Chapter 1 - The Name His Father Left Behind
The question hung between them.
“Then what do you want?”
Isadora looked directly into Giovanni Rossi’s eyes.
For the first time that evening, she saw something behind the coldness.
Not anger.
Fear.
Small. Buried. Almost invisible.
She placed both hands on the edge of the table.
“I want the truth about your father’s death.”
The restaurant seemed to stop breathing.
Giovanni’s jaw tightened.
“My father died nine years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then you also know there is nothing left to investigate.”
“There is everything left to investigate.”
His guards exchanged a glance.
Gio leaned forward.
“You have ten seconds to explain yourself.”
Isadora touched the silver locket at her throat.
“Your father gave this to my mother three days before he died.”
Silence.
Gio stared at the locket.
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But Isadora saw it.
“You recognize it.”
He slowly reached beneath his jacket and removed a photograph from his wallet.
He placed it on the table.
Isadora looked down.
An older Giovanni Rossi stood beside a woman she had never seen before.
Her mother.
Isadora's fingers trembled.
“When was this taken?”
“Eight years before my father died.”
“My mother told me they had never met.”
“Your mother lied.”
Isadora swallowed.
“Why?”
Gio didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward Luca.
“Lock the restaurant.”
Every chair seemed to move at once.
Guests were quietly escorted toward the private exits.
Isadora's heart began pounding.
“You said I could leave.”
“I changed my mind.”
She glared at him.
“That sounds convenient.”
“It isn't.”
Gio picked up the silver locket.
“Because if your mother gave you this after my father's death, then someone has been lying to both of us for nine years.”
He opened the locket.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
A little girl.
Isadora.
And beneath the photograph, scratched into the metal, were four words:
TRUST NO ROSSI MAN.
Gio stared at the inscription.
Then he looked at Isadora.
“Who told you to come here?”
“No one.”
“That's not true.”
“It is.”
“Then why have you spent six months working inside my restaurant?”
Isadora froze.
Gio's voice dropped.
“You weren't hired by Emilio.”
Her face went pale.
“I applied.”
“You applied under a false name.”
Her breathing stopped.
Gio slid a folder across the table.
On its cover was her real name.
ISADORA MARINO.
Inside were photographs.
Her apartment.
Her mother.
Her bank.
Her old university records.
And one photograph that made the blood drain from her face.
A photograph of her late father.
Standing beside Giovanni Rossi's father.
Both men were smiling.
And between them stood a teenage boy.
Gio's younger brother.
Except everyone had always told Isadora that Giovanni Rossi had been an only child.
She looked up slowly.
“Who is he?”
Gio said nothing.
“Giovanni.”
His eyes hardened.
“My father had another son.”
“Where is he?”
Gio looked toward the dark windows.
“Dead.”
Isadora stared at him.
“No.”
Gio's expression changed.
“You know something.”
She shook her head.
“I know he isn't dead.”
“Why?”
“Because I met him.”
Gio stood.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
The color disappeared from his face.
“Where?”
Isadora reached into her dress pocket.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I was supposed to give this to you if you proved you were your father's son.”
Gio took it.
His hands suddenly weren't steady.
He unfolded the paper.
There was only one sentence.
Giovanni Rossi is not the heir.
Beneath it was a name.
A name that had been erased from every Rossi family record.
ANTONIO ROSSI.
Gio stared at the page.
Then the restaurant lights went out.
A gunshot cracked through the darkness.
Isadora screamed.
Gio grabbed her and pulled her behind the table.
Glass exploded above them.
Luca shouted.
“DOWN!”
Another shot.
Then silence.
Gio looked at Isadora.
“You said Antonio was alive.”
She nodded.
“He is.”
“Where?”
Before she could answer, a voice came through the darkness.
Calm.
Male.
Familiar.
“He isn't the one you should be afraid of, Giovanni.”
The emergency lights flickered on.
At the entrance stood an old man in a black coat.
Giovanni's uncle.
The man everyone believed had died twelve years ago.
He smiled at Isadora.
May you like
And pointed a gun directly at Giovanni.
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