He Thought I Was an Orphan, Until I Went Home

Rain tapped the windows. Maya had made me cocoa and sat across from me in silence because there was nothing useful to say.

At two in the morning, Luca called while I sat in Maya's living room. "Anna, you left the ring at the registration table." Luca sounded calm, almost amused. "I picked it up. I'll put it back on your finger tomorrow."

"I know."

He paused. "You know?"

"I left it there."

The line went quiet. Then he chuckled. "Tonight was unfair to you. I'll explain Clara's side tomorrow. The spill wasn't her fault. Everyone saw you lend her the gown. They'll only think you're generous."

"Luca, we're done."

This time, the silence lasted longer. "Anna, stop acting out."

"I'm not acting out."

"You always say you're leaving when you're upset, and you always come back." His tone softened into the patience he used when he thought he was soothing me. "I'll pick you up tomorrow. We'll go to that Italian place you like."

"I don't want to."

"Then we'll go somewhere else."

"I mean we're done."

His breathing changed. "Over a dress?"

"Not over a dress."

"Then over Clara?" His patience thinned. "Anna, Clara and I grew up together. Her father died on a Moretti dock, and her mother bailed before Clara turned sixteen. She has no family, no backing. When something happens, she comes to me. You know that."

"So?"

"So can you stop keeping score over every little thing? You're supposed to become Moretti's Donna, not some girl from the projects fighting over crumbs. Lose that small, petty habit."

My fingers tightened around the mug. So that was what he thought. My patience was duty. My pain was bad manners. My hurt was a poor-girl habit he planned to train out of me.

"You're right," I said softly. "I'm just a girl from the projects. I don't deserve to be Moretti's Donna."

"Anna."

"Don't bother returning the ring."

His voice dropped. "Five years, and you really think you can walk away from me? Don't forget, you have no family. You only have me."

I looked at Chicago's blurred lights through the rain-streaked glass. "Luca, you're wrong."

"About what?"

"I have a family."

I hung up.

Maya watched me. "He still thinks you're an orphan?"

"Yes."

"You never told him?"

Five years ago, I came to Chicago as Anna Vale because I wanted a life beyond the Valenti name. I volunteered at a charity kitchen, and Luca, still the young Moretti heir, handed me hot coffee on a freezing night and looked at me without calculation.

I never told him my real name was Anna Valenti, or that every Chicago family lowered its eyes when my father entered. I kept waiting because I wanted Luca to love me for who I was, not because of the bloodline behind me.

In the end, I got a man who told a roomful of people I couldn't leave him.

My phone lit up again. [Sleep it off. Stop being stubborn tomorrow.]

I turned the screen facedown.

Then the secure phone hidden in my suitcase vibrated. Only the Valentis had that number.

Matteo. My older brother. My father's right hand. His voice was quiet. "The cars are on their way. Father wants to know if we should remove the Morettis from the wedding list tonight."

I looked out at the rain and gave a small laugh. "Don't make it a war. I'm only leaving Luca."

After a beat, he said, "Understood. I'll pick you up before dawn."