Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Rose Dress
The photograph could not be real.
Sophia knew that.
Her mother, Isabella Bianchi, had been buried eight years ago.
Sophia had stood beside the grave.
She had watched her father lower a white rose onto the coffin.
Yet the woman in the security footage had Isabella’s eyes.
Her walk.
The habit of touching her hair behind her left ear.
Antonio sat down.
“No.”
Sophia turned on him.
“You recognize her.”
“No.”
“You just said no like you saw a ghost.”
“Because your mother is dead.”
Alessandro enlarged the image.
The footage was grainy.
The woman turned partially toward the camera.
Sophia’s certainty weakened.
Similar.
Not identical.
Elena was brought to the house forty minutes later.
Her dress was torn at one shoulder.
She ran directly to Sophia.
For half a second, Sophia stood rigid.
Then Elena collapsed against her.
Sophia held her.
Family could wound you and still activate instincts older than anger.
“You’re safe,” Sophia whispered.
Elena cried harder.
Later, wrapped in a blanket, Elena told them everything.
Daniel had convinced her that Sophia’s wedding was a business arrangement.
He said he had fallen in love with Elena accidentally.
He said they would leave after the wedding was canceled.
But Elena discovered the file.
Inside was a photograph of their mother standing beside Vittorio.
There was also a letter.
“What letter?” Sophia asked.
Elena swallowed.
“Mom wrote it.”
Antonio looked stricken.
“To whom?”
“Sophia.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Elena continued.
“It said, ‘If Sophia ever sees this, then Antonio failed to keep her out of it.’”
Sophia looked at her father.
He could barely meet her eyes.
“What else?”
“I didn’t finish. Daniel caught me.”
“And the woman at the warehouse?”
Elena’s hands began shaking.
“I saw her.”
Sophia moved closer.
“Was it Mom?”
Elena started crying again.
“No.”
Sophia exhaled.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. But she looked enough like Mom that Daniel called her Isabella.”
Antonio whispered something in Italian.
Alessandro heard.
“What?”
Antonio stood.
“We need the photograph.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella had a sister.”
Sophia stared.
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“You told us Mom was an only child.”
“I lied.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Apparently that’s the family motto.”
Antonio flinched.
Sophia did not defend him.
“Her name?”
“Valentina.”
V.
Sophia thought of the initials.
V.M.C.
“Valentina Mancini?”
Antonio nodded.
Elena whispered, “Mom’s sister married Vittorio?”
“No.”
Antonio looked toward the dark windows.
“She was Vittorio’s first wife.”
The room fell silent.
Sophia suddenly understood why Vittorio had looked at her as though he knew her.
Her mother and his former wife were sisters.
“What happened to Valentina?”
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“After Isabella died.”
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“Why didn’t my father tell me?”
Antonio gave a hollow laugh.
“Carlo had secrets too.”
Sophia looked between them.
Two families.
Two dead parents.
A missing aunt.
Millions of dollars.
And Daniel somewhere in the middle.
“What does Vittorio want?”
Antonio answered.
“The evidence.”
“No. He could have killed you years ago and taken the key.”
Antonio looked at Sophia.
That was when she knew.
“It isn’t the evidence.”
Her father said nothing.
“It’s me.”
Alessandro moved slightly closer.
Antonio whispered, “Your mother put something in your name.”
“What?”
“I never knew.”
Sophia stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“She changed the trust shortly before she died.”
“Then find the documents.”
“We tried.”
Alessandro looked toward the brass key.
“Box 317.”
Sophia understood.
Whatever Isabella had left her was inside.
By morning, Alessandro’s legal team traced the original deposit institution.
A private bank in Lugano.
The box still existed.
Registered under a trust.
Sophia’s trust.
She could access it in person.
Alessandro wanted security.
Sophia wanted answers.
They left for Switzerland that afternoon.
Elena remained with Antonio under protection.
On the flight, Sophia sat opposite Alessandro.
For nearly an hour, neither spoke.
Finally she asked, “Why didn’t you marry?”
His eyebrow lifted.
“That question arrived unexpectedly.”
“You know nearly everything about my romantic disaster.”
“Fair.”
He looked through the window.
“I came close once.”
“What happened?”
“She wanted the Moretti name more than she wanted me.”
Sophia winced.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because finding out before the wedding is cheaper.”
Sophia laughed.
Actually laughed.
Alessandro smiled.
She looked at him.
Seven years earlier, he had carried centerpieces with her in Boston.
He had seemed lighter then.
But the same man existed underneath.
“You really remembered me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His gaze held hers.
“You thanked every waiter at that gala by name.”
“That’s what you remembered?”
“You also threatened a donor with a centerpiece.”
“He grabbed a waitress.”
“He never did it again.”
Sophia smiled.
Then grew serious.
“And Daniel?”
“What about him?”
“Did he know you remembered me?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Before he dated me?”
Alessandro hesitated.
“Yes.”
That hurt differently.
“Was I competition?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have wondered.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I hoped I was wrong.”
Sophia leaned back.
Daniel had always competed with his brother.
Cars.
Business.
Their father’s approval.
Had Sophia been another trophy?
The plane landed after sunset.
At the hotel, Sophia was given a suite adjoining Alessandro’s.
She noticed the connecting door.
He noticed her noticing.
“It locks from your side.”
Of course it did.
Choice.
Always choice.
At midnight Sophia could not sleep.
She opened the balcony door.
Alessandro stood on the neighboring balcony.
He looked over.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Neither can I.”
They stood beneath the same darkness.
Separated by stone.
“Alessandro?”
“Yes?”
“If Daniel hadn’t cheated…”
He waited.
“Would you ever have told me?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
“Never?”
“You had chosen him.”
Sophia looked down.
“And now?”
“Now you’ve chosen no one.”
His voice was gentle.
“I intend to respect that.”
Her eyes burned.
She had not realized how badly she needed to hear it.
The next morning, they entered the private bank.
Box 317 was brought into a secure room.
Sophia inserted the brass key.
Inside lay a leather folder, a flash drive, and a sealed envelope.
Her name was written across it in her mother’s handwriting.
Sophia’s hands shook.
She opened the envelope.
The first line read:
My darling Sophia, if you are reading this, Vittorio has returned.
She continued.
Then stopped.
Alessandro saw the blood leave her face.
“What?”
Sophia handed him the letter.
Halfway down the page, Isabella had written one sentence in capital letters.
DANIEL MORETTI MUST NEVER KNOW WHO HIS REAL FATHER IS.
Footsteps stopped outside the secure room.
Someone tried the handle.
May you like
Then Daniel’s voice came through the door.
“Sophia, open it.”
