Chapter 7 - THE WIFE'S PETITION
I read the caption on the petition five times before the words made sense.
EVELYN MORETTI, PETITIONER.
NIA CARTER, RESPONDENT.
The filing was not technically a custody petition.
That would have required Evelyn to claim a parental right she did not have.
Instead, it sought emergency guardianship review based on alleged concerns about the twins' safety and my judgment.
The distinction did not make me less furious.
Evelyn alleged that I had concealed the children's paternity for six years, exposed them to a sudden media storm, and refused professional protection.
She also claimed I had made inconsistent statements about whether Luca knew of the pregnancy.
The filing asked the court to appoint an independent child representative.
It requested temporary restrictions on international travel.
It requested disclosure of my financial records.
And buried on page eleven was the sentence that made my hands shake.
Ms. Carter's ongoing concealment raises a reasonable concern that she may remove the children from Illinois to frustrate their father's relationship with them.
I called Luca.
He answered instantly.
“I did not authorize it.”
“I didn't ask whether you authorized it.”
“I just found out.”
“Your wife filed against me.”
“I know.”
“She is trying to have a court investigate whether I am safe for my own children.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He went quiet.
I paced across my bedroom while Marcus kept the twins downstairs.
“Did Evelyn send someone to their school?”
“No.”
“You sound very certain for a man discovering new things about his wife every hour.”
“Nia.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she is standing ten feet away from me denying she filed anything.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
Luca put me on speaker.
Evelyn's voice entered the call.
“I did not file that petition.”
I had never spoken to her directly before.
Her voice was lower than I expected.
Steady.
“Your name is on it.”
“I know.”
“Your attorney signed it.”
“That is not my attorney.”
Serena was on my other phone reviewing the filing.
She interrupted.
“The lawyer is Gregory Pike.”
Evelyn went silent.
Luca said, “Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
Her composure cracked for the first time.
“He represented my father in my parents' separation.”
Serena spoke sharply.
“When?”
“Fifteen years ago.”
“Have you retained him for anything?”
“No.”
“Has he represented you through any family trust?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“For estate documents.”
Serena sighed.
“Then he has enough prior information to make a forged engagement look plausible.”
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“Why would your father file something in your name?”
Evelyn answered quietly.
“Because he knows Luca would never forgive me if he believed I came after his children.”
The sentence landed hard.
Luca did not respond.
Neither did I.
Evelyn continued.
“He wants us divided.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Your father paid someone at my fertility clinic, had my appointments tracked, and may have manipulated my access to Luca, but you don't know why?”
“I learned about the clinic payment today.”
“Convenient.”
“I understand why you don't trust me.”
“No, you don't.”
“You are right.”
Her answer disarmed me for half a second.
Then Serena spoke.
“We need to move quickly.”
She explained that forged or not, the petition had triggered a case number and a scheduled emergency hearing for Monday morning.
Evelyn would need to file a sworn repudiation.
Luca would need to file his own statement.
I would need to respond.
Instead of pancakes and introductions, we were entering court.
Exactly what someone wanted.
At four, Serena learned that Gregory Pike had left his office early.
At five, his phone went straight to voicemail.
At six, his firm announced that he was on indefinite medical leave.
By seven, nobody could locate him.
Then Elliot called.
He had traced the forged school authorization.
The document had been created on a laptop connected to a private network at the Lakeshore Club, one of Chicago's oldest private social clubs.
Daniel Shaw had been a member for thirty-eight years.
So had Luca's late father.
The club's guest log showed one visitor using Daniel's membership that afternoon.
Thomas Vale.
The same man whose SUV had circled my house.
Luca wanted police involved immediately.
Serena agreed.
I did too.
But the moment detectives began asking questions, another problem emerged.
Thomas Vale had been employed not only by Daniel Shaw.
He had also worked for Moretti Global.
Specifically, he had worked under Victor Kane.
The police requested Victor's statement.
Victor disappeared.
His phone went dead at 8:14 p.m.
Bell's team reconstructed Victor's final hour from cameras and transit records.
He left his apartment on foot instead of using his car.
He bought a coffee he never drank.
He entered Union Station through the Canal Street doors and spent eleven minutes sitting alone near the departure board.
Then Thomas Vale appeared on a camera across the concourse.
Vale never approached him directly.
A second man did.
The image was too blurred for identification.
Victor followed that man toward the service corridor where he was later found.
“Why would he follow a stranger?” I asked.
Bell enlarged one frame.
The second man was holding a white envelope.
On the front were two handwritten letters.
N.C.
My initials.
