CHAPTER TWO: The Billionaire's return
1268 Words
The Manhattan skyline pierced the pale winter morning as Xavier De Luca’s private jet descended over JFK International Airport. Sunlight glinted off skyscrapers like silver teeth, a testament to the city’s hunger, a place where dreams were forged and devoured in the same breath.
Xavier leaned back in his leather seat, swirling the last of his espresso. His tailored suit was crisp, dark blue with just a hint of navy sheen, a De Luca signature. Everything about him exuded power and quiet precision. The world knew him as a ruthless billionaire investor, heir to one of the wealthiest families in Europe, and a man who could make or break fortunes with a single phone call.
But today, his return wasn’t about business. It was about unfinished business.
He stared out the window, jaw tense.
A year ago, he’d met a mysterious woman in Rome—a stranger behind a mask at his family’s masquerade. No names. Just heat. Intensity. One unforgettable night. And then she was gone. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Something about her haunted him. It wasn’t just lust—it was recognition.
He never found her again.
Until now.
Weeks ago, an encrypted email had arrived from a source he paid well. It included a photo—a woman stepping off a plane with a baby. She looked different: her hair was darker, and she was dressed modestly, but it was her. Isabella Moretti.
His gut had twisted when he saw her holding a child.
A child that could only be his.
Xavier’s fists clenched.
He didn’t betray. He didn’t do secrets. And he certainly didn’t take lightly to the idea that someone had stolen his heir.
He touched the gold signet ring on his right hand, the De Luca crest etched into it. His legacy mattered more than anything. His mother had died protecting it. His father had built an empire on blood and sacrifice.
If Isabella thought she could hide a child from him, she didn’t know him at all.
The plane touched down with a jolt.
“Welcome to New York, Mr. De Luca,” the flight attendant said.
He gave a nod and strode toward the exit.
His security team waited outside in black SUVs. He climbed into the first one, phone in hand.
“Track her. She’s in the Bronx, working at a small French bakery under the name Isabelle Rossi. She has the child with her,” his assistant said over the phone.
“Do not approach. I want eyes only. And make sure she doesn’t leave the city.”
“Yes, sir.”
The call ended.
Xavier leaned back, his mind spinning. New York was big, but she was cornered now. She couldn’t hide forever. Not from him.
And when he found her, he wanted answers. All of them.
---
The Bronx, New York
The bells over the door jingled as Isabella entered the bakery with Luca in her arms. The small shop smelled of butter, almond paste, and freshly brewed espresso. She tucked a lock of her now chestnut-colored hair behind her ear and gave a smile to Madame Eloise, the bakery’s owner.
“You’re early today, Isabelle,” the older Frenchwoman noted with a smile. “Sophia giving you trouble?”
Isabella smiled faintly. “No more than usual. I just… needed to start the day with something sweet.”
She placed the baby in a high chair behind the counter and pulled on her apron.
Her life had become small but safe. The bakery job barely paid enough, but it kept her off the radar. No one asked too many questions. No one cared that Isabelle Rossi appeared out of nowhere six months ago with a baby and no past.
But inside, Isabella knew it couldn’t last forever.
She looked out the frosted window, the feeling of being watched tugging at the edge of her thoughts. She'd changed her hair, her name, and even her walk. But sometimes, she still caught her reflection and saw Isabella Moretti—the woman who had once danced in diamonds and kissed a billionaire in moonlight.
And now?
She was just a mother with a secret.
She cleaned the counter, greeted customers, and served pastries while keeping an eye on Sophia. At eight months, he was the spitting image of Xavier—black hair, stormy eyes, and that same stubborn set of his jaw.
Her heart ached.
How could she keep hiding her?
She knew Xavier’s power, his reach. If he ever found them, he wouldn’t just demand the child. He’d take him. Legally. Swiftly. Without mercy.
Because Xavier De Luca didn’t lose.
---
Meanwhile, Manhattan—De Luca Enterprises Penthouse
The penthouse office stretched across the 52nd floor, wrapped in glass. The skyline shimmered as Xavier stood in front of the window, arms folded.
His assistant, Julian, entered. “We’ve tightened surveillance. She takes the subway. Same bakery routine. No male contacts. She rents a tiny apartment under a fake name. But her passport matches the woman from the Rome security footage.”
Xavier didn’t speak.
“Sir?”
“She’s hiding,” he said finally. “Which means she’s scared. She knows exactly what she did.”
Julian nodded. “What do you want to do?”
Xavier turned. “I want to see my daughter. And I want to know why she ran.”
---
Back in the Bronx
Isabella sat in the tiny apartment she shared with Sofia. The heater clanked as it groaned to life. She wrapped Sofia in a blanket and hummed to her, staring at the letter on the table.
It was from her aunt in Milan. Another warning. Xavier had been asking questions. Someone had been paid to dig.
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
“Come to London,” the letter said. “Bring the baby. You’ll be safe here.”
She couldn’t run again. Could she?
But the thought of Xavier standing at her door, demanding custody, chilled her.
She kissed Sofia’s forehead and whispered, “I won’t let him take you. Never.”
---
Later That Night—Xavier’s Private Suite
Xavier couldn’t sleep. His mind kept circling back to Isabella’s face, the baby’s eyes. His daughter. His blood.
He opened the file again. Surveillance photos. One showed her laughing with the child. Another with her arms wrapped around her in a mother’s protective hold.
He zoomed in.
The girl had his eyes.
His.
It wasn’t just a guess anymore. It was a fact.
He closed the laptop and picked up his phone. “Julian, prepare the legal documents. Custody. DNA testing. I want her served tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up and poured himself a drink.
If she thought she could keep his child hidden, she had no idea who she was dealing with.
---
Next Morning—Bronx Courthouse
Isabella was sweeping the shop floor when a man in a gray suit entered.
“Isabelle Rossi?”
She nodded warily.
“You’ve been served.” He handed her an envelope and walked out.
Her hands shook as she ripped it open.
It was a court order. Filed by Xavier De Luca. Requesting immediate DNA testing and full paternal rights.
She gasped.
He found them.
He knew.
Madame Eloise appeared behind her. “Isabelle? Are you alright?”
But Isabella was already running. Out the door. Toward the subway. Toward a plan she never thought she’d need to use.
She had to protect her child.
Even if it meant facing the man she had once loved and feared
- Writer
