Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO HAD NEVER BEEN CHOSEN
Vincent Moretti had spent most of his life believing love was conditional.
His father loved him when he obeyed.
His mother loved him when he made the family look respectable.
His grandmother loved him when he protected the Moretti name.
Sophia loved him until someone offered her money.
And Claire…
Claire had been different.
She argued with him.
Laughed at his terrible jokes.
Stole food from his plate.
And once told him that his expensive suits made him look like a funeral director.
He married her because his grandmother wanted him settled.
That was the explanation he gave everyone.
But the truth was more complicated.
He had met Claire at a hospital fundraiser.
She was twenty-six.
Working as an event coordinator.
He watched her argue with a wealthy donor who had insulted a nurse.
Most people feared Vincent.
Claire barely looked at him.
When he introduced himself, she said, “Congratulations.”
He frowned.
“For what?”
“For knowing your own name.”
He laughed.
It was the first time he'd laughed in weeks.
They began seeing each other.
Claire never asked about his business.
Never pretended his wealth didn't matter.
And never treated him like a king.
Vincent found himself looking forward to her calls.
Then his grandmother became ill.
She asked him to marry.
Claire agreed.
Their marriage was practical.
Comfortable.
Strangely peaceful.
But Vincent never told Claire he loved her.
Because love made people vulnerable.
And vulnerability was dangerous.
Then Sophia returned.
His mother encouraged him to reconsider his marriage.
She said Claire was unsuitable.
That Sophia came from the right family.
That Vincent had made a mistake.
And Vincent, still grieving his grandmother, began believing that Claire deserved a life away from his dangerous world.
He convinced himself divorce was kindness.
He offered millions.
Claire refused.
Asked for one favor.
And left.
Now Vincent stood in his empty mansion staring at the wedding photograph on the mantel.
Claire was smiling.
He wasn't.
Not because he was unhappy.
Because he had never learned how to look happy in photographs.
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He touched the frame.
Then whispered, “I was a fool.”
