Chapter 10 - LILY CALLED ME DADDY FOR THE FIRST TIME WHEN NO ONE WAS WATCHING
It happened in a grocery store.
Not at Moretti House.
Not beneath chandeliers.
Not during legal ceremony.
A grocery store in White Plains.
Sophia had the flu.
I had Lily for afternoon.
We needed crackers, soup, apple juice, and something called “purple medicine” that turned out to be children’s ibuprofen with purple label.
I was pushing cart.
Lily sat front.
She wore yellow rain boots though it wasn’t raining.
At cereal aisle, she pointed.
“Daddy, can I get stars?”
I stopped walking.
She kept pointing.
“Those.”
I stared.
Lily noticed.
“What?”
Nothing in my life had prepared me for casualness.
She had not planned word.
No court.
No DNA.
No Sophia prompting.
It simply belonged.
“Nothing.”
My voice sounded wrong.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
She looked delighted.
I put cereal in cart.
Then walked three aisles before tears made labels blurry.
Enzo, not present thankfully.
Sophia would have laughed.
At checkout, Lily told cashier:
“My daddy has too much black clothes.”
The cashier smiled.
“Daddies do that.”
I nearly bought whole store.
Instead I paid.
Normal.
At Sophia’s house, she was on couch under blanket.
Lily ran.
“Mommy!”
Then:
“Daddy bought stars.”
Sophia looked at me.
She heard.
I saw.
Neither said anything until Lily went upstairs.
Then Sophia whispered:
“She called you Daddy.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
I laughed.
“Terrified.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
I glared.
“No.”
We laughed.
Then she reached for my hand.
Not romantic immediately.
Comfort.
Still.
I squeezed.
That was enough.
My mother’s relationship with Lily developed slowly.
Supervised visits at first.
Sophia present.
No giant gifts.
Victoria brought books.
First one too expensive limited edition.
Sophia handed back.
My mother looked hurt.
Then next visit brought $12 picture book.
Growth.
Lily called her “Grandma Victoria” after six months.
My mother cried in bathroom.
I knew because she came out with perfect makeup slightly imperfect.
I did not mention.
Some dignity deserved preservation.
Isabella returned to New York eventually.
She asked to meet me once.
I agreed.
Public restaurant.
No romance.
She looked different.
No family diamonds.
“I’m engaged.”
she said.
I blinked.
“That was fast.”
She laughed.
“Not wedding.”
“To whom?”
“Someone my father hates.”
I smiled.
“Promising.”
Then serious.
“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
“I heard.”
“No.”
She looked.
“I’m sorry I knew about Lily and treated her as problem.”
“That is worse than not telling you Sophia alive.”
“I reduced child to inheritance complication.”
Her eyes filled.
“I became exactly kind of person I told myself I wasn’t.”
I nodded.
“That’s accurate.”
She smiled sadly.
“Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Lily.”
Her face softened.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
“Does Sophia hate me?”
“Not my information.”
“Right.”
Then Isabella said:
“My father and I aren’t speaking.”
I did not celebrate.
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good.”
She laughed.
“We all say it now?”
“Apparently.”
We parted.
No hostility.
No friendship.
Enough.
Luca remained incarcerated.
He sent letters.
First blamed.
Second rationalized.
Third different.
I saw Lily’s picture in newspaper. She has Angelo’s eyes.
She did not.
She had mine.
Maybe same thing.
I was wrong to treat child like trust event. I don’t know if I can say more without explaining.
I did not respond.
Then months later:
I am sorry I ordered Anthony to use her as leverage. There is no sentence after that.
I kept letter.
Not forgiveness.
Record.
My biggest change came when federal prosecutors approached about certain legacy Moretti operations uncovered by trust audit.
They wanted cooperation.
Old me would have mobilized lawyers and silence.
Instead, I asked:
“What protects lawful employees?”
Rebecca smiled.
“Good question.”
We negotiated disclosures.
Exited questionable ventures.
Paid civil penalties in some matters.
No sweeping criminal case against me because much predated direct knowledge/control and we cooperated, though one cousin faced charges.
I took reputational damage.
Headlines:
MORETTI EMPIRE GOES LEGIT?
SILENT KING BECOMES CORPORATE REFORMER
I hated both.
Sophia laughed.
“You hate positive press more.”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“It’s inaccurate differently.”
She smiled.
The transition reduced armed men around me.
Not zero.
I still had enemies.
I still had history.
But Lily did not need four guards at playground.
Two discreet professionals nearby.
Sometimes none when risk low.
I sold Moretti House.
That shocked everyone.
My mother:
“You cannot.”
“I can.”
“Your grandfather built it.”
“He also put marble cherubs in bathrooms.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“Exactly.”
Why sell?
Too many rooms.
Too many ghosts.
Sophia would never live there.
Lily associated staircase with strange night.
I bought smaller estate in Westchester.
Still large.
I was Dominic Moretti.
Perspective.
But home had sunlight.
Normal kitchen.
No ballroom.
No hidden study safe.
When Lily visited first time, she ran through rooms.
“Where’s big tree?”
“Christmas.”
“Where’s staircase?”
“Over there.”
She inspected.
“Not scary.”
Good.
I nearly cried.
Then Sophia arrived.
She stood in doorway.
“Nice.”
“Too big?”
“Yes.”
“Expected.”
She smiled.
Then:
“You bought this for us?”
Danger.
“No.”
I answered.
“I bought it for me.”
“If someday you want to spend more time here, good.”
“If not, still my house.”
Sophia looked relieved.
That mattered.
She walked inside.
Two years after Christmas Eve, our relationship changed.
Not suddenly.
Dinner after Lily asleep.
A kiss after asking.
Then another.
No moving in.
No engagement.
We dated like people who had not lost four years, though impossible.
I met Sophia’s parents again.
Her father punched me once? Maybe too melodramatic. Better he refused handshake first.
Mr. Carter stared.
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
“I still blame your family.”
“So do I.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“I know.”
Stop.
We laughed despite ourselves.
Later he shook my hand.
Slow.
Earned.
One night Sophia stayed after Lily slept at my house.
We sat porch.
She said:
“I’m scared if I come back, everyone will say Victoria won.”
“What?”
“She always said your world would swallow me.”
“And?”
“I don’t want choosing you to mean I surrendered.”
I took her hand.
“Then don’t choose my world.”
“Choose me separately.”
Her eyes filled.
“That sounds suspiciously healthy.”
“Expensive therapy.”
She laughed.
Apparently universal.
Then she kissed me.
And for first time since she vanished—
May you like
I did not feel like I was getting old life back.
We were building something new.
