Chapter 7 — The Name I Was Forbidden to Remember
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“Isabella.”
The voice came from the darkness.
She couldn’t breathe.
It was deeper than the voice in her fragmented memories, but she knew it.
Somewhere inside her, a little girl knew it.
“Dad?”
Dante immediately stepped in front of her.
“Stay behind me.”
A figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
An older man stepped into the faint light.
He looked exhausted. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and a scar ran from his temple toward his jaw.
But his eyes—
Isabella knew those eyes.
She had seen them in her dreams.
Her knees nearly gave way.
“Alessandro.”
Dante’s voice was low and guarded.
The man looked at him.
“Dante Moretti.”
There was history in those two words.
Too much history.
Alessandro’s eyes returned to Isabella.
For a moment, the powerful man disappeared.
He simply looked like a father seeing his daughter after years of believing he had lost her.
“My little girl.”
Tears filled Isabella’s eyes.
She stepped around Dante.
“You left me.”
Alessandro flinched.
“I know.”
“You let me believe I was an orphan.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice!”
Her voice echoed through the abandoned mansion.
Alessandro lowered his gaze.
“I chose the only one that gave you a chance to live.”
Isabella shook her head.
“Who was hunting me?”
Alessandro looked toward Dante.
“The same people who destroyed our family.”
“Who?”
“The Serpents.”
Isabella remembered the symbol.
The crown.
The serpent wrapped around it.
Her stomach tightened.
“What do they want from me?”
Alessandro hesitated.
“Your name.”
She stared at him.
“My name?”
“Your family name isn’t simply a name, Isabella. It’s connected to everything they have spent years trying to control.”
Dante stepped forward.
“What did you hide from her?”
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“The truth.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only answer that matters.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“You know what happened to Elena.”
Isabella froze.
“Who is Elena?”
Alessandro looked at her.
“Your mother.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You said she disappeared.”
“I said she disappeared because I wanted you to believe she was gone.”
Isabella’s heart raced.
“She’s alive?”
Alessandro didn’t answer immediately.
That was enough.
“She’s alive.”
He nodded slowly.
“At least… she was.”
A cold silence filled the room.
“What does that mean?”
“She vanished while trying to protect something.”
“What?”
Alessandro looked at the photograph Isabella had dropped.
“The evidence.”
Dante picked it up.
“The evidence against whom?”
Alessandro’s face became grim.
“Against the people who betrayed us.”
Isabella looked between them.
“The four families.”
Alessandro nodded.
“The Romano family. The Moretti family. The Bellini family. And the De Lucas.”
“Four powerful families,” Dante said.
“Four families that once controlled almost everything in this city.”
Alessandro’s eyes darkened.
“Until someone decided they wanted all of it.”
“Lucian,” Dante said.
Alessandro didn’t deny it.
Isabella’s chest tightened.
“But Lucian is your enemy?”
“He may be.”
“May be?”
Alessandro looked at Dante.
“Do you still trust your uncle?”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“Good.”
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside.
Alessandro’s security men raised their weapons.
Dante pulled Isabella behind him.
“How did they find us?” he asked.
Alessandro’s eyes went to the photograph.
“They followed the key.”
Isabella looked down.
“The key?”
“Your mother knew that one day someone would come looking for you. She hid the evidence where only you could find it.”
Isabella touched the pendant.
“So she knew I’d survive.”
“She never stopped believing you would.”
A single tear slipped down Isabella’s cheek.
Then Alessandro said something that made her blood run cold.
“Your mother also made me promise never to tell you your real name until you were old enough to protect yourself.”
Isabella stared at him.
“My real name?”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“Isabella Romano is your real name.”
She frowned.
“Then why did you say—”
“Because the name wasn’t the dangerous part.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“The danger was what the name represented.”
A gunshot exploded outside.
Everyone ducked.
Dante grabbed Isabella’s hand.
“We’re leaving.”
“No,” Alessandro said. “There’s another way.”
He rushed toward the portrait.
Isabella followed.
Her father pressed his hand against the wall.
A hidden door opened.
Another secret passage.
Dante stared at him.
“You built this?”
“No.”
Alessandro looked at Isabella.
“Your mother did.”
Isabella’s heart pounded.
They entered.
The door closed behind them.
For several seconds, they moved through darkness.
Then Isabella noticed something carved into the wall.
A single sentence.
A NAME CAN BE STOLEN. A BLOODLINE CANNOT.
She touched the words.
Suddenly, another memory struck her.
Her mother kneeling in front of her.
A small wooden box between them.
“Isabella, promise me something.”
The little girl nodded.
“Never tell anyone your name.”
“Why, Mama?”
“Because one day they’ll come looking for the Romano heir.”
The memory vanished.
Isabella stumbled.
Dante caught her.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“My mother.”
She looked at Alessandro.
“She knew they would come for me.”
“Yes.”
“She knew everything.”
“Not everything.”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
“Because there was one secret even she never discovered.”
Before Isabella could ask, they reached the end of the passage.
Alessandro opened another door.
They emerged into a hidden room.
On the wall hung dozens of photographs.
Family members.
Businessmen.
Politicians.
And one photograph made Isabella stop.
Dante’s father stood beside Lucian.
Between them was a third man.
A man Isabella had never seen before.
Across the photograph, written in red ink, were four words:
THE REAL TRAITOR LIVES.
Dante stared at the photograph.
His face went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
Isabella looked at him.
“Who is he?”
Dante didn’t answer.
Alessandro did.
“Your father’s closest friend.”
Dante slowly turned toward him.
“My father had no surviving friends.”
Alessandro’s eyes hardened.
“That’s what he wanted everyone to believe.”
A phone suddenly rang inside the hidden room.
Everyone froze.
Alessandro looked at the phone on the table.
It wasn’t his.
It wasn’t Dante’s.
It was Isabella’s.
She slowly reached into her pocket.
Her hands trembled as she answered.
A distorted voice whispered:
“Now you know your name.”
A pause.
“Next, you’ll learn why your mother disappeared.”
The call ended.
Isabella stared at the phone.
Then another message appeared.
COME ALONE.
And beneath it was an address.
The address of the place where her mother had disappeared.
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