When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer Isabella Caruso.The system gave me a new face, a new name, and a life with no connection to either family. My records identified me as Elena Marlowe, twenty-seven years old, with enough money to disappear wherever I chose.My memories remained.So did the cold beneath the clock tower.I left Chicago that week.Three years later, I owned a small botanical studio in Portland. I lived above the shop, worked without guards outside the door, and answered to no family.The Caruso and De Luca names still appeared in the news. Their alliance had collapsed after my death. Bianca survived, but Matteo never married her. My parents withdrew from public life, while Matteo continued searching for proof that I might still exist.He found me on a rainy afternoon.I was tying ribbon around a box of winter roses when the bell above the door rang.“Give me a moment.”The room went silent.When I looked up, Matteo stood near the entrance.He looked older. Exha
Read more