The restaurant was called Aura, a subterranean sanctuary of brushed gold, black velvet, and dim amber light where Chicago’s political royalty and billionaire class bought privacy at two hundred dollars a plate. The low hum of jazz a

While Luca was trying to rebuild his soul, the life he had left behind refused to go quietly.

Three weeks after the park visit, Evelyn Shaw’s public relations war began.

A prominent national tabloid published a devastating, dirty expose: THE SECRET HEIRESSES: HOW AN EX-WIFE CONCEALED BILLIONAIRE LUCA MORETTI’S CHILDREN TO EXTORT HIS EMPIRE.

The article was full of vile lies. It claimed I had trapped Luca, hidden the pregnancy to demand a fifty-million-dollar buyout, and painted Evelyn as the tragic, devoted wife who had been heartlessly discarded when the "gold-digger" returned.

By 7:00 AM, my quiet Lincoln Park brownstone was surrounded by three dozen news vans, paparazzi with telephoto lenses, and shouting reporters.

Leo and Maya were terrified, peeking through the living room curtains as cameras flashed repeatedly against our windows.

"Mommy, why are those people taking pictures of us?" Maya whimpered, clutching her favorite stuffed bear. "Are we in trouble?"

"No, sweetie," I said, pulling the heavy velvet drapes shut and locking the front door. My hands were shaking with pure, unadulterated fury.

Before I could call Marcus Vance, the back door of my kitchen chimed.

I rushed to the kitchen, peering through the glass. Standing on my back porch, having jumped over my wooden fence in a tailored suit, was Luca.

I unlocked the door, and he slid inside, instantly pulling the kitchen blinds down. He looked furious—his eyes burning with a dark, dangerous rage I hadn't seen since his early days in corporate takeovers.

"They're outside my office too," Luca hissed, his voice tight. "Evelyn leaked it. She took a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement proposal from my attorneys yesterday and decided to burn my life down instead."

"She's targeting my kids, Luca!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Look at them! They're terrified! They can't even go to school today because your world is leaking into theirs!"

Luca stepped close to me, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders. His grip was warm, solid, and completely grounding.

"Listen to me, Nia," he said, looking straight into my eyes with absolute, unyielding conviction. "I am going to handle this. I am going to end this today. You and the kids are packing a bag. My driver is in the alley behind the alleyway. He's taking you to my private estate in Lake Forest. It has ten-foot security walls, private guards, and no press can get within three miles of it."

"I am not moving into your house, Luca—"

"It's not about us, Nia!" he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. "It's about Leo and Maya's safety! Just for forty-eight hours. Let me destroy the people who did this, and then you can come home. Please."

I looked at my children sitting huddled on the living room sofa, listening to the shouting reporters outside our front door.

I looked back at Luca. I saw no deception in his eyes. Only a father ready to tear the world apart to protect his family.

"Forty-eight hours," I agreed softly.

Luca pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker.

"Julian," Luca said to his head of global security. "Activate the crisis response protocol. I want every news outlet that published Evelyn’s story served with an immediate hundred-million-dollar defamation suit. I want Evelyn Shaw’s private non-disclosure agreements enforced by noon. And call a press conference at Moretti Global Headquarters for 3:00 PM."

"What are you going to do at a press conference?" I asked, bewildered.