Chapter 7 - THE NEW RULES
~1,100 words
The emergency room at Chicago General Hospital was usually chaotic on a Friday night, but when Luca Moretti walked through the automatic sliding doors, the atmosphere shifted entirely.
He didn’t wait in the plastic chairs. He didn’t fill out a clipboard of insurance forms.
He simply walked up to the triage desk, spoke quietly to the charge nurse, and within two minutes, I was sitting on a pristine examination table in a private room.
The attending physician treated my burned hand with the utmost care, applying a cooling, antibacterial silver-sulfadiazine cream and wrapping it in fresh, sterile gauze.
Luca stood in the corner of the room the entire time, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes watching the doctor’s every move to ensure I wasn’t in any unnecessary pain.
Benjamin sat in a chair next to the examination table, refusing to let go of my good hand.
“It looks worse than it is,” the doctor assured Luca, taping the bandage securely. “Second-degree burns hurt terribly, but she has no nerve damage. Keep it dry, change the dressing daily, and she’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Luca nodded.
As we walked out to the waiting SUV, the freezing Chicago wind whipped through the parking lot. Luca immediately took off his expensive suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
“I’m fine, sir, really,” I protested, shivering slightly.
“Wear it, Claire,” he insisted, opening the car door for me.
The ride back to the estate was quiet, but it wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of the dining room. It was a comfortable, exhausted peace.
Benjamin fell asleep in the backseat, his head resting against my shoulder, his small fingers loosely curled around the pink silk ribbon he had tucked into his pocket.
When we pulled through the massive iron gates of the Moretti estate, the grounds were dark. The catering trucks were gone. The valet stand was empty. The twenty-four guests had vanished like ghosts, leaving the massive stone mansion looking more like a home than it had in months.
Marco parked the car near the front steps.
Luca carefully lifted the sleeping Benjamin into his arms.
We walked through the grand foyer, past the empty dining room, and up the sweeping marble staircase.
I followed them down the long hallway to Benjamin’s bedroom.
Luca laid his son gently onto the mattress, pulling the heavy down comforter over his shoulders. He took the little boy’s dress shoes off and placed them neatly by the closet.
Then, Luca walked over to the small bedside table.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver-framed photograph of Caroline.
He placed it directly next to Benjamin’s lamp, ensuring it would be the very first thing the boy saw when he woke up in the morning.
I stood in the doorway, watching the mafia boss meticulously adjust the angle of the picture frame. The ruthless, terrifying man who had commanded a room full of powerful politicians an hour ago was now making sure his son’s favorite stuffed bear was tucked in.
Luca turned off the bedside lamp and walked quietly out of the room, pulling the door partially shut.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning his broad shoulders against the wall.
“He’s going to be okay, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly, standing a few feet away.
Luca looked at me. The exhaustion in his eyes was profound.
“Call me Luca,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, sir.”
“You just spent your life savings to protect my family and plunged your hand into a fire to save my dead wife’s ribbon. I think we’ve moved past formalities, Claire.”
I managed a small, tired smile. “Okay. Luca.”
He rubbed a hand across his jawline, the shadow of a stubble appearing on his face.
“I owe you an apology,” Luca said, his voice low and serious in the quiet hallway.
“For what?”
“For bringing that woman into this house. For being so blind to what she was doing. I thought… I thought if I provided him with a mother figure, it would fix the broken pieces. I didn’t realize I was bringing a monster into his sanctuary.”
“You wanted him to be happy,” I offered gently. “Grief makes us want to fix things quickly. But you can’t replace a mother. You can only give a child a safe place to remember her.”
Luca stared at me, deeply struck by the simplicity and truth of my words.
“Where did you learn to be so wise at twenty-seven?” he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his dark eyes.
“I grew up with a single mother,” I explained, looking down at my bandaged hand. “She worked the night shifts at a grocery store, scrubbing floors so I could have school supplies. She taught me that real love isn’t about buying things or putting on a perfect face for guests. Real love is showing up when it hurts.”
Luca remained silent for a long moment.
“She sounds like a remarkable woman.”
“She is. And thanks to you, she won’t have to worry about losing her apartment next week.”
Luca pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward me.
“Claire,” he said, his tone shifting into something heavier, more deliberate. “Vanessa was right about one thing tonight.”
I frowned, my anxiety instantly spiking. “What was that?”
“I do work too much,” Luca admitted, his eyes holding mine. “I use the business as an excuse to avoid the quiet of this house. Because the quiet is where the ghosts live.”
He looked down the hallway toward the empty master suite.
“But that changes tomorrow,” he declared. “I’m restructuring my hours. I’m stepping back from the evening operations. I want to be here when Benjamin eats dinner. I want to help him with his math homework. I want to know the names of his friends.”
He looked back at me, and the sincerity in his expression made my heart skip a beat.
“And I need your help to do it.”
“I’ll do whatever you need, Luca,” I promised.
“Good,” he smiled, a real, full smile that made him look ten years younger. “Then your first official duty as governess is to go to your quarters and get some sleep. You’re off duty until noon tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Luca,” he corrected gently.
“Thank you, Luca.”
I turned and walked down the hallway toward the staff staircase.
May you like
As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back over my shoulder.
Luca was still standing outside Benjamin’s door, watching me go. He didn’t look like a mob boss anymore. He looked like a father who had finally found his way home.
