Chapter 10
*(Luca's POV)*
She was right there. Five feet away.
And the distance between us had never been greater.
I sat in the chair she offered, my eyes unable to leave her face. She was — God, she was stunning. Not in the quiet, overlooked way she'd been during our marriage. This was something else entirely. This was a woman who'd caught fire.
"The terms," she said, sliding a folder across the desk. Her voice was professional. Flat. The same voice she might use with any business associate.
I didn't open the folder.
"Evelyn, I need to—"
"The terms, Mr. Castellano." Her eyes met mine — dark, steady, impenetrable. "I have another meeting at three."
I swallowed. Opened the folder.
The terms were brutal. Controlling interest in my pharmaceutical division. Board seats for Ashford appointees. Financial oversight of my R&D budget. Effectively, it would make me a subsidiary of her family's empire.
Three months ago, I would have thrown this across the room.
Now I barely saw the numbers. All I saw was her handwriting in the margins — neat, precise annotations she'd made herself.
"These conditions—" I started.
"Are non-negotiable." She folded her hands on the desk. "Your company is going under, Mr. Castellano. The Laurent family has already purchased eight percent of your outstanding shares. Without our backing, you'll face a hostile takeover within sixty days."
She'd done her research. Of course she had.
"I'll agree," I said.
Her eyebrows rose — the first crack in her composure. She'd expected me to negotiate.
"All of it," I continued. "Every term. I'll sign right now. But I need ten minutes."
"For what?"
"Not for business." I pushed the folder aside and leaned forward. "Evelyn, I know what Bianca did. All of it. The fake pregnancy, the phone call, your mother's ward — everything. I removed her from my life completely."
Her expression didn't change. Not a flicker.
"I know that doesn't fix anything," I said, and my voice cracked. I heard it crack and I didn't care. "I know your mother is gone and I can't bring her back. I know I failed you in every way a man can fail someone."
She said nothing.
"But I need you to know — I'm not asking for forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. I just..." I pressed my palms flat on the desk to stop them from shaking. "I need you to know that I see it now. What you were. What I had. What I destroyed."
Silence.
Then Evelyn stood. She walked to the window — a wall of glass overlooking the city skyline — and stood with her back to me.
"Do you know what my mother said to me the last time she was conscious?" Her voice was quiet. Controlled. But beneath it, I heard the fault line.
I didn't answer.
"She said, 'Tell Luca I don't blame him.'" Evelyn turned, and for one instant — just one — I saw the raw, devastating grief in her eyes. "She was dying because you gave her bed away, and she didn't blame you. Because she thought you loved me."
The words hit like bullets.
"She thought you'd take care of me after she was gone." Evelyn's voice hardened again, the grief retreating behind glass. "She died believing that."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Evelyn returned to her desk, sat down, and slid a pen across the table.
"Sign the documents, Mr. Castellano. Then leave."
I signed. Every page. My hand steady even though my chest was caving in.
When I finished, I stood. Walked to the door. And stopped.
"The locket," I said without turning around. "Did you get it?"
A pause.
"I got it."
"The photo inside—" My throat was closing. "You were smiling. You and your mother. I never saw you smile like that. Not once, in three years."
I walked out before she could respond.
In the elevator, the episode hit — fast, violent, merciless. I grabbed the railing as my vision went black, my body convulsing with the fury I couldn't control.
*Evelyn Evelyn Evelyn—*
But she wasn't there. Wasn't going to be there. Ever again.
I slid to the floor of that elevator and broke apart.
She was right there. Five feet away.
And the distance between us had never been greater.
I sat in the chair she offered, my eyes unable to leave her face. She was — God, she was stunning. Not in the quiet, overlooked way she'd been during our marriage. This was something else entirely. This was a woman who'd caught fire.
"The terms," she said, sliding a folder across the desk. Her voice was professional. Flat. The same voice she might use with any business associate.
I didn't open the folder.
"Evelyn, I need to—"
"The terms, Mr. Castellano." Her eyes met mine — dark, steady, impenetrable. "I have another meeting at three."
I swallowed. Opened the folder.
The terms were brutal. Controlling interest in my pharmaceutical division. Board seats for Ashford appointees. Financial oversight of my R&D budget. Effectively, it would make me a subsidiary of her family's empire.
Three months ago, I would have thrown this across the room.
Now I barely saw the numbers. All I saw was her handwriting in the margins — neat, precise annotations she'd made herself.
"These conditions—" I started.
"Are non-negotiable." She folded her hands on the desk. "Your company is going under, Mr. Castellano. The Laurent family has already purchased eight percent of your outstanding shares. Without our backing, you'll face a hostile takeover within sixty days."
She'd done her research. Of course she had.
"I'll agree," I said.
Her eyebrows rose — the first crack in her composure. She'd expected me to negotiate.
"All of it," I continued. "Every term. I'll sign right now. But I need ten minutes."
"For what?"
"Not for business." I pushed the folder aside and leaned forward. "Evelyn, I know what Bianca did. All of it. The fake pregnancy, the phone call, your mother's ward — everything. I removed her from my life completely."
Her expression didn't change. Not a flicker.
"I know that doesn't fix anything," I said, and my voice cracked. I heard it crack and I didn't care. "I know your mother is gone and I can't bring her back. I know I failed you in every way a man can fail someone."
She said nothing.
"But I need you to know — I'm not asking for forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. I just..." I pressed my palms flat on the desk to stop them from shaking. "I need you to know that I see it now. What you were. What I had. What I destroyed."
Silence.
Then Evelyn stood. She walked to the window — a wall of glass overlooking the city skyline — and stood with her back to me.
"Do you know what my mother said to me the last time she was conscious?" Her voice was quiet. Controlled. But beneath it, I heard the fault line.
I didn't answer.
"She said, 'Tell Luca I don't blame him.'" Evelyn turned, and for one instant — just one — I saw the raw, devastating grief in her eyes. "She was dying because you gave her bed away, and she didn't blame you. Because she thought you loved me."
The words hit like bullets.
"She thought you'd take care of me after she was gone." Evelyn's voice hardened again, the grief retreating behind glass. "She died believing that."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Evelyn returned to her desk, sat down, and slid a pen across the table.
"Sign the documents, Mr. Castellano. Then leave."
I signed. Every page. My hand steady even though my chest was caving in.
When I finished, I stood. Walked to the door. And stopped.
"The locket," I said without turning around. "Did you get it?"
A pause.
"I got it."
"The photo inside—" My throat was closing. "You were smiling. You and your mother. I never saw you smile like that. Not once, in three years."
I walked out before she could respond.
In the elevator, the episode hit — fast, violent, merciless. I grabbed the railing as my vision went black, my body convulsing with the fury I couldn't control.
*Evelyn Evelyn Evelyn—*
But she wasn't there. Wasn't going to be there. Ever again.
I slid to the floor of that elevator and broke apart.