Chapter 3

I learned later that Matteo was the first to stop in his tracks that night. He had just returned to the estate and still wore his suit jacket. As he entered the main hall, he heard someone call his name.

Matteo.

The voice was faint, as if it were coming from far away.

Matteo stood frozen. The man beside him asked what was wrong, but he didn't answer.

Then another voice sounded in his head.

You bought Elena a beach house last year. I've almost forgotten what the ocean smells like.

It wasn't Sophia's voice.

And what he'd just heard wasn't something anyone else should have known.

Matteo had bought the beach house as a 16th-birthday gift for "Elena." Sophia had casually mentioned over dinner that she wanted to see the ocean, and the very next day, he'd had his lawyer take care of the paperwork.

But before I turned eight, I was the one who had loved the ocean most.

I only learned all of this later, when Matteo sat outside my room and told me what had happened, piece by piece.

At the time, he said nothing. He simply turned and called out to the estate manager.

"Who's under the old house in the vineyard right now?"

The estate manager was taken aback.

"Wine. And a girl under the family's protection."

"Name."

"Eva."

"Who authorized keeping her there?"

The estate manager hesitated for two seconds.

"Mr. Caro."

At the same time, Luca was in the family meeting room. Several senior men had just arrived from the city and were seated across from him. The past few days' accounts and security plans were spread across the table.

Someone was halfway through his report when Luca suddenly raised a hand, silencing the room.

Then another voice sounded in his head.

Luca, you once told me that no one could take me away from you.

His pen froze in his hand.

No one dared ask.

A few seconds later, he stood up.

"This meeting is over."

"Don—"

"I said it's over."

Damian was in the security room. He heard me think, Someone keeps unplugging the camera at the very back of the old wine cellar. Every week.

He stared at the screen for a long time, then pulled up ten years' worth of camera malfunction reports for the old vineyard house.

Same location. Same problem. Far too often to be a coincidence.

Niccolo had just ended a call when a sentence I'd been forced to say began repeating in his head.

My name is Eva. I keep imagining I'm the Moretti family's daughter.

He immediately went looking for the identity restoration records from nine years ago.

What Gabriel heard was even simpler. I was counting how long it had been since I'd last felt the sun on my skin in broad daylight.

Leon stood outside the ballroom, watching the fireworks he'd personally arranged rise into the night sky, when he suddenly heard my thought.

Are they celebrating my birthday for her again?

Anthony was patrolling the outer perimeter with his men when he heard something a guard had once said: If she tries to force her way out again, treat her as an intruder.

Samuel was the last to hear me.

He'd had two drinks and was sitting on the second-floor balcony of the main house, still holding the fork he'd just snatched from Sophia.

Then he heard my thought about the blue music box. He'd given it to me for my seventh birthday. I'd complained that it sounded awful, and he'd been so mad he didn't speak to me for three days. On the fourth day, he'd secretly changed the tune himself.

By the time I saw the music box again, it had been smashed. Sophia threw the pieces into the fireplace and asked if I was upset about losing it.

Samuel hurled his glass to the floor.

None of them knew what was happening. None of them was willing to upend nine years of their lives based on nothing but a voice that had suddenly appeared in their heads.

Yet within minutes, all eight had asked about the same place: the old wine cellar.

By the time Luca came downstairs, Matteo was already in the main hall. Damian came over with a tablet, looking grim.

"There's a problem with the cameras at the old house."

Niccolo said, "There's a problem with the legal identity file from nine years ago, too." Anthony came in from outside.

"I heard someone say, 'If she rushes the door again, treat her as an intruder.'"

Samuel stared at the others.

"You heard it too?"

The hall fell silent. Sophia had just come down the stairs. She still wore the black gown, and when she saw all eight of them standing below, she slowed.

"What's going on?"

No one answered her. She took another step forward.

"Luca?"

Luca looked at her. His expression wasn't harsh, but Sophia later told Niccolo that it was the first time she had felt as though she didn't recognize this family. Luca gave only three orders.

"Lock down the estate."

"Disarm every guard outside the core security team."

"Anthony takes control of every underground entrance."

Everyone in the hall scattered. Sophia's expression changed.

"Why?"

Luca didn't explain.

