The warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco looked abandoned from the outside.Exactly the way I liked it.I pulled my Maserati between two shipping containers and killed the engine, checking my watch. Right on time for a meeting that could determine whether my arms dealing operation expanded into military contracts or stayed small-scale.The balance I walked these days felt like a tightrope stretched over an abyss.On one side was the father Aria needed—gentle, present, the kind of man who could teach her to ride a bike without blood on his hands.On the other hand was the don my organization required—ruthless, feared, willing to make the hard choices that kept us all alive.Some days, I wasn't sure which version of myself was real anymore.Colonel Miles was already waiting inside, his crisp uniform a stark contrast to the grimy warehouse surroundings.We'd done business before—small transactions, handguns mostly, nothing that would raise too many eyebrows.Today was different."
Alessandro's alarm went off at five in the morning.I felt him slide out of bed, careful not to wake me, but I'd been lying awake for hours anyway.Planning."Morning," I whispered, making my voice soft and sleepy.He turned, surprised to find me watching him in the gray pre-dawn light."Go back to sleep, Bella. I have an early meeting.""I'll make you breakfast.""You don't have to—""I want to."I slipped out of bed, letting my silk nightgown cling to my curves as I moved past him toward the bathroom.In the mirror, I caught his eyes following me, and a spark of hope flickered in my chest.Maybe today would be different.Twenty minutes later, I had coffee brewing and eggs Benedict on the table.Alessandro's favorite. The dish his mother used to make for special occasions.He appeared in the kitchen wearing one of his perfectly tailored suits, hair still damp from the shower."You didn't have to go to all this trouble," he said, but I could hear the appreciation in his voice."It's n
The silk nightgown had cost more than most people's rent.I'd worn it to bed every night for the past week, letting it slip off my shoulder at just the right moments, bending over to check on Aria so Alessandro could see the curve of my breasts.Nothing.He looked, of course. Alessandro was still a man, after all.But his eyes held the same distant politeness they'd carried since Marco's call three weeks ago.Since Vanessa's death.Since my victory.I adjusted the neckline of my cream silk blouse and checked my reflection in the hallway mirror before heading to the kitchen.If seduction wasn't working, perhaps it was time for a different approach.---Alessandro was already at the breakfast table, Aria on his lap as he fed her small pieces of cut strawberries.My heart should have melted at the sight—my handsome husband and our perfect daughter sharing their morning ritual.Instead, I felt the familiar stab of jealousy.Even grieving, even distant, he gave Aria more genuine affection
Two weeks at the gallery had changed everything.My hands were stained with ink from pricing labels. My feet ached from standing on the polished concrete floors. And for the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, I felt alive."Victoria, can you help this gentleman with the piece in the corner?" Giulia called from where she was hanging a new painting.I turned to see an older man studying one of her abstract works—swirls of blue and gold that looked like a storm meeting sunlight."It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, moving to stand beside him."My wife would have loved it," he said softly. "She always said art should make you feel something, even if you can't explain what.""Your wife sounds like she understood what Giulia is trying to do with her work."He nodded, lost in the painting for a moment."Would have been our fortieth anniversary next month."The past tense hung heavy between us, and I felt that familiar ache of understanding loss without remembering my own."She w
The morning light streaming through the terrace windows felt like an accusation.Seven days.Seven days of sitting in this beautiful apartment like a china doll on a shelf, perfectly dressed and utterly useless.I set down my untouched coffee and stared at the ring on my finger. The same ring that had given me a name but no memories, purpose, or direction.Victoria Romano.Even saying it felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit.Maria had left fresh flowers on the kitchen counter—bright yellow sunflowers that seemed to mock my dark mood."Buongiorno, cara," she'd said when she arrived that morning, her usual warmth radiating through the small space. "You look better today."But I didn't feel better.I felt restless, caged, like I was slowly disappearing into the comfortable walls of this borrowed life."Maria," I'd said, watching her arrange the flowers. "I need to do something. Work, volunteer, anything. I can't just sit here forever."She'd paused, her weathered hands gentle on the
The discharge papers felt heavy in my hands, like they carried more weight than just my medical records.Dr. Martinelli had signed off on everything that morning, declaring me physically fit to leave the hospital that had been my entire world for the past week.Physically fit.Mentally, I was still a stranger to myself."Your follow-up appointments are scheduled for next week," the nurse said, checking items off her list. "Make sure you don't miss them. Head injuries can be unpredictable."I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere, focused on the terrifying reality that in a few hours, I'd be walking out of this room with nowhere to go.---No family to call. No friends to turn to. No home to return to.The ring in the plastic bag might mean I had a husband somewhere, but if he existed, he wasn't looking for me.The police had found no missing person reports matching my description.No one had come forward claiming to know Victoria Romano.It was like I'd materialized on that Roman road fro