Chapter 2 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO CALLED HIM DADDY
-2
Luca’s first instinct was to get us somewhere private.
That told me everything.
“Elena, please. Not here.”
Not:
I can explain.
Not:
Celeste is lying.
Not:
Mia isn’t mine.
Not even:
Leo, I’m sorry.
Just:
Not here.
Because people were watching.
Pilots.
Gate agents.
Passengers who had heard his proposal.
Two flight attendants standing near the jet bridge.
And now Celeste, whose left hand still carried an engagement ring.
I looked at Luca.
“Is the little girl yours?”
His face tightened.
“Elena.”
“Is she?”
The child had moved behind Rosa.
She was staring at us with enormous brown eyes.
None of this was her fault.
I lowered my voice.
“Please answer one thing truthfully.”
Luca looked toward Mia.
Then Leo.
“Yes.”
Leo swayed slightly beside me.
I grabbed his shoulder.
“How old is she?”
“Four.”
Four.
My son was seven.
This was not an affair that started during a rough patch.
This was half of our child’s life.
Leo stared at Mia.
“She’s my sister?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at Luca.
“Dad.”
Luca’s face finally broke.
“Yes.”
Leo stepped backward.
That one word did what the public proposal had not.
My son started crying.
Not loudly.
His face simply collapsed.
He covered his mouth.
I pulled him into my arms.
This time he let me.
Celeste ripped the ring off her finger.
“Four?”
She looked at Luca.
“You said Mia was conceived after your separation.”
Luca looked trapped.
There were too many timelines now.
Mine.
Celeste’s.
The airline’s.
Rosa’s.
The court’s.
He had maintained them only because none of us stood in the same place.
Until now.
Rosa stepped forward.
“Elena, this is not the place.”
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She lowered her eyes.
“How long?”
“Please.”
“How long, Rosa?”
Mia began to cry.
Celeste immediately crouched and picked her up.
Good.
She protected the child before herself.
I noticed.
Rosa whispered:
“Since Mia was born.”
Four years.
Christmases.
Birthdays.
Sunday dinners.
Every time she looked at Leo.
Every time she told me Luca was “just like his father, always working too much.”
She knew he had another daughter.
I almost vomited.
Then Celeste stood.
“Luca told me you divorced two years ago.”
I looked at Luca.
“We were in Florida two years ago for our anniversary.”
Celeste went white.
“He said you went for Leo.”
I laughed.
An ugly sound.
“Did he also tell you we stayed in the same room?”
Luca snapped:
“Elena.”
“Don’t.”
My voice sharpened.
“Do not say my name like I’m embarrassing you.”
A gate supervisor approached.
“Captain Romano, is everything okay?”
Luca instantly changed.
Professional.
“Yes. Family matter.”
I looked at supervisor.
“No.”
Everyone paused.
“This may affect airline employment records, and there was a personal proposal over the PA involving another employee. I’m not asking you to intervene in my marriage, but I want today preserved.”
Luca looked horrified.
“Elena.”
I continued.
“I want the crew list, incident documentation, and security footage preserved according to whatever process applies.”
The supervisor straightened.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to contact customer relations and corporate security.”
“Good.”
“I can give you the information.”
Luca’s face hardened.
Now he was angry.
That helped me.
Fear had been making me weak.
His anger reminded me he expected control.
Celeste turned to him.
“You showed me a divorce decree.”
“It’s real.”
My breath stopped.
He looked at me.
“Elena, technically—”
“Technically?”
Leo looked up.
Luca noticed him.
Stopped.
Then he said quietly:
“There was a divorce filing.”
I almost laughed.
“Was?”
“It was finalized.”
Rosa whispered:
“Luca.”
He ignored her.
My hands went cold.
“When?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
The world tilted.
Fourteen months.
Fourteen months earlier, Luca had thrown me a surprise birthday dinner.
Eleven months ago, he accompanied me to Leo’s school conference.
Eight months ago, we refinanced our kitchen renovation loan—or so I thought.
Three months ago, we attended his cousin’s wedding as husband and wife.
Last week he had introduced me to a neighbor as “my wife Elena.”
Yet according to him, we were already divorced.
“I never filed.”
“I know.”
“I was never served.”
He swallowed.
“There was service.”
“No.”
“Paperwork says—”
“I don’t care what paperwork says.”
A terrible clarity settled.
“If a court says I’m divorced, somebody lied to the court.”
Celeste covered her mouth.
Rosa looked away.
I looked at her.
“You.”
She flinched.
“What did you do?”
“Elena, please.”
“Were you part of it?”
Luca stepped between us.
“Leave my mother out.”
That answered enough.
I took out my phone.
Luca’s face changed.
“Who are you calling?”
“A lawyer.”
“At an airport?”
“Yes.”
“Can we go home first?”
I stared.
“Which home?”
Silence.
Celeste began crying.
Mia clung to her.
Then Celeste asked Luca:
“Does Elena know about the condo?”
Another silence.
I looked.
