Meeting the seamstress should have settled everything.
That was what Adrian thought.
Standing before the tall window of his study, he watched the rain continue to pour down.
Even after meeting her, the unease wouldn’t leave him.
He had seen her, held her, felt her against his body.
Everything about her said she wasn’t Sarah, but his gut said otherwise.
Her eyes, her hair, her thick accent from Bellavere were details he couldn’t ignore.
He had replayed the fitting in his mind.
The way she moved, the way she looked at him.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Not Sarah.
But the seamstress with the wrong eyes, hair color, and name.
He didn’t know which was worse—that she reminded him of his dead wife, or that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Something about Emelia Larson was off.
He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Adrian sat down and ran a hand over his face.
A half-empty whiskey bottle sat close to his desk.
‘You’re truly losing your mind, Adrian.’
There were a few resemblances between them, but she wasn’t Sarah.
Why was he even chasing his dead wife in another woman?
In the end, he decided to leave the seamstress be.
After all, it was his grief playing tricks on him.
He had chased ghosts before.
After Sarah died, he had looked for her everywhere.
It had passed eventually.
This would too.
He took the folder containing Emelia Larson’s file and put it inside the top drawer of his desk.
He needed to move forward.
Sarah wouldn’t come back.
For the following week, he drowned himself in work.
Being a Don had never left him with free time.
Contracts, negotiations, meetings.
He went through it, but at the end of the day, his thoughts always ended up with the seamstress at Arlington Drive.
Calvin arrived at his office one morning delivering the usual reports.
Adrian noticed his hesitation.
“Do you have something to say?” he asked.
Calvin straightened up.
Adrian hadn’t ordered him anything related to the seamstress and her children for a week.
He wasn’t sure if the information he received was still wanted.
“We received reports that Miss Larson’s children were spotted at the commercial plaza nearby.
They were selling their usual goods.”
Adrian’s pen stopped midair.
He had gone a week without asking about the seamstress and her children.
It took one sentence to undo all of it.
“Are they causing trouble?”
“No, sir.
They don’t.
In fact, their little business seems to be doing better there.”
“Then let them be, so long as they won’t cause trouble.”
Calvin lowered his head, then left.
Adrian stared at the door for a long time.
He wanted to ask more, but he didn’t.
Three days later, Adrian stepped out of the Moretti Tower to inspect the commercial plaza where the Moretti family’s legitimate businesses were.
The morning was slow and uneventful.
He knew his mother had arranged this.
She always did.
A lunch meeting.
An opportunity to remind him of his obligations.
He could have refused.
He’d already sent her a warning a few weeks ago.
But he wanted to see what she would try next.
For lunch, he had to share a table with his mother.
They met at the Rosetta’s and occupied the private booth his mother always booked.
“Where have you been these days, Ian?” Cecilia asked as she cut the steak on her plate.
“Nothing you have to worry about, Mother,” Adrian replied, picking up his glass to drink.
Cecilia watched him.
Her son had kept his distance from her lately.
He had sent her a warning, and she took it well.
“Angelica went back to Etolia.
She said she’d been looking forward to the event.”
Adrian hummed and said nothing.
“Dear, Angelica had been traveling back and forth.
You have to give her some credit.
This union would surely benefit both our families.”
She was pushing.
She never pushed this hard.
Something must have changed.
“If you don’t want to lose all the liberties and perks you enjoy now, I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself, Mother.”
Cecilia’s hands trembled.
The steak knife she was holding clanked loudly against the plate.
Adrian had never threatened her openly before.
The son she tried so hard to control was slipping out of her hands.
He had felt it for weeks.
The distance and coldness he put between them.
Now he looked at her like a stranger, not his mother.
“I was just worried about you, Ian.
You’ve been alone for seven long years.
Don’t you think it’s time for you to move on?”
“Shouldn’t you be happy?” Adrian met her gaze.
“Sarah isn’t here anymore, but don’t think for one second that I’ll marry any woman of your choosing.
Don’t let me make you and Father retire for good.”
He said her name.
The name that hung between them for ages like a ghost.
Cecilia flinched.
She couldn’t help it.
“So you’re satisfied living like this?
Like an empty shell waiting to die at any moment?
I’m still your mother, Adrian!
I told you that Sarah De Luca was bad news.
Her family’s enemies are closing in, and look what happened!”
Adrian looked up and placed his glass on the table.
It was rare for his mother to lose composure like this.
“I know what I’m facing when I choose to be with her,” he replied.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“But you don’t,” he added.
“You never did.”
Cecilia pushed her seat back and stood.
Her hands were shaking.
Her face was pale.
“This isn’t over, Adrian.”
Adrian met her eyes.
“It is if you want it to be.”
She turned and walked away.
Adrian watched her go and didn’t stop her.
He finished the meal alone and wiped his hands before leaving.
Calvin came over and told him the afternoon itinerary.
Adrian listened as they stepped out of the restaurant.
A commotion was breaking out.
“I didn’t get your wallet!”
A familiar voice reached Adrian’s ears.
He knew that voice.
He stopped walking.
Calvin stopped behind him.
They turned toward the sound.
“You’re the one who bumped into me!
Stop lying!” a grown man yelled back.
“Mister, my brother really didn’t take your money.
Maybe you’ve dropped it somewhere else,” a soft, gentle voice of a young girl chimed in.
“You’re the one who was careless with your money, and now you’re blaming us!
Mister!
We might be young, but we’re not stupid!”
Adrian moved closer and saw Alec.
The young boy faced the grown-up man, while Abby held onto her brother’s arm, tears brimming in her eyes.
Adrian had seen enough violence to last a lifetime.
He’d done his fair share and stood by while others did more.
But he had never been able to watch a child be hurt.
Not when he could stop it.
The man suddenly jerked and pulled Alec’s collar.
“What did you say?!”
“ALEC!” Abby screamed.
She then pounced toward the man, her small fist hitting his leg.
“Let go of my brother, you bad guy!
Bad guy!”
The man didn’t pay attention to her wailing and kept his focus on Alec, who was looking at him with defiance.
He lifted an arm, his hand clenched into a fist, and was about to strike the boy when someone held his arm, twisting it painfully.
“Release the boy.
Now!”