knelt on one knee in the dirt, bringing himself eye-level with our daughter. He extended his wide, scarred palm.
"Those are very nice, Lena," he said, his voice dropping into a soft, gravelly register I had never heard him use with anyone in Chicago. "Are they for a collection?"
"They're for the squirrels," she explained, dropping them into his hand one by one. "They get hungry when it snows."
Ash watched from the swings, his little hands gripping the chains tightly. He didn't approach like his sister did. He studied Luca with that same, intense, analytical gaze he had used on the porch. Luca noticed. He didn't press the boy; he simply kept his eyes on Lena, answering her endless questions about where squirrels lived and if he had ever seen a bear.
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But as I watched them, a black sedan with out-of-state plates crawled slowly past the park gates, its windows dark and unyielding.
Luca didn't turn his head, but I saw his shoulders stiffen. His left hand drifted casually toward his waistband beneath his sweater. The illusion of the quiet family afternoon shattered instantly. The past wasn't done with us, and Chicago was already knocking on our door.
