Chapter 2 - The Father Who Was Never Home
By midnight, Vincent Moretti had called Claire seventeen times.
Every call went unanswered.
He sent messages.
He contacted her office.
He even drove to the apartment she'd owned before their marriage, only to discover she'd rented it to a young married couple the previous spring.
Claire hadn't vanished impulsively.
She'd planned her departure.
That knowledge frightened him more than anything.
Vincent had spent his adult life anticipating danger.
He controlled businesses that moved millions of dollars every week.
He employed men who would answer his calls at three in the morning without asking why.
He knew how to identify betrayal before it reached his doorstep.
But he'd never imagined that the person most capable of leaving him was the woman who had once loved him without reservation.
At one in the morning, Dominic entered his office.
"I spoke with Mrs. Moretti's attorney."
Vincent stood immediately.
"Where is she?"
"She won't disclose that."
"Does she know Claire is pregnant?"
"Yes."
Vincent gripped the edge of his desk.
"Did you tell her I know?"
"I did."
"And?"
Dominic hesitated.
"She said Mrs. Moretti will discuss the pregnancy through counsel when she's ready. She also asked that you stop calling her repeatedly."
Vincent stared at him.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
A muscle tightened in Vincent's jaw.
He could have demanded that Dominic use the Moretti network to locate Claire.
He could have sent men to every Bennett family property from Chicago to Ohio.
He could have discovered where she was sleeping before sunrise.
For a moment, the old instinct rose.
Find her.
Bring her home.
Fix whatever needed fixing.
Then he looked at the ultrasound lying on his desk.
Claire had left because he'd spent two years ignoring what she wanted.
Hunting her down would only prove that nothing had changed.
"No one follows her," he said finally.
Dominic blinked.
"Boss?"
"No trackers. No people asking questions at her parents' house. No pressure on her employer. Nothing."
Dominic nodded.
"And if the family asks?"
"Tell them I said to leave her alone."
After Dominic left, Vincent opened the drawer where Claire used to keep the small things he forgot.
Receipts.
Appointment cards.
Extra batteries.
The names of people whose birthdays mattered.
There was an old envelope inside.
Across the front, in Claire's handwriting, were four words.
Things We Should Remember.
Vincent opened it.
Inside were photographs from the first two years of their marriage.
Their wedding.
A Christmas morning in Vermont.
Claire laughing as she tried to teach him how to make pancakes.
A photograph of Vincent asleep on the couch with Claire's head resting against his chest.
He'd forgotten how often she used to smile.
In most recent photographs, her smile had become smaller.
More careful.
As if happiness itself had started to feel embarrassing.
At the bottom of the envelope was a folded piece of paper.
Vincent recognized it immediately.
A list they'd made during their honeymoon.
Places We'll Go.
Things We'll Build.
Names We Like for Our Children.
His hand stopped.
Under the last heading, Claire had written three names.
Eleanor.
Gabriel.
Amelia.
Beside Amelia, Vincent himself had drawn a crooked star.
He remembered why.
They'd been sitting on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean.
Claire had said she loved the name because it belonged to her great-grandmother.
Vincent had kissed her shoulder.
"Amelia Moretti," he'd said. "Sounds like trouble."
Claire had laughed.
"Only if she takes after her father."
He'd promised her three children that night.
He'd said he wanted a house full of laughter.
He'd said he wanted to teach their daughter how to ride a bicycle and their son how to cook his grandmother's pasta.
Then Sophia Reynolds had returned to Chicago.
And somehow, the family Vincent had imagined with Claire disappeared from his plans.
He never formally canceled those promises.
He simply kept postponing them.
He told himself he was being generous.
Sophia had been his first girlfriend.
They'd known each other since childhood.
Her divorce had left her shaken, and Noah had begun asking why the other boys at school had fathers who came to their events.
When Sophia called Vincent the first time, she sounded desperate.
"Please. Just one afternoon."
Vincent agreed.
He remembered Noah running toward him on the school field, delighted to see a familiar man standing among the other fathers.
