The StongWilled Rose

Chapter 3

I woke up to someone knocking on my door.

I stared at the ceiling.

For exactly three seconds, I considered pretending I was dead.

Then the knocking came again.

"Allegra?"

I recognized the voice.

Matteo.

I pulled the blanket over my head.

"Go away."

"It's nine."

"Congratulations."

"It's your birthday."

I opened my eyes.

Right.

Birthday.

I had completely forgotten.

Or maybe I hadn't.

Maybe I'd just refused to think about it.

Six years ago, my birthday had been supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Instead, I'd lost everything.

I sat up.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly.

Matteo stepped inside carrying a small box.

He smiled awkwardly.

"Happy birthday."

I stared at the box.

"What is that?"

"A gift."

"Why?"

He frowned.

"Because it's your birthday?"

"People don't normally give gifts to people they haven't seen in six years."

"I know."

He walked over and put it on the desk.

"I didn't know what you'd like."

"You could've asked."

"I was scared you'd tell me to leave."

I looked at him.

"I probably would have."

"Exactly."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

He sat on the chair opposite me.

"You look tired."

"I barely slept."

"Because of us?"

"Partly."

He nodded.

"Are you staying?"

"For now."

His eyebrows lifted.

"That's good."

"Don't get excited."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Maybe a little."

I rolled my eyes.

He smiled.

For a few seconds, it almost felt normal.

Then he looked at me carefully.

"Are you happy?"

I stared at him.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A real one."

I looked toward the window.

"No."

His expression fell.

"Do you hate us?"

I thought about it.

"Some of you."

"Me?"

I looked at him.

"I don't know yet."

He nodded slowly.

"Fair."

A knock came from the door.

This time it was Dad.

"Can I come in?"

Matteo stood.

"I'll leave you two."

He walked past Dad.

Before leaving, he looked at me.

"Open the box."

Then he disappeared.

Dad stepped inside.

He was holding a birthday cake.

I stared.

It was small.

White frosting.

My name written across the top.

Happy 17th Birthday, Allegra.

I didn't know what to say.

Dad placed it on the desk.

"I didn't know if you'd want a party."

"I don't."

"I figured."

He gave me a small smile.

"So I kept it simple."

I looked at the cake.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I remembered."

I looked away.

He sighed.

"I remembered every birthday."

"Even after I disappeared?"

"Especially after."

I swallowed.

He moved closer.

"I searched for you every year."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what to do with it."

He was quiet.

I looked at him.

"Do you know what I remember about my last birthday?"

His face tightened.

"You were happy."

I laughed bitterly.

"I remember being terrified."

He looked down.

"I remember waking up confused."

My voice became quieter.

"I remember Mom screaming. Brittany crying. Everyone looking at me like I was some kind of monster."

Dad's jaw tightened.

"I remember you hitting me."

He closed his eyes.

"I know."

"And then you sent me away."

"I was wrong."

"You were."

"I'll regret it until I die."

I looked at him.

"I don't want your regret."

He looked at me.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

That wasn't entirely true.

But I wasn't ready to tell him what I wanted.

He nodded.

"Okay."

He started walking toward the door.

Then stopped.

"Your mother wants to see you."

I laughed.

"Of course she does."

"You don't have to."

"I'll go."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I stood.

"Let's see what she wants."

Lucia was waiting in the sitting room.

Brittany was there too.

Of course.

I walked in.

"Happy birthday," Mom said.

"Thanks."

She smiled nervously.

"I had breakfast prepared."

"I'm not hungry."

"I thought you might like—"

"I'm good."

Brittany stared at me.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing."

"You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"I was just..."

She stopped.

"Just what?"

"You look different."

I smiled.

"That's what six years does."

She looked uncomfortable.

Mom sat down.

"Allegra, we need to talk about what happened."

"No."

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"I know exactly what you're going to say."

She swallowed.

"I want to explain."

"You can explain."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"But I'm not promising I'll believe you."

She nodded.

"I understand."

I sat opposite them.

"Go ahead."

Mom took a deep breath.

"What happened that night..."

She stopped.

Brittany looked at her.

Then back at me.

"It wasn't supposed to happen that way."

I stared at her.

My heartbeat changed.

"What does that mean?"

She looked down.

"Your mother never meant for you to be hurt."

I laughed.

"Interesting."

Brittany's eyes filled with tears.

"Allegra—"

"Don't cry."

She froze.

"I hate when people cry because they want me to feel guilty."

"I'm not doing that."

"Then don't."

Mom reached for her.

I watched them.

Something about the way Brittany looked at her made my stomach twist.

There was fear there.

Real fear.

I leaned back.

"What exactly happened that night?"

Neither of them answered.

"That's what I thought."

I stood.

Brittany suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I looked down at her hand.

Then at her.

She immediately released me.

"Sorry."

I stepped backward.

"Don't touch me."

She nodded.

"I just wanted you to know..."

"What?"

Her voice dropped.

"I never wanted you gone."

I stared at her.

For one second, I saw the little girl who used to share a room with me.

The girl who used to steal my clothes.

The girl who used to braid my hair.

Then I remembered the kitchen.

The knife.

The blood.

Her accusations.

My father's hand.

The orphanage.

Everything disappeared.

"No."

She looked at me.

"No?"

"You wanted me gone."

Her face crumpled.

"You don't know what happened."

"I know enough."

I walked toward the door.

Then Mom spoke.

"Allegra."

I stopped.

"Your father told us you're staying."

"For now."

"We want you to be part of this family again."

I turned around.

I looked at all three of them.

Then I smiled.

"That's not going to happen."

Silence.

"I'm not the daughter you remember."

I opened the door.

"And I'm definitely not the sister Brittany remembers."

I walked away.

My phone buzzed.

I looked at the screen.

Matteo: Where are you?

I replied.

Me: Leaving.

Three dots appeared.

Matteo: Leaving where?

I smiled.

Me: The house.

His response came immediately.

Matteo: Why?

I looked back at the enormous hallway.

Then at the family portrait hanging above the staircase.

My family.

My old life.

My old identity.

I typed:

Me: Because I need to remember who I am before this place tries to make me forget.

I slipped my phone into my pocket.

Then I walked outside.

I didn't notice the black SUV parked across the street.

I didn't notice the man sitting inside it.

And I definitely didn't know that someone had been watching the Bianchi estate since the moment I arrived.

Someone who wasn't part of my family.

Someone who had already heard my name.

Allegra Rose Bianchi.

And, somewhere far away, another name was about to enter my life.

Viktor Dragunov.