Page 18 of The Marriage Debt

“I need five minutes,” I say.

“You’re taking a risk.”

“I know what I’m doing.” My heart is racing, sweat dampening my underarms. Mateo will skin me alive if he finds out I have a phone to contact the outside world. All communications pass through him—a rule I can't follow.

Her voice is quieter when she responds, and I hear the click of a pen followed by the rustle of paper being moved. She’s working. Always. That’s never changed. “They’re refiling today,” she says. “An emergency petition. Coercion, undue pressure, manipulation. They’re calling the marriage fraudulent.”

“They can’t prove that,” I say, but I wonder if they can. If she would. Mother doesn't seem to understand who she's fighting against. She tried this once before, when Lev was first born. Anton taught her why she shouldn't mess with a Rossi, but maybe she forgot. Or maybe she thinks Mateo is a pushover.

“They don’t have to. They just have to convince the court that you didn’t want it.” I picture Marcella's prim lips in a tight line, eyes narrowed. She loves me. I know she does. She's the only true family I have—her and Lev.

I press my palm against the side of the sink. The porcelain is cold and damp, and the metal fixtures are fogging over from the heat of the water. My stomach twists in slow, deliberate turns, but I keep my voice steady.

“What evidence do they have?”

“They’ve already submitted a timeline. No public record of the engagement. No ceremony. Just signatures. Someone leaked the license. It was dated before the meeting with the mediator, but they say it wasn't signed until after. They’re calling it premeditated control. They think you're under duress.”

“They want Lev.” My mind is numb. For the first time in her life, my mother is acting like she cares. She has all the facts right but she doesn't seem to notice that I'm actually under duress. Her investigators can see it, but all she wants is my son.

“They want to win,” she says. “Lev is leverage. He’s not a child to them. He’s a chess piece with your blood in his veins and a last name they don’t want on paper next to Rossi.”

The water drips onto the floor. I turn off the tap but don’t move. I stare at the drain, waiting for the sound to stop. There's a clog somewhere down the line… Reminds me of how I feel stuck here, unable to flow with the wind or my emotion. Mateo has clogged my flow. Goddammit.

“If this works, they’ll dissolve the marriage?”

“They’ll say it was never valid to begin with.” Marcella sighs, and I sink to the edge of the bathtub and sit. I don't know why they're doing this. Mother doesn’t really want Lev. She just wants to prove she's right and that I made bad choices. If she were any mother at all, she would welcome me home and help me fix my fucking mistakes. I know they're real.

“And custody goes back on the table?”

Marcella exhales slowly. “They’ve already submitted their preferred guardian. A private school placement. Residential. Supervised transition.”

“They can’t do that.” My eyes water, but I refuse to cry. I won't let Lev be used as a pawn to destroy my life. He won't be loved or nurtured there. He needs me.

“They already are.” She sighs again and says, "Look, Lila, come home. Find a way to get out of there and come home. Show your mother that you are a good parent. Come live with me. I'll help. I can?—"

I hang up before she can say anything else. I take out the SIM card, break it in half, and flush both it and the battery. The phone follows. It clatters against the bowl on the way down, but I watch it go. When the water settles, I unlock the door and rinse my face in the sink with what’s left of the warm water.

Downstairs, Lev is sitting at the piano bench playing single notes with one finger. His tongue sticks out slightly when he concentrates. It's adorable, and if I weren't so upset, I would happily stand and watch him. I walk past without stopping and head toward the dining room.

Mateo's already seated at the table, sleeves rolled halfway to the elbow, eating without hurry. Lev’s plate is half cleared, but he’s rushed off before he finished. I take my place across from Mateo and unfold the napkin. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t look up. I force down three bites of something I don’t taste and watch his hand move from glass to fork and back again.

Midway through the meal, I set my fork down and fix my gaze on his.

“If the court challenges the marriage, what happens to Lev?” My voice is trembling because I need help, and I don't know where to turn. Anton would never have helped me, but for some fucking reason, this asshole seems to want to, even if it's for his own selfish gain. Mateo wants Lev for some reason, but I'm not blind. Even I can see the difference between the Rossi brothers. Mateo cares for Lev and doesn’t treat him harshly. That's not fatherly affection, but it's better than he’d get with my mother.

He doesn’t pause. He cuts through his food and lifts it to his mouth before answering. “They won’t challenge it.” His voice is monotone, undisturbed.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“If they do, the custody order dissolves.” His eyes snap to mine, sharp and edgy. He's not in the mood for my chatter, but I need help.

“And?” My throat feels like it's catching, choking me. Marcella's words haunt me. Mother is still coming after Lev and I can't stop her.

“Then I fight for him alone.” I don't know what "alone" means, but I conjure images of my mother lying in a pool of her own blood and it makes me sick to the stomach. I swallow hard and try not to blink.

My stomach twists, but I hold his gaze. “So you already knew they were filing.”

“Yes.” He is so fucking calm. How does he stay so calm when I'm so angry?

---