Chapter One: The Night of Betrayal

The rain had been falling over Milan since evening, turning the streets into a glittering maze of reflections. Inside the Romano estate, however, everything remained perfectly controlled. The marble floors shone beneath enormous chandeliers, expensive champagne filled crystal glasses, and men in tailored suits exchanged smiles that concealed years of rivalry.

Alessandro Romano stood near the staircase, observing the gathering with the detached expression of a man who trusted nobody.

At thirty-two, he had become one of the most powerful men in Italy. His name commanded respect in business circles and fear in places where respectable businessmen never dared to venture. His dark eyes missed nothing, and his silence often frightened people more than his anger.

Tonight's gathering was supposed to be a simple celebration of a business agreement. Alessandro had reluctantly agreed to attend because several influential associates insisted upon it. He disliked parties, unnecessary conversations, and people who believed wealth gave them permission to behave foolishly.

"You're going to frighten everyone away if you continue looking at them like that," Marco Romano remarked, appearing beside him with a glass of champagne.

Alessandro glanced at his friend. "Perhaps that would improve the evening."

Marco chuckled. "You have been here for forty minutes, and you haven't spoken to a single woman."

"I didn't come here to entertain women."

"Of course. You came here to intimidate businessmen and inspect the furniture."

Alessandro ignored him, his attention returning to the room.

Across the ballroom, a young woman stood beside an older gentleman, listening politely to a conversation she clearly found uninteresting. Isabella Moretti had not wanted to attend the gathering. Her friend had insisted that the invitation would provide an opportunity to meet influential people, and Isabella had reluctantly agreed.

At twenty, she preferred quiet evenings, books, and the comfort of familiar surroundings. The luxurious estate made her feel strangely uncomfortable, particularly because she knew so little about the people attending.

She adjusted the sleeve of her dress and glanced toward the entrance, wondering whether she could leave without offending her companion.

"Is something wrong?" the gentleman beside her asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering if we could leave soon."

He smiled reassuringly. "Of course. There is someone I would like you to meet first."

Before Isabella could ask who, a waiter approached with a tray of drinks.

She accepted a glass of sparkling water, unaware that someone had been watching her from across the room.

The evening continued, but gradually Isabella began feeling unusually dizzy. She blamed the crowded ballroom and the warmth of the room, excusing herself to find a quieter place.

Meanwhile, Alessandro had started experiencing an unfamiliar heaviness in his body.

He set his glass down and frowned.

"Marco."

His friend immediately noticed the change in his expression. "What is it?"

"I don't feel right."

Marco studied him carefully. "You look pale. Have you eaten anything?"

Alessandro shook his head, irritation beginning to replace his usual composure.

"Find out who has been handling the drinks."

Before Marco could respond, Alessandro stepped away from the gathering, determined to discover what was happening.

The corridors were quieter than the ballroom, and he followed them toward a private section of the estate. His vision blurred briefly, forcing him to stop beside a window.

Something was wrong.

He had never experienced such a sudden loss of control, and the realization made his anger intensify.

At the same time, Isabella wandered into another corridor, desperately searching for somewhere to sit.

She reached a door that appeared to lead into a guest bedroom and entered without thinking. The room was dimly lit, with heavy curtains covering the windows and a large bed positioned against the wall.

She closed the door behind her.

For several minutes, she sat on the edge of the bed, hoping the dizziness would disappear.

Then the door opened.

Alessandro entered, his expression dark with confusion.

Their eyes met.

Neither recognized the other.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice unusually strained.

Isabella attempted to stand. "I'm sorry. I think I've entered the wrong room."

Alessandro closed the door behind him, struggling to understand why his body felt so unfamiliar.

"Stay where you are."

His tone frightened her.

"I don't know what's happening," Isabella whispered. "I think someone put something in my drink."

Alessandro stared at her, suddenly realizing that she appeared just as confused as he was.

Before either could reach the door, the dizziness overwhelmed them.

The night disappeared into confusion.

Morning arrived with pale sunlight filtering through the curtains.

Isabella opened her eyes and immediately realized that something was terribly wrong.

She sat upright, her heart pounding as memories of the previous evening returned in fragments.

A strange room.

A man.

The gathering.

Her breath caught.

Across the room, Alessandro stood beside the window, already dressed, his expression colder than the morning air.

"Tell me your name," he said.

Isabella clutched the bedsheet, struggling to find words.

"Isabella."

"Your full name."

"Isabella Moretti."

His eyes narrowed.

"Who brought you here?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what happened. I was feeling sick, and I came into this room."

Alessandro studied her carefully.

For the first time in his life, he found himself facing a situation he could not immediately control.

He had never been with a woman before.

Neither, apparently, had she.

And now someone had deliberately placed them in a situation that could destroy them both.

Before he could ask another question, Isabella's phone began ringing.

She answered immediately, her voice trembling.

"Hello?"

The person on the other end spoke urgently.

Isabella's face drained of color.

"What do you mean?"

She listened for several seconds before whispering, "I'm coming."

She ended the call and hurried toward the door.

"Wait," Alessandro commanded.

But Isabella turned to him with frightened eyes.

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

"You're not leaving until I understand what happened."

"I don't know anything!"

For a moment, they stared at each other.

Then Isabella disappeared into the corridor.

Alessandro remained standing beside the window, his jaw tightening.

Someone had drugged him.

Someone had drugged her.

And someone had arranged for them to wake up together.

He turned toward the door as Marco entered the room.

"Find out who she is," Alessandro ordered.

Marco glanced at the empty doorway.

"And if she doesn't want to be found?"

Alessandro's expression hardened.

"Then I'll make certain she has nowhere left to hide."

He had no idea that three years later, the woman he was search

ing for would return to his life carrying a child who possessed his eyes, his intelligence, and his name.

And by then, the truth would be far more dangerous than either of them could imagine.