"Go to your room."

"It's my birthday."

"Go to your room."

His tone was the same as always, but this time, he wasn't humoring her. Vito reacted faster than Sophia. He had been with the family for over 20 years and knew exactly what it meant when Luca locked down the estate. Before the first outer gate closed, he had already sent a message to his men. Anthony's later head count revealed that seven of the estate's guards were men Vito had planted over the years. Normally, they followed Moretti orders. That night, they followed Vito. Underground, I had no idea what was happening above me. All I could hear were the footsteps growing more frantic.

First, someone ran down the hallway. Then metal clashed. A gunshot rang out in the distance, and I pressed myself flat against the wall. A second shot followed. Then everything seemed to spiral out of control. Gunfire moved closer along the side of the estate, and I could hear glass shattering even through the thick walls. Someone shouted upstairs. Cars slammed on their brakes. Footsteps pounded across the stone steps, and even the ground seemed to shake.

Later, I saw the records from that night. Vito's men tried to escape along the side road by the vineyard, and Anthony sealed every exit. Several cars jammed the stone drive outside the main house, and nearly every window between the old house and the service courtyard shattered. Leon herded the remaining guests into the inner rooms of the main house. Matteo and Niccolo kept checking people and records as the shots rang out. Damian cut off the turncoat guards' access and marked every entrance to the old house for Anthony. That was how I learned that no one had charged down alone. For the first time, the Moretti estate was at war with itself, all because of a door that had remained hidden for nine years.

I had never imagined so many shots would be fired on the Moretti family's own estate, much less because someone was trying to reach me. The door flew open. Sophia burst in, all the color drained from her face.

"Get up."

I stayed still. She grabbed my arm.

"I said get up!"

She dragged me to the table. The tape recorder was still there. She pressed the button.

"Read it."

As I listened to the gunfire outside, I understood. Sophia was scared. This wasn't her usual fear of losing jewelry, a party, or a brother's attention. She was terrified that the door would open.

"My name is Eva." She stared at me. "Read it."

I looked at her.

"I always imagine I'm Miss Moretti."

I said nothing. Sophia clenched her jaw.

"You think they're coming?"

She snatched up the gun Vito had left for the guards. I stepped back on instinct. She didn't point it at me at once, but I still broke out in a cold sweat.

"A few gunshots, that's all," she said. "People die in this family every day."

Her voice was shaking.

"You really think nine years can be undone?"

I stared at the muzzle, my fingers curling into my palms. Before, whenever she pushed the recorder toward me, I had read the lines. Not because I had accepted the lie, but because I knew what would happen if I refused. That day, for the first time, I did not obey. In my head, I repeated the truth again and again. My name is Elena Moretti. My name is Elena Moretti. My name is Elena Moretti. A heavy thud came from outside. Sophia whipped her head around. The second thud was closer. Her gun hand trembled.

"Don't move."

I stayed still. At the third impact, the heavy underground door burst open. Anthony's men came through first, dressed in black with their weapons raised. They moved too quickly for me to follow. Sophia raised her gun on instinct. Anthony rushed in from the side at almost the same moment.

"Put it down!"

His voice thundered through the cramped cellar. Sophia froze. A second later, Luca appeared in the doorway. I hadn't seen him this close in nine years. He was taller and thinner than I remembered, and the impatient smile I had known as a little girl was gone. He remained in the doorway. His gaze went first to the gun in Sophia's hand, then to the tape recorder on the table, and finally to my face. The shooting outside had not stopped. People were shouting, someone was counting the wounded, and hurried footsteps filled the hallway.

I couldn't make out any of it. Luca stood rooted to the spot. I didn't know what he saw. Maybe it was my eyes, so much like my mother's. Maybe it was the scar on my left wrist. Maybe it was nothing at all. He stared, then took one slow step toward me. I shrank into the corner on instinct, and he stopped. He did not use the old family nickname. He did not say, "I finally found you." He did not ask where the pendant was. Instead, he crouched until his eyes were level with mine. When he spoke, his voice was so hoarse that it sounded nothing like the Luca I remembered.

He paused, as if he'd forgotten how to ask the rest of the question.

"Was that you just now, calling me your brother?"