Chapter 2

Vittorio summoned me to his study the next morning.

Dominic DeLuca, head of estate security, stood near the windows. Marcus Vale, the family attorney, sat at the long table with a legal pad. I placed the revised risk report in front of my father.

"Three guests have had recent contact with the Moretti organization," I said. "The east terrace has a camera blind spot, and the liquor vendor hasn't completed background clearance on two temporary employees. I've included replacements and an evacuation route that avoids the service drive."

Dominic flipped through the report. "You did all this yourself?"

Vittorio closed the folder before I could answer. "Remove the author metadata from the electronic copy. Bianca will present it on Saturday."

"I wrote it."

The room went dead quiet.

Marcus's pen stopped. Dominic lowered his eyes to the page. Neither man looked surprised by my objection; they looked worried that I had said it out loud. Their reaction told me they both knew where the invisible line had been drawn.

Vittorio leaned back in his chair. "Are you asking the family to applaud you?"

"I'm asking to keep my name on my own work."

He rose and came around the desk. Vittorio rarely shouted. He didn't need to. In his world, men lowered their voices when they were about to make someone disappear from a contract, a company, or a room.

"Intelligence doesn't make you a Romano," he said. "Loyalty does. And loyalty means knowing what belongs to Bianca."

The lie was so complete it almost made me laugh. "Understood."

He handed the folder to Marcus. "Turn it into her presentation."

Then he looked at me as though the matter had been settled by law. "What's happening with Scotland?"

"My admission and scholarship are confirmed. I'm finishing the visa clearance."

"Before you leave, you'll sign a family nondisclosure agreement. If you cooperate, I'll allow you to keep access to our medical network and security resources."

Allow me. Even my departure had to sound like a favor he could grant or revoke.

"I'll have counsel review it first."

His eyebrows drew together. The old Alessia would have said, Yes, Dad, and thanked him for the privilege of signing. "Since when do you have counsel?"

"Since I'm signing a legal document in another country."

"Marcus represents the family."

"Exactly."

Dominic coughed into his fist. Vittorio's stare sharpened, but a knock at the door ended the exchange. I left before he could order me to stay.

At the turn in the corridor, I heard Elena enter the study. The door hadn't latched. I stopped, opened the recorder on my phone, and held it close to my coat.

Marcus spoke first. "She's eighteen now. She can request her own vital records. If Montrose asks for a certified copy—"

"You told us that had been handled," Elena snapped.

"I told you I could control the family narrative. I can't alter a state birth registration. The second she sees the names of her parents, she'll know there was never an adoption."

Silence stretched for several seconds.

"Then don't let her see it," Vittorio said.

Elena lowered her voice. "After the gala, I'll take her passport. Give her a few days to cool off and she'll stop talking about Scotland. She always comes around."

I ended the recording and kept walking at the same measured pace. My knees didn't start shaking until I was inside my car with the doors locked.

They weren't planning to tell me. They were planning to trap me.

I drove straight into town. My passport, certified birth record, spare bank card, and printed flight confirmation went into a private safe-deposit box. At the bus station, I rented a locker under no family-linked account and stored a plain duffel bag inside. It held clothes, a second phone, and enough cash to cross the country if my flight fell through.

When I returned, Bianca hurried down the front steps with a folder hugged to her chest. "Dad said my financial analysis isn't convincing enough. Could you redo it? Just the conclusions and the charts?"

I turned to the last page. The charts came from a model I had built for the foundation the previous year. My username had been removed and replaced with hers.

"Leave it on my desk."

"You're the best." She threw her arms around me.

My body went rigid, but Bianca didn't notice. Or maybe she noticed and chose not to ask. Either way, I hugged her back just long enough to keep the performance intact.

Until my visa support was final, they had to believe I was still housebroken.

That night, Marcus emailed me a twenty-seven-page nondisclosure agreement. Clause fourteen required me to acknowledge that the Romano surname, housing, education, medical care, and protection had been voluntarily provided by Vittorio and Elena and created no relationship of blood, inheritance, or trust entitlement.

They had stolen my past. Now they wanted my signature on the theft of my future.

I saved the document to my encrypted account and forwarded it to a student legal-aid address in Edinburgh. Then I moved my flight to early Monday morning.

On Saturday, the Romanos would parade their only daughter in front of everyone who mattered.

It would also be my last night on the estate.