“Why?”
“Because I thought it had something to do with us.”
“It had my name on it.”
“I know.”
“Then how could it possibly be about you?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because it mentioned me.”
I stopped breathing.
Evelyn’s eyes widened.
Phoebe leaned closer.
“What?”
“Your father wrote my name.”
“That’s impossible.”
“He knew me.”
“Barely.”
“Enough.”
I stared at the wall.
Dad had met Luca perhaps fifteen times.
Dinner.
Holidays.
Two hospital visits.
A weekend in Aspen.
He was polite but reserved around him.
I always assumed it was because Dad disliked almost everyone I dated.
“What did he say about you?”
“I’d rather show you.”
“No.”
“Jessi—”
“You have spent six months deciding what I should and should not know. That ends now.”
His voice tightened.
“I was trying to protect our family.”
“From my father?”
“From what he left behind.”
The phrase made my skin prickle.
“What did he leave behind?”
Luca didn’t answer.
“Luca.”
“You were eight months pregnant when I found it.”
“And?”
“You were working sixteen-hour days. You were anxious about the delivery. Every doctor appointment made you nervous even when you pretended otherwise.”
I hated that he was right.
“You decided I couldn’t handle the truth?”
“I decided I wanted facts before I handed you another burden.”
“By commissioning an appraisal of my house?”
“That was part of getting facts.”
“By using documents I didn’t understand?”
Silence.
“That part was wrong.”
“Using my old email?”
“I didn’t.”
Phoebe’s eyes sharpened.
I sat straighter.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“What about Naomi’s phone number?”
“I used it as the administrative contact because she handles your scheduling.”
“Did she know that?”
“No.”
“Then you used her information without permission.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds exactly like what happened.”
“I thought I could fix everything before you ever had to know.”
The sentence should have made me angry.
Instead, it made me unexpectedly sad.
Because I recognized something in it.
Not innocence.
But familiarity.
For years, I had done the same thing.
Fix problems before anyone noticed.
Handle grief privately.
Turn fear into logistics.
Call it protection.
Maybe Luca and I had been speaking the same unhealthy language in different accents.
It did not excuse him.
But it made the shape of the damage clearer.
“Why Miami?” I asked.
He sighed.
“That part had almost nothing to do with the house.”
“Then what did it have to do with?”
“Mom found out I had been meeting with the bank. She thought I was planning to move her.”
“Move her where?”
“Into the east wing.”
I frowned.
“The east wing you were converting into offices?”
“It wasn’t going to be offices permanently.”
Phoebe gave me a skeptical look.
I ignored it.
“What was it going to be?”
“A private advisory office for the family trust.”
“What family trust?”
Silence.
Then Luca said, “The one your father created.”
My fingers went numb.
Phoebe mouthed, Do not react.
