Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Hospital HallwayBy morning, Luca’s townhouse had become a command center.
Luca sat beside my hospital bed with his elbows on his knees and both hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles had gone white.
The doctor had already told us the baby’s heartbeat was strong.
That should have been enough.
It wasn’t.
Every few seconds Luca looked toward the monitor as if expecting the numbers to disappear.
“You can breathe,” I whispered.
He looked at me.
“I am breathing.”
“Barely.”
His jaw tightened.
There was a faint scrape across his right hand from where he had struck the café wall after police took Raymond away.
Not Raymond.
The wall.
That detail mattered.
Everyone expected Luca Moretti to react differently.
Even I had.
When we first met, I knew the rumors surrounding his family.
Construction.
Nightclubs.
Shipping.
Politics.
And darker words spoken only when people thought he wasn’t listening.
Mafia.
Boss.
Kingmaker.
Criminal.
Luca never pretended his family history was clean.
But he had spent years dragging legitimate companies away from men who still thought intimidation was a business model.
He could be terrifying without touching anyone.
That afternoon at Bellini Café, however, he had done the one thing Raymond never expected.
He had called the police.
Dr. Sarah Kendall returned holding a tablet.
“The baby looks good.”
Luca stood immediately.
“Completely?”
She smiled.
“As completely as I can say at twenty-two weeks. Heart rate is normal. No sign of distress. Norah’s blood pressure is elevated, but considering what happened, that isn’t surprising.”
“What about her throat?”
“Bruising. Soft tissue inflammation. No fracture or airway injury.”
Luca’s eyes hardened.
Dr. Kendall glanced between us.
“She needs rest tonight.”
“She’ll have it.”
“And reduced stress.”
Luca almost laughed at the absurdity.
I reached for his hand.
“Doctor, can I go home?”
“Soon. The police would like another statement first.”
Luca’s posture changed.
I noticed.
So did Dr. Kendall.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
When she left, I looked at him.
“What?”
“What what?”
“You made that face.”
“I have many faces.”
“The one that means you’re about to rearrange somebody’s life.”
His eyes softened despite himself.
“Norah.”
“Promise me.”
He stared at me.
“No retaliation.”
“I called the police.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He moved closer.
“Raymond attacked you in public.”
“And I want him prosecuted.”
“He put his hands around your throat.”
“I know.”
“You’re carrying our daughter.”
“I know.”
His voice broke slightly on the last word.
That stopped me.
Luca Moretti could stand across a table from men twice his age and make them reconsider entire careers with a glance.
But fear for me had stripped something away.
I touched his cheek.
“I need you here.”
“I am here.”
“I need you here tomorrow too. And six months from now. And when Sofia starts school.”
We had decided on our daughter’s name four weeks earlier.
Sofia.
For Luca’s grandmother.
His eyes lowered.
“So you cannot do something that gets you arrested because Raymond deserves it.”
A long silence passed.
Then he pressed his lips to my palm.
“I won’t touch him.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you.”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t say I would do nothing.”
“Luca.”
“Legally.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Legally?”
“I have attorneys.”
“That sentence somehow made me more nervous.”
For the first time since the café, he smiled.
Barely.
Then someone knocked.
Detective Rachel Monroe entered with another officer.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“We need to talk about Raymond Cross.”
Luca pulled a chair beside mine.
Monroe opened a folder.
“Mr. Cross claims the contact was mutual.”
I almost laughed.
“He strangled me.”
“We have video. His claim won’t survive.”
“Good.”
“But something else came up.”
She slid a photograph across the tray table.
My stomach tightened.
It showed my old apartment building.
The one I had lived in before meeting Luca.
A picture taken from across the street.
“When was this taken?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I stared at her.
“I moved out over a year ago.”
“We know.”
Luca’s expression became unreadable.
“Where did you find it?”
“In Cross’s vehicle.”
Monroe placed another image down.
My prenatal clinic.
Another.
The entrance to Luca’s townhouse.
Another.
Me exiting a bookstore.
Another.
Luca and me leaving dinner.
My throat tightened.
“He’s been following us.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“We also found a notebook.”
She hesitated before opening the evidence photo.
Dates.
Times.
Locations.
My doctor’s appointments.
Our favorite restaurant.
Luca’s office schedule.
My yoga class.
At the bottom of one page was a sentence written in capital letters.
SHE BELONGS WITH ME.
Luca stood.
“Where is he now?”
“In custody.”
“For how long?”
“That depends on arraignment.”
“He was stalking a pregnant woman.”
“We’re building the strongest case we can.”
Luca leaned forward.
“And when a judge gives him bail?”
Monroe didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
I looked at the photographs again.
For three years, I had convinced myself Raymond was part of my past.
Apparently, Raymond had never agreed.
That evening Luca took me home through our private garage.
Two additional security officers were waiting.
I hated it.
Not them.
The reason.
Our townhouse suddenly felt different.
Every window seemed too large.
Every reflection looked suspicious.
Luca followed me upstairs.
“I want cameras added inside.”
“No.”
“Norah.”
“I’m not living in a prison.”
“A camera in the hallway isn’t prison.”
“It starts with a hallway.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Fine.”
I changed into pajamas.
When I returned from the bathroom, Luca was standing beside the dresser holding a small velvet box.
I recognized it.
Inside was a silver necklace he had given me on our wedding day.
A tiny oval pendant.
I smiled faintly.
“You found it.”
“It was under the jewelry tray.”
He fastened it around my neck.
“You took it off.”
“My skin has been sensitive lately.”
He kissed the back of my head.
“I’ll buy you something softer.”
“You don’t solve everything by buying things.”
“I solve approximately forty percent of things by buying them.”
I laughed.
The sound felt strange after the day we’d had.
Then the doorbell rang.
Luca froze.
It was nearly midnight.
One of the security men downstairs spoke through the intercom.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a package outside.”
“From who?”
“No courier.”
Luca looked at me.
“Stay here.”
Absolutely not.
I followed him downstairs.
The package sat on the marble foyer table.
Small.
White.
No return address.
Security had already checked it.
“No explosives,” the guard said.
Luca opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of me.
Of an ultrasound image.
My ultrasound image.
The one from our appointment two days earlier.
Someone had photographed it from inside Dr. Kendall’s office.
Beneath it was a note.
Luca unfolded the paper.
His face changed.
“What does it say?”
He tried to fold it again.
“Luca.”
I took it.
Three lines.
YOU STOLE HER.
YOU DON’T GET TO KEEP THE BABY.
THE MORETTI NAME WON’T SAVE EITHER OF THEM.
My hand began shaking.
Luca reached for me.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Silence.
His eyes hardened.
“Who is this?”
A distorted voice spoke through the speaker.
“Tell Norah I’ll see her soon.”
The call ended.
Luca stared at the screen.
I stared at him.
Raymond was still in police custody.
May you like
Which meant one terrifying thing.
He wasn’t doing this alone.
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