He remembered how good it felt to make a child happy.
He also remembered Claire waiting in the car afterward.
She'd smiled when Noah showed her his handmade Father's Day card.
"That's sweet," she'd said.
Later that evening, she asked Vincent whether they could start trying for a baby of their own.
He'd told her they should wait.
At first, he said six months.
Then a year.
Then he'd stopped giving a timeline at all.
Now Vincent understood the terrible difference between helping a fatherless child and borrowing another woman's family while neglecting his own.
At eight the following morning, he went to his parents' house.
The Moretti estate stood behind iron gates in one of Chicago's wealthiest neighborhoods.
Vincent had grown up there.
His father, Carlo, had built the family empire through shipping, construction, political connections, and methods few people dared discuss openly.
Vincent had inherited both the businesses and the enemies.
His mother, Teresa, remained the unquestioned authority inside the family home.
When Vincent entered the breakfast room, she was examining photographs on her tablet.
Photos from Noah's sports day.
"Vincent," she said warmly. "You should have seen the comments on that family picture. Everyone says Noah looks just like you."
Vincent stopped.
"He doesn't look anything like me."
Teresa waved her hand.
"Oh, don't be difficult. You know what I mean."
"Where did you get the medallion?"
His mother looked up.
"What?"
"The one Noah was wearing."
Teresa's expression changed.
"From the family jewelry box, of course."
"That belonged to Grandmother."
"Yes."
"You told Claire it was being saved for our first child."
Teresa set down her coffee cup.
"Claire hasn't given us a child, Vincent."
The words struck him so hard that he almost stepped backward.
"Don't talk about my wife that way."
His mother looked surprised.
"Since when are you defending Claire? You've spent the last two years doing practically everything with Sophia and Noah."
Vincent stared at her.
There it was.
The truth he had spent two years refusing to hear.
His own mother believed Sophia and Noah were his real family.
And he had given her every reason to think so.
"Did you plan the sports day?" he asked.
Teresa didn't answer immediately.
"Mother."
"Sophia invited us. We thought it would be nice."
"Did you know it was my anniversary?"
"Of course."
"And you still went?"
Teresa frowned.
"Vincent, anniversaries happen every year. A child's school event is important."
He almost laughed.
It was the exact argument he'd used against Claire.
The words sounded uglier coming from someone else.
"Claire's parents flew in for that vacation," he said.
"They could have rescheduled."
"Her mother had been ill. It was supposed to be our first family trip since her surgery."
Teresa gave an impatient sigh.
"You're being sentimental. This isn't like you."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Do you know where Claire is?"
"No."
"Do you know why she left?"
"Because she's jealous of a little boy."
Vincent slowly straightened.
"No. She left because her husband kept abandoning her."
Teresa looked offended.
"That isn't fair."
"Neither was what we did."
His father appeared in the doorway.
Carlo Moretti was sixty-eight, broad-shouldered, and still capable of silencing a room without raising his voice.
"What's all this shouting?"
Vincent turned toward him.
"Claire left."
Carlo frowned.
"Left where?"
"She wants a divorce."
For the first time, Teresa looked genuinely alarmed.
"That's ridiculous."
Vincent reached into his jacket.
He placed a folded medical report on the breakfast table.
"She's pregnant."
Silence.
Carlo picked up the paper.
Teresa stared.
Then she whispered, "Our grandchild?"
Vincent looked at her.
"Yes."
His mother's eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Vincent. Then you need to bring her home immediately."
He didn't move.
Teresa stood.
"We'll arrange everything. I'll have the nursery decorated. We can call the best obstetrician in Chicago."
"Sit down."
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Teresa stopped.
"You gave away the heirloom you promised her future child," Vincent said. "You helped Sophia humiliate my wife on our anniversary. And now that Claire's pregnant, you think you can simply order her back here?"
Teresa swallowed.
"That isn't what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
She had no answer.
Vincent took the medical report from his father's hand.
"Until Claire decides otherwise, neither of you is to contact her."
