Chapter 8 - The Things Luca Had DoneI wanted Luca to say no.
Immediately.
Outraged.
Impossible.
Instead, he looked at the detective and said, “My attorney will contact you.”
That told me enough.
We drove home before sunrise.
Mateo slept between us in the back seat, his head against my shoulder and his feet across Luca’s lap.
Neither of us spoke.
At the estate, Rosa took Mateo upstairs.
I walked into Luca’s office.
He closed the door.
I turned.
“How many?”
“Claire.”
“How many people have you killed?”
His face tightened.
“That is not a simple—”
“It is the simplest question I have ever asked you.”
He looked older suddenly.
“Personally?”
My stomach dropped.
“That distinction is not helping.”
He walked toward the window.
“Two.”
I stopped breathing.
“Dominic said three.”
“The third accusation is false.”
I sat because my knees suddenly felt unreliable.
Luca stayed standing.
“Tell me.”
“You do not want details.”
“I want truth.”
He was silent for a long time.
“The first was the man who killed my father.”
I stared.
“I was twenty-seven.”
“Self-defense?”
“No.”
The word hurt.
“You murdered him.”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
That almost made it worse.
“The second?”
His jaw tightened.
“A man who ordered an attack on Elena while she was pregnant.”
My eyes widened.
“She survived?”
“Yes.”
“And you killed him afterward.”
“Yes.”
I pressed my palms together.
Everything I knew about Luca divided into two incompatible men.
The father who built Lego castles.
The man who had taken lives.
Both were real.
That was the problem.
“Do you regret it?”
He took too long.
“I regret becoming the kind of man who believed killing was an answer.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“I do not regret protecting Elena.”
My throat tightened.
“You could have protected her without killing him afterward.”
“Yes.”
“Then say that.”
His eyes dropped.
“I regret killing him.”
There it was.
Quiet.
Ugly.
Real.
“I cannot change what I did, Claire.”
“I know.”
“I can only decide what I do next.”
I stood.
“I need space.”
Pain crossed his face.
But he nodded.
“You have it.”
For three days, we barely spoke.
I remained because Mateo needed stability.
Luca never pressured me.
That mattered.
He met with federal prosecutors.
His attorneys negotiated.
The legitimate restructuring continued.
Then the newspapers exploded.
MORETTI BOSS COOPERATING WITH FEDERAL INVESTIGATION
CRIME DYNASTY COLLAPSES
LUCA MORETTI MAY FACE CHARGES
Photographers camped outside the gates.
Former allies called him a traitor.
Former enemies called him weak.
Luca kept working.
One night, I found him packing boxes in his office.
“What are you doing?”
“Archiving files.”
“Why?”
“I may be indicted.”
The bluntness stopped me.
“For murder?”
“Possibly.”
My stomach twisted.
“When?”
“We don’t know.”
“Are you going to prison?”
“Possibly.”
I hated that word now.
He continued packing.
“I established a trust for Mateo.”
“Stop.”
“Rosa and Rafael—”
“Stop talking like you’re disappearing.”
“I need to plan.”
“You always plan for disaster.”
“Because disaster keeps arriving.”
I walked toward him.
“What are prosecutors offering?”
“Immunity for financial crimes related to information I provide. No immunity for homicide.”
“That sounds fair.”
He looked at me.
I expected anger.
Instead:
“It is.”
That answer broke the last wall between us.
I had been waiting for Luca to prove he wasn’t responsible for his past.
He couldn’t.
He was.
But responsibility was exactly what he was finally taking.
“I don’t know how to love someone who has done the things you have.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“But I think I already do.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Claire.”
“I’m angry.”
“You should be.”
“I’m scared of you sometimes.”
His expression broke.
Not anger.
Pain.
“I would never hurt you.”
“I believe that.”
“Then—”
“I’m scared of what you were capable of becoming.”
He nodded.
“So am I.”
I touched his hand.
“I don’t need you to pretend your past didn’t happen.”
“What do you need?”
“Make the future different.”
His fingers closed around mine.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
Two months later, Dominic accepted a federal plea agreement.
Kidnapping.
Attempted murder.
Extortion.
Racketeering.
Weapons charges.
He also provided evidence against multiple criminal organizations.
His credibility, however, had a problem.
Dominic claimed Luca ordered a third murder on a night when Luca had been in another state.
Video evidence proved it.
That lie forced investigators to reevaluate everything else he claimed.
But Luca did not escape accountability.
Evidence supported the two killings he had confessed to.
The first occurred fifteen years earlier.
The second eleven years earlier.
His lawyers argued circumstances.
Prosecutors argued accountability.
Luca refused to deny either.
Eventually, a deal emerged.
He would plead guilty to reduced homicide-related charges based on the available evidence, continue extensive cooperation, forfeit millions in assets linked to illegal activity, and testify against former associates.
Sentence recommendation:
Five years.
My heart stopped when his attorney told us.
Luca nodded.
Like someone discussing taxes.
“Take it.”
I stared.
“Five years?”
His lawyer looked at me sympathetically.
“With credit, cooperation, and possible early release—”
“No.”
I stood.
“Luca, no.”
He looked up.
“I killed two men.”
The room went silent.
“I can explain why.”
His voice remained steady.
“I can tell myself they deserved it. I can say my world operated differently. I can say I was protecting people I loved.”
He swallowed.
“But I made choices.”
I began crying.
“I do not want Mateo growing up believing Moretti men avoid consequences because they have money.”
That was the moment I understood.
He wasn’t surrendering.
He was teaching his son.
Three months later, Luca stood in federal court.
He wore a dark suit.
No guards of his own.
No empire behind him.
Just us.
When the judge asked whether he understood his plea, Luca said yes.
When asked whether anyone had forced him, he said no.
When invited to speak before sentencing, Luca looked toward Mateo.
Then me.
“I spent most of my adult life confusing fear with respect and control with safety.”
The courtroom was silent.
“My son taught me otherwise.”
His eyes met mine.
“So did someone who once threw herself over a child she didn’t know.”
I covered my mouth.
Luca continued.
“I cannot undo the harm I caused. I can only accept the cost of it and hope what I build afterward is better than what came before.”
Sentence:
Four years.
Possibility of release after thirty months depending on cooperation and conduct.
Mateo sobbed when officers approached.
Luca knelt and hugged him.
“You remember what I told you?”
Mateo nodded through tears.
“Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.”
“That’s right.”
Then Luca looked at me.
No dramatic speech.
No promises that felt impossible.
Just:
“Take care of him.”
I touched his face.
“Come back to us.”
He kissed my palm.
“I will.”
Then they took him away.
And for the first time since I met Luca Moretti, there was nothing he could command, threaten, buy, or control.
May you like
There was only time.
And whether we would still be waiting when it finished.
