Chapter Five: The Photograph That Shouldn't Exist

Isabella stared at the photograph lying on Alessandro Romano's desk, struggling to understand how it had survived three years.

The image showed the ballroom of the Romano estate, crowded with wealthy guests and influential businessmen. Near the edge of the photograph stood a young woman wearing a pale dress, her face partially turned toward the camera.

It was unmistakably Isabella.

She remembered that evening too well.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice steady.

Alessandro leaned against his desk.

"From the security archive. Someone recently recovered several photographs that were missing from the original investigation."

Isabella swallowed.

"Perhaps you should ask whoever recovered them."

"I intend to."

His eyes remained fixed on her.

"But first, I want to know why you look frightened."

"I'm not frightened."

"Then explain why your hands are trembling."

Isabella immediately folded her arms.

"I don't appreciate being questioned about a photograph from three years ago. I came here to work."

Alessandro's expression hardened.

"And I hired you because I believed you were capable of handling confidential matters. Unfortunately, I have discovered that your personal history may be connected to an investigation that has occupied my attention for years."

She stared at him.

"What investigation?"

"The disappearance of a woman who attended this gathering."

Isabella felt the room tilt slightly.

Alessandro continued.

"She vanished the morning after the party. Nobody could explain why she left, and nobody could locate her afterward."

"Perhaps she had a reason."

"Perhaps."

He stepped closer.

"Do you know her?"

Isabella shook her head.

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Alessandro noticed.

He had spent years learning to recognize dishonesty, and Isabella's nervousness was becoming impossible to ignore.

"Look at me," he instructed.

She reluctantly raised her eyes.

"Have we met before that interview?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

For several seconds, Alessandro studied her face.

Then he unexpectedly closed the folder.

"Very well."

Isabella blinked.

"That's all?"

"For now."

She gathered her documents and hurried toward the door.

"Miss Moretti."

She stopped.

"Yes?"

"Your employment depends on honesty. I suggest you remember that."

She left without answering.

Marco entered the office shortly afterward.

"Did she recognize the photograph?"

Alessandro nodded.

"Immediately."

"Then she knows something."

"Yes."

Marco walked toward the window.

"Perhaps we should investigate her family."

"Already underway."

Alessandro opened another folder.

"Her parents are deceased. She lived in France for three years, and there is very little information about her activities during that period."

Marco frowned.

"That is unusual."

"Extremely."

He removed another document.

"There's something else. Isabella has a son."

Marco nodded.

"I met him."

"His birth certificate lists no father."

Alessandro's expression became unreadable.

"Find out why."

Marco hesitated.

"Alessandro, are you considering the possibility that the child is yours?"

The question remained unanswered.

For years, Alessandro had believed the woman from that night had deliberately disappeared to avoid him.

But now he was beginning to wonder whether he had misunderstood everything.

That afternoon, Isabella received a call from the childcare center.

Leonardo had developed a fever, and she needed to collect him immediately.

She informed the receptionist, gathered her belongings, and hurried toward the elevator.

Unfortunately, Alessandro was already waiting inside.

"Where are you going?"

"My son is ill."

His expression changed.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing serious, I hope."

Alessandro stepped aside.

"Take my car."

She shook her head.

"I can manage."

"Miss Moretti, don't waste time arguing with me."

She entered the elevator without answering.

Alessandro followed.

By the time they reached the parking garage, his driver had already opened the vehicle.

Isabella reluctantly accepted his assistance.

At the childcare center, Leonardo was sitting on a small sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

"Mommy!"

Isabella rushed toward him.

"I'm here, sweetheart."

She touched his forehead and frowned.

Alessandro stood several steps behind them, observing quietly.

Leonardo noticed him.

"You're here!"

Alessandro approached.

"How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Leonardo studied him carefully.

Then he reached into his little backpack and produced a folded piece of paper.

"Look what I drew."

Alessandro accepted it.

The drawing showed a large house, a little boy, and a tall man standing beside a window.

Underneath, Leonardo had written three words with the help of his teacher.

MY DADDY AND ME.

Alessandro stared at the paper.

Isabella immediately reached for it.

"Leonardo, sweetheart, let's go home."

But Alessandro held the drawing for another moment.

"Isabella."

She froze.

It was the first time he had called her by her first name.

His voice was quiet, but something in it made her nervous.

"How old is your son?"

"Three."

"And when was he born?"

She looked at Leonardo.

Then she looked back at Alessandro.

"Why are you asking?"

He handed her the drawing.

"Because I have a very strong feeling that your son belongs to me."

Isabella's face went completely pale.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she gathered Leonardo into her arms.

"You're mistaken."

Alessandro's eyes narrowed.

"Am I?"

She turned toward the door.

"Y

es."

But as she hurried away, Alessandro noticed something she had failed to hide.

Fear.

Not the fear of a woman who had committed a crime.

The fear of a mother who had been protecting a secret.

And Alessandro Romano had just decided that he would uncover every part of it.