Chapter 4 - THE SUNNY ILLUSION IN MIAMI: HOW LUCA RAISED A GLASS TO HIS OWN RUIN
Three hundred miles away in Sunny South Beach, Miami, the morning sun was bathing the luxury penthouse balcony of the Delano Hotel in brilliant, golden warmth.
Luca Hails leaned back against plush white cushions, wearing designer sunglasses, a silk cabana shirt, and holding a crystal glass filled with expensive mimosas.
Across the table, his mother, Wendy, adjusted her oversized sun hat and beamed with maternal pride. “Oh, Luca, darling, this view is simply breathtaking. I told Stephanie the moment we boarded that first-class flight: my son has finally arrived in the upper echelons of society.”
Stephanie, Luca’s younger sister, swirled her champagne flute and nodded eagerly. “Honestly, Luca, it’s about time you took total control of that house on Redwood Crest Drive. Jessi was getting far too comfortable acting like she owned the place just because her name was on the initial paperwork. A husband is the head of the household, period.”
Luca smirked, taking a long sip of his mimosa as he checked his phone. There were no missed calls from me—only because he had blocked my primary number temporarily to ensure I couldn't ruin his weekend getaway with postpartum complaints about the baby or the house.
“Jessi is probably at home right now realizing she can't even get past the smart gate without my permission,” Luca laughed, shaking his head. “She thinks her corporate little brain makes her invincible. But she needed a reality check. She needed to understand that without me managing her schedule and keeping her grounded, she’s completely helpless.”
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“Exactly,” Wendy agreed, dabbing her lips with a linen napkin. “A woman with a newborn baby has no business holding onto sole real estate titles anyway. It’s unseemly. When we fly back on Tuesday, we’ll sit her down and have a civilized conversation about adding your name to the deed. By summer, the estate will officially be the Hails family compound.”
Luca raised his mimosa glass toward the sparkling blue ocean waters of the Atlantic, completely unaware that while he was drinking to his supposed total victory, his wife was currently signing a legally binding cash-sale contract that would render his imaginary empire into nothing more than expensive dust.
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