“What condo?”
Luca closed his eyes.
Celeste’s face crumpled.
“Oh my God.”
I almost admired the efficiency of the day.
Every five minutes, a new life appeared.
The Chicago condo belonged to Celeste.
Or so she thought.
Luca had told her he bought it after selling “his share” of our marital home following divorce.
They had lived there together during his Chicago rotations.
Mia had a bedroom.
Luca had clothes.
Photographs.
Mail.
He was not visiting a mistress in hotels.
He maintained a second home.
“Where did the money come from?”
I asked.
Celeste shook her head.
“He said from the divorce settlement.”
I looked at Luca.
“What settlement?”
He said nothing.
Then Leo whispered:
“I want to go home.”
That was enough.
I stopped.
Not because questions ended.
Because my child mattered more than public confession.
I crouched.
“We’re going.”
“Is Dad coming?”
I looked at Luca.
“No.”
Leo started crying again.
Luca stepped forward.
“Buddy.”
Leo recoiled.
The movement destroyed him.
“Don’t call me that.”
Seven years old.
His voice tiny.
“Leo, I love you.”
My son looked at the little girl in Celeste’s arms.
“Do you love her too?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her about me?”
Luca froze.
Mia answered innocently.
“Daddy said I have a brother.”
Everyone stopped.
Leo stared.
“You knew?”
Mia nodded.
“I have a picture.”
My stomach turned.
Luca had shown Mia Leo.
He had let his daughter know about her brother.
But Leo had been denied the same truth.
Why?
Because Mia was too young to expose him?
Because Celeste knew Leo existed as “the son from his first marriage”?
The asymmetry was cruel.
Leo whispered:
“What picture?”
Mia looked at Celeste.
Celeste looked sick.
“One Luca showed us.”
“Dad has pictures of me there?”
“Yes,” Celeste whispered.
Leo began shaking.
I held him.
“We’re leaving.”
This time nobody stopped.
As we walked away, Celeste called my name.
“Elena.”
I turned.
She removed the engagement ring completely.
Then held it out to Luca.
“I need the case number.”
He stared.
“What?”
“The divorce.”
Her voice hardened.
“The case number. The court. Everything.”
Luca said:
“Celeste.”
“If I was stupid enough to believe you, I’m at least going to find out exactly what I believed.”
Then she looked at me.
“I’ll send you every document he gave me.”
I studied her.
“You have my number?”
“No.”
I gave Priya? No, lawyer not yet. Let's have business card? I gave email.
I wrote my email on airport receipt.
She took.
Luca looked at me like I had committed betrayal.
That almost made me laugh.
Then Rosa hissed:
“You two are going to destroy children over adult mistakes.”
I turned.
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“Adults already made the mistakes.”
I looked at Mia.
Then Leo.
“The children are the reason we stop lying now.”
We left.
I rented a car because I refused to board return flight with Luca.
Leo slept most of drive back to Indianapolis.
His toy plane remained zipped inside backpack.
Halfway home, he woke.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you still married?”
My throat closed.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
Exactly.
“I’m going to find out.”
He looked out window.
Then:
“Did Dad divorce me too?”
I nearly drove off road from grief.
“No.”
“Then why did he make another family?”
I had no answer.
“I don’t know.”
That evening, after Leo slept in my bed, I searched public court records.
Luca Romano v. Elena Romano.
There it was.
Filed eighteen months earlier in a county forty miles away.
Petitioner:
Luca.
Respondent:
Elena.
Status:
DISSOLUTION GRANTED.
Fourteen months ago.
I clicked.
My hands shook.
Service address:
214 West Mercer Street, Apartment 5B.
I had never lived there.
Proof of service:
PERSONAL SERVICE ACCEPTED.
Signature:
Elena Romano.
Not mine.
Then marital settlement agreement.
Signature:
Elena Romano.
Also not mine.
I scrolled.
Property division.
Luca retained:
His retirement account.
Airline pension rights.
Romano Aviation Consulting LLC.
Chicago condominium interest.
I retained:
Marital residence subject to existing indebtedness.
Existing indebtedness?
I opened exhibit.
Home equity line:
$418,000.
Borrower:
Luca Romano and Elena Romano.
My signature.
Forged.
The proceeds were listed as already distributed by mutual agreement.
My heart pounded.
Then custody.
Leo’s primary residence:
with Elena.
Luca:
parenting time by mutual informal arrangement.
Child support:
$640 monthly.
I had never received a child-support payment because Luca still lived with us.
According to court, I was raising Leo as divorced mother.
According to real life, his father came home, slept beside me, used my groceries, and let me pay half our bills.
Then I saw the document that made my blood run cold.
Waiver of retirement-spouse benefits.
I allegedly waived any claim to Luca’s airline pension and survivor benefit.
Signed.
Witnessed.
By:
Rosa Romano.
May you like
His mother.
The woman who had eaten lasagna at my table six days earlier had sworn she watched me sign away my rights in a divorce I did not know existed.
