Twelve Years As Their Fake Daughter のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The certified birth record left no room for doubt.Father: Vittorio Salvatore Romano.Mother: Elena Marie Romano.Change of guardianship: None.Adoption record: None.The clerk at the county records office printed a second copy and pressed the raised seal into the bottom corner. She slid it across the counter, but her fingers stayed on the page for a beat."This is all you'll need for an overseas student clearance," she said. "But I have to ask. Why did you think you were adopted?"I stared at the two names I'd written on school forms my entire life. "My family told me I was."By the time I reached the Romano estate in the Hudson Valley, night had fallen. Cameras tracked my car from the outer gate to the guardhouse. A security officer checked my plates before the iron gates rolled open, even though I had lived there for twelve years.The main house blazed with light. Inside, the gallery walls displayed Bianca at every age: Bianca on her first pony, Bianca at a charity luncheon, Bianca

Forty-seven guests arrived at the Romano estate on Saturday evening.State senators, shipping executives, foundation trustees, attorneys, and men Vittorio introduced only as old friends filled the ballroom. Every one of them had passed a background check I had designed. Every table had been placed according to a security plan I had written.My name wasn't on the invitation.Aunt Francesca fastened an emerald brooch to Bianca's gown. "Your grandmother wore this the night she joined the family committee. After tonight, no one will question who represents the next generation of Romanos."Applause rose around them. I stood by the side entrance with an earpiece tucked beneath my hair, monitoring the security channel.The seating plan was mine. The emergency routes were mine. Bianca's speech and financial presentation were mine. She received the champagne and camera flashes; I checked exits and solved problems before anyone noticed them.An older guest held out his empty tumbler without look

When my flight landed in Edinburgh, I connected my backup phone to the airport Wi-Fi. The family group chat loaded 186 unread messages.By midmorning, concern had curdled into accusation.[You frightened your sister.][Running away after everything we've done for you is beyond ungrateful.][Call me before your father gets involved.]Vittorio had sent only three.[Call me. Now.][I'll pull your departure record.][Come back before I find you, and we can pretend this never happened.]He didn't believe I could actually leave the Romanos. In his mind, the estate wasn't merely a home. It was the edge of the known world, and he had spent twelve years teaching me that one step beyond it meant falling.He froze the family credit card issued in my name and ordered security to check private airfields. He didn't know I had never used his card. I had taken a cab to JFK, paid for the ticket from my own account, and boarded a commercial flight with students, tourists, and a screaming toddler two row

I met Nico Moretti in the cybersecurity lab.He was crouched in front of an open server rack, wrestling with a fiber connection, when I walked in for my first project meeting."You must be the first-year student who pushed the ownership model to ninety-seven percent accuracy," he said without looking up."And you must be the guy who shut down the test server and made me rerun four hours of work."He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Well, now that we've exchanged compliments, I guess we're acquainted."The Morettis and Romanos cooperated when money demanded it and watched each other the rest of the time. Nico's father had business ties to both sides, but Nico never asked about mine. He found bugs in my code, argued with my assumptions, and emailed before touching any data I had created.The first time he brought me hot chocolate, he tucked the receipt beneath the cup. "You get the next one.""You saved a receipt for three pounds?""I believe in clean accounting. Also, you're terr

Three weeks later, Vittorio came to Edinburgh.He waited outside the research building beside a black Range Rover. There was more gray at his temples than I remembered. A year earlier, the sight of him waiting would have made me hurry over and apologize for keeping him outside.I didn't get in the car."We can talk in the cafe across the street," I said. "It's public, Clara knows you're here, and I'm recording. Those are the terms."His mouth tightened, but he followed me.We took a table near the counter. Vittorio removed his gloves and placed them beside a leather folder. "Elena is here too. She wants to see you.""I don't want to see her.""She's your mother."I met his eyes. "So we're admitting that now?"He sat back. "After the crash, you didn't recognize anyone. You fought the nurses and refused treatment. The doctors said you needed a story you could accept. When we told you we were kind people who had taken you in, you finally let us help.""So the first lie was for treatment.