Chapter Six: Missing Pieces

Romano’s POV

“Aria?”

Silence followed, I got no response, my grip tightened around the phone.

“Aria.”

When she finally spoke, her voice barely sounded like hers.

“Someone was watching us.”

Every instinct I had sharpened instantly.

“What do you mean?”

“I found a photograph.”

She paused.

“Of us.”

I was already moving toward the door.

“Dante.”

He looked up immediately.

“Get the car.”

His expression changed the moment he saw mine.

“What happened?”

“Someone got into Aria’s apartment.”

The room went silent and within seconds we were moving. I returned the phone to my ear.

“Aria, listen carefully.”

“I’m listening.”

“Are you still inside the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Leave.”

My tone left no room for argument.

“Go downstairs and wait outside the building.”

A small pause followed.

“Okay.”

“Don’t touch anything else.”

“I said okay.”

For some reason, hearing her answer that way brought a small amount of relief.

“Stay where people can see you. I’ll be there soon.”

Then I ended the call, Dante glanced at me from across the vehicle.

“You think it’s connected to the wedding?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately, because weddings didn’t explain surveillance photographs no matter how big, someone had to have been watching Aria before she ever met me.

The question was why.

Ten minutes later I found her sitting in the building lobby, she looked exhausted, not physically but emotionally, like someone who had spent years carrying weight she couldn’t explain.

The moment she saw me, something in her posture relaxed, only slightly but enough for me to notice. I didn’t comment on it, instead, I crouched in front of her.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed once, she sounded broken.

“No.”

Honest, I respected that.

“Show me the photograph.”

Her hands trembled as she handed it over, I studied it carefully, long lens, professional distance, clean angle; whoever took it knew what they were doing, professional.

Dante looked over my shoulder, his expression darkened.

“This wasn’t random.”

“No.”

I turned the photograph over, the message remained exactly as she described.

YOU SHOULD HAVE MARRIED LUCA.

Interesting because it was not

Go back to Luca.

Or

We miss you.

Or

Come home.

The wording bothered me, it sounded more like an instruction than heartbroken; like someone believed she made the wrong move and wanted to teach her a lesson. I slipped the photograph into my jacket.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

Aria hesitated.

“I don’t want to see it again.”

“You need to.”

She looked away, for a moment I thought she’d refuse but then she nodded.

The apartment told its own story. There was nothing valuable missing, nothing expensive taken; there were no signs of rushed movement.

Whoever entered had all the time they needed, that meant confidence, and planning, they most likely knew I would take her to my house last night.

One of my men finished checking the bedrooms.

“Nothing.”

Another emerged from the kitchen.

“Same.”

Dante folded his arms.

“They weren’t looking for money.”

“No.”

I watched Aria carefully, she stood near the window with her arms wrapped around herself; she was silent and she looked like she was thinking.

“What?” I asked.

Her eyes moved toward me, then away, then back again, as though she were debating whether to say something.

Finally, she spoke.

“This isn’t the first time.”

The room went quiet.

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed

“Not my home being raided”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I mean strange things have been happening the past few months.”

Dante exchanged a glance with me.

“Explain.”

Aria looked down.

“Whenever I tried learning about my parents, something went wrong.”

I remained silent, letting her continue.

“Records disappeared.”

Her voice grew stronger with each sentence.

“People stopped answering questions.”

She laughed bitterly.

“One woman actually told me she remembered helping with my adoption.”

A pause.

“The next week she claimed we’d never met.”

Interesting, very interesting.

Aria continued.

“I always convinced myself I was imagining it.”

“You thought it was coincidence.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes filled with frustration.

“Because what else was I supposed to think?”

Nobody answered. She looked around the destroyed apartment.

“Then yesterday happened.”

The wedding, the messages, the break-in, the photograph, everything has to be connected somehow or at least she believed they were. For the first time since meeting her, I found myself asking a different question.

Not:

Who is threatening Aria?

But:

Who is Aria?

Because normal people didn’t have pieces of their childhood erased, normal people didn’t have surveillance photographs taped to their windows and most definitely normal people didn’t have records that vanished. Something about her history was wrong and not knowing was dangerous.

Later that evening, I took Aria back to the penthouse. She was too exhausted to argue and halfway through the drive she fell asleep.

The sight surprised me, people rarely slept around me, they couldn’t, everyone always seemed uptight, I’ve only experienced a difference with Dante now Aria. I looked away before the thought could linger.

Once we arrived, Dante helped settle security around the building, then he joined me in my office. I poured a drink while he remained standing; neither of us spoke immediately.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“Find out everything.”

Dante nodded.

“I already started.”

“Good.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“I want her records.”

“Already requested.”

“School records.”

“Working on it.”

“Medical history.”

Dante nodded again and left.

—————————————————————————————-

A few hours later Dante came back to my office holding an open file. A faint frown was visible on his face and that caught my attention.

“What?”

He hesitated, that was something Dante rarely did.

“What?”

He exhaled slowly.

“There’s a problem.”

I set the glass of whiskey I was holding down.

“What kind of problem?”

His expression remained unusually serious.

“The records don’t make sense.”

That got my attention.

“Explain.”

Dante stepped forward and placed the file on my desk; the file was thin, far thinner than it should have been.

“That’s everything?”

“No.”

His eyes met mine.

“That’s the problem.”

I opened the file, the information inside was incomplete; there were missing years, missing locations, missing documentations and huge gaps, it didn’t make sense; as if entire sections of her life had been removed.

I looked up.

“What am I looking at?”

Dante’s jaw tightened.

“For someone who lived in multiple foster homes, there should be hundreds of records.”

I flipped another page, nothing made sense, another, nothing made sense.

A growing sense of unease settled over me.

“What are you saying?”

Dante remained silent for several seconds, then finally spoke.

“Either someone spent years cleaning up Aria Vale’s history…”

He paused.

“And?”

His expression darkened.

“Or Aria Vale isn’t who she thinks she is.”

The office fell silent and for the first time since meeting her, I wasn’t thinking about the threats, or the wedding or the photograph. I was thinking about the possibility that the woman sleeping under my roof had secrets she didn’t even know existed, she might not be who she thinks she is.