Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
I had imagined confronting Bianca would make me feel powerful.
Instead, it made me feel tired.
For eight years, I had built my days around making Adrian's life easier. Now I was spending my mornings protecting a medical appointment from a woman who wasn't even part of my family.
Naomi advised me not to call Bianca directly.
“You can ask Adrian to address what happened at his office,” she said. “But keep the evidence with the clinic and let the appropriate people investigate. We shouldn't give her a chance to argue that you harassed her.”
I knew she was right.
I didn't like how sensible everything had to be while other people behaved outrageously.
On Monday, I moved into a rented apartment on a quiet street away from the Romano residence. It was smaller than the kitchen I'd left behind. Its windows faced a courtyard with one stubborn tree, and the bedroom had room for a bed and a desk but little else.
I loved it immediately.
There were no men with earpieces in the hallway.
There was no separate refrigerator stocked with whatever Adrian's doctor had forbidden him to eat.
I could leave a cup in the sink without wondering whether someone would ask me why it hadn't been put away.
I bought groceries for one, then stood in the produce aisle and cried because I couldn't remember the last time I'd selected dinner based entirely on what I wanted.
My phone rang while I was unpacking.
It was Tomas.
“Mrs. Romano, Mr. Romano asked me to report the results of the access review directly to you.”
I sat down.
“The household office computer had a saved session to your shared calendar service,” he said. “It didn't show your private medical account. But someone had forwarded an appointment notice from an old household email alias.”
“Who?”
“We traced the forwarding rule to the office workstation. Ms. DeLuca was given temporary access last month when Mr. Romano told staff she could handle some personal arrangements.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Adrian had given Bianca access to the systems I had maintained for years because he was too busy to manage them himself.
It was not proof Bianca had sent the envelope. It was proof she could have seen the notice, which the clinic's automatic reminder had mistakenly routed to the old alias.
“Has the access been removed?” I asked.
“Yes. The passwords have been reset. Mr. Romano also instructed us to preserve all records.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Tomas hesitated.
“Mrs. Romano, I owe you an apology. You used to remind me when my daughter had exams. I didn't understand how much you were managing for everyone.”
I looked around my half-unpacked apartment.
“You don't owe me an apology for that,” I said. “Just don't share anything about where I am.”
“I won't.”
Adrian called later that afternoon.
“Bianca says she was trying to protect me,” he said.
“From a doctor's appointment?”
“She claims she thought you were using the pregnancy to force a financial settlement.”
“And canceling my appointment would accomplish what?”
“She couldn't answer that.”
I let the silence stand.
“Did you tell her about the baby?” I asked.
“Not before Friday. I found out from Naomi.”
“Then why was she looking at notices sent earlier?”
“Because I let her into our household office.”
He sounded as though the words tasted bitter.
“I told her she can no longer come to the house,” he added. “I've revoked her access to my office and my accounts.”
That mattered.
It didn't erase anything.
“Adrian, you don't have to explain Bianca to me.”
“I owe you an explanation.”
“You owe me the truth about decisions that affect me and our child. You can keep the excuses.”
He went quiet.
Naomi arranged for the clinic's records and the original envelope to be documented, and she sent a formal notice requesting no further contact from Bianca. We weren't claiming a crime had been proved. We were insisting my medical information was not hers to manage.
That evening, Lucia came to the apartment with soup in a container and a small bag of oranges. I almost laughed at how ordinary the gesture was.
“Adrian told me not to arrive without permission,” she said through the door. “I called Naomi, and she said you agreed.”
I opened it.
Lucia looked around the small apartment with curiosity, but not disgust.
“It feels peaceful,” she said.
“It is.”
We ate together at the tiny kitchen table. For once, she asked about my work, my appetite, the books beside my bed. She did not ask whether I would forgive her son.
Before she left, she reached into her purse and produced a small notebook.
“Years ago, I gave Adrian this when his father died. It lists the people who were meant to look after him, and the responsibilities he was supposed to take for himself.”
I recognized the plain blue cover. I'd seen it in his desk but had never opened it.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because I found it today, untouched. Eight years ago, he was supposed to learn how to be a husband. Instead, he allowed you to become his entire household.”
I handed it back.
“That lesson belongs to him.”
Lucia studied me for a long moment.
Then she smiled sadly and put the notebook away.
A minute after she left, I received a message from Naomi.
The clinic had checked its call recording and verified the caller had used Bianca's name when asked for a contact reference. The person had claimed that the appointment was unnecessary because Elena Romano would be leaving the city.
I read the message twice.
I had never said I was leaving Chicago.
May you like
Someone had tried to make a medical decision for me by announcing a departure I hadn't planned.
And for the first time, I wondered how much of my future Bianca had already decided without my consent.