Carlo's eyes narrowed.
"You don't give orders about your mother."
Vincent met his father's gaze.
"Then consider it a request from a man who has already lost enough."
He turned and left.
But outside, Dominic was waiting beside the SUV with something worse.
"Boss, there's an issue at Noah's school."
Vincent frowned.
"What issue?"
"I asked our attorney to clarify the paperwork after you mentioned being listed as his father."
Dominic handed him a printed document.
It was a copy of a school emergency information form.
Under Noah's name, the primary parental contact was Sophia Reynolds.
The second entry read:
Father: Vincent Moretti.
Vincent stared at it.
He remembered Sophia handing him a school form three months earlier.
She'd said it was necessary so he could collect Noah after soccer practice.
He'd signed it without reading the completed online entries.
"That isn't accurate," Vincent said.
"No. It isn't."
"Where's Daniel Reynolds?"
Daniel was Noah's biological father.
Vincent knew the name.
Sophia had told him Daniel was selfish, irresponsible, and uninterested in his son.
Vincent had accepted that explanation without asking questions.
Dominic looked uncomfortable.
"He's been trying to see Noah."
Vincent went still.
"What?"
"Our attorney checked the available custody filings. Daniel has court-ordered parenting time. There have been repeated disputes about missed exchanges."
Vincent stared at him.
"How long?"
"Almost eighteen months."
"Why didn't I know?"
Dominic's expression hardened slightly.
"Because nobody asked."
The words settled between them.
Vincent looked down at the school form again.
He had spent two years pretending to be a father because he believed Noah had been abandoned.
But Noah's real father had been fighting to see him.
And Vincent, who was accustomed to questioning every contract and investigating every person who entered his business, had accepted Sophia's story without a single challenge.
"Get me everything we can lawfully obtain," Vincent said.
"About Daniel?"
"About the custody dispute. Through counsel."
Dominic nodded.
Before he could leave, Vincent added something.
"And pull the security schedule from the day Diane Bennett went into surgery last year."
Dominic's face changed.
Vincent noticed.
"What?"
"Boss..."
"What happened that day?"
Dominic looked away.
"Mrs. Moretti called fourteen times."
Vincent swallowed.
"I remember. I was working."
Dominic said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
"Dominic."
"You weren't working."
A terrible silence followed.
Dominic continued.
"You were at Noah's winter school showcase. Sophia asked me to tell Mrs. Moretti that you were handling an emergency meeting."
Vincent felt the blood drain from his face.
He remembered Claire's voice that night.
She'd sounded frightened.
Her mother had developed severe complications during emergency surgery, and the doctors had warned the family that the next few hours were critical.
Claire had begged him to come.
He'd silenced his phone because Sophia said Noah would be devastated if Vincent left before the performance ended.
Later, he'd called Claire from the parking lot.
She'd answered.
"My mom made it through surgery," she'd whispered.
He'd replied, "Good. I'll be home late."
That was all.
He hadn't asked whether she was okay.
He hadn't offered to drive to the hospital.
He hadn't even remembered the following morning.
Vincent gripped the car door.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Dominic's voice was quiet.
"She found out eventually. And when I tried to discuss what happened, you told me not to interfere."
Vincent closed his eyes.
He'd become exactly the kind of husband he used to despise.
Then Dominic handed him another document.
"There's one more thing."
Vincent looked at it.
It was a letter from Daniel Reynolds's attorney.
The letter accused Sophia of obstructing parenting time and misrepresenting Vincent's relationship to Noah.
Attached was a photograph.
Noah, smiling beside Daniel on his fifth birthday.
On the back, someone had written:
For my boy. No distance will ever make me stop being your dad.
Vincent stared at the picture.
For two years, he'd been telling himself that Claire needed to understand how much Noah depended on him.
But now he was beginning to wonder whether the whole arrangement had been built on a lie.
May you like
And the most frightening question was no longer whether Sophia had deceived him.
It was why he'd been so willing to believe her.
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