Chapter 2: The Night Everything Ended
Three years earlier, I had been living in Chicago as Isabella Rossi, wife of Luca Moretti.
At the time, I believed I was happy. Luca was powerful, yes — dangerously so — but he had always been gentle with me. He worked long hours, but when he came home, he would pull me into his arms and tell me I was the only peace he had in his world.
I was naïve.
The night I found out, I had come home early from a work trip. I wanted to surprise him. I even bought his favorite wine on the way.
When I stepped into our penthouse, I heard laughter coming from our bedroom.
I remember standing in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of me like it was happening to someone else. My sister, Sophia, was in our bed — our bed — with her arms wrapped around my husband. Luca was kissing her neck, his hand on her waist.
Neither of them noticed me at first.
When Luca finally looked up and saw me standing there, the color drained from his face.
“Isabella—”
I didn’t let him finish.
I turned around and walked out.
I didn’t cry in the elevator. I didn’t scream in the parking garage. I drove to a cheap motel outside the city and sat on the edge of the bed for hours, staring at the wall.
The next morning, I went to the bank and withdrew every cent I had in my personal account. Then I bought a bus ticket to anywhere that wasn’t Chicago.
I changed my name to Mia Thompson in a small courthouse in Ohio. I cut my hair, dyed it darker, and moved to this quiet town in West Virginia where no one knew who I was.
Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.
I cried for three days straight.
I thought about calling Luca. I thought about telling him. But every time I picked up the phone, I remembered the image of him with my sister. And I couldn’t do it.
So I stayed hidden.
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I gave birth to the twins alone in a small hospital. I raised them alone. I built a life from nothing.
And now, three years later, he had found me.