Someone had used me to lure Victor away from cameras.
Luca stared at the image.
“They knew he contacted Nia.”
Bell nodded.
“Which means either his phone was compromised or somebody was watching him before he called her.”
The investigation was no longer about a six-year-old mistake.
Someone in the present was actively trying to control who spoke to whom.
His River North office was empty.
The manila folder he had shown me was gone.
By nine, Luca was convinced Victor had run because he was guilty.
I was not.
“He called me voluntarily.”
“Guilty men confess when they think someone else is about to expose them.”
“He gave me evidence against Daniel.”
“He gave you exactly enough evidence to point at Daniel.”
We were standing in Serena's office again.
It had become our unofficial war room.
Evelyn sat at the opposite end of the conference table.
It was the first time the three of us had occupied a room together since the restaurant.
The geometry felt impossible.
My ex-husband.
His current wife.
Me.
And between us, six years of stolen history.
Evelyn wore no wedding ring.
I noticed before I could stop myself.
Luca noticed me noticing.
Neither of us said anything.
Serena pushed a draft affidavit toward Evelyn.
“If you sign this, you are swearing you did not authorize Pike to file the guardianship petition.”
“I didn't.”
“You are also swearing you never authorized anyone to approach the children's school.”
“I didn't.”
“Read every word before you sign.”
Evelyn did.
She signed.
Before Serena took the affidavit, Evelyn kept the pen in her hand.
“There is something else you should know.”
Luca's expression tightened.
“What?”
“My father called me after the restaurant.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“Less than an hour after we left.”
“What did he say?” Serena asked.
Evelyn stared at the pen.
“He asked whether the children looked like Luca.”
The room went cold.
Luca leaned forward.
“How did he know there were children?”
“I assumed he saw the article.”
“The article was not online yet,” I said.
Evelyn's eyes lifted to mine.
She understood immediately.
“No.”
“What exactly did he say?” Luca asked.
“He said, ‘Do they have his eyes?’”
My stomach turned.
Not are the rumors true.
Not who are the children.
Do they have his eyes.
Daniel had asked a question like a man confirming something he already suspected.
“Why did you not tell me?” Luca asked.
“Because five minutes later every news site in Chicago had their faces.”
“I thought he had simply heard before I did.”
Serena reached for her notes.
“Put that in a supplemental declaration.”
Evelyn nodded.
Her face looked shaken.
For the first time, I saw her not as Luca's polished wife but as another person discovering that her own memories might have been staged around her.
Then Luca slid his own affidavit across the table.
He had written one section himself.
I read it.
I do not believe Nia Carter poses a flight risk or a danger to our children.
I do not seek emergency removal, emergency custody, or any restriction on her parenting.
My immediate goal is to establish a stable relationship with Leo and Mila while protecting them from public exposure.
I looked up.
Luca met my eyes.
It was the first legal document in years that made me feel less afraid of him.
Then Serena reached the final paragraph.
Luca had added another sentence.
I accept responsibility for the conditions that made Ms. Carter believe she had to raise our children without me.
I read it twice.
“Why did you write that?”
“Because it is true.”
“You did not know I was pregnant.”
“I knew you were hurting, and I left anyway.”
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
The room became painfully quiet.
For a second, I hated Luca more for saying the right thing now than I had when he said the wrong thing then.
Because apology could not rewind time.
Before I could respond, Serena's assistant rushed into the room.
“Sorry.”
She looked genuinely alarmed.
“There are police downstairs.”
Luca stood.
“For what?”
“They're asking for Ms. Carter.”
My stomach dropped.
“Me?”
Serena went to the door.
Two detectives were waiting in the lobby.
One introduced himself as Detective Aaron Bell.
He asked whether we could speak privately.
Serena refused to let me go without her.
We used a smaller conference room.
Bell placed a clear evidence bag on the table.
Inside was my old ultrasound photograph.
The one I had carried to Moretti Global six years ago.
My breath disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
Bell watched my face carefully.
“It was found tonight in an abandoned vehicle registered to Thomas Vale's company.”
I touched the plastic bag with one fingertip.
On the back of the ultrasound was my handwriting.
Seven weeks.
Two miracles.
Tell Luca.
I had written those words while waiting for the elevator that morning.
The photo had been inside my letter.
Victor told me he destroyed the letter without reading it.
If that were true, he should never have had the ultrasound.
Detective Bell asked the question everyone in the room was thinking.
“Ms. Carter, who did you give this to?”
I looked through the glass wall at Luca.
He could not hear us, but he saw my face.
May you like
I answered.
“Victor Kane.”
