Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO STOLE HER NAME
Sophia Bennett had spent twenty-six years believing she was the only child of a struggling single mother.
Now a stranger was telling her she belonged to the family of the woman who had stolen her bedroom.
"No," Sophia whispered.
Daniel drove away from the estate as dawn began coloring the sky.
"Your mother wasn't your biological mother."
Sophia turned toward him.
"Stop."
"She loved you as if you were."
"I said stop."
Daniel pulled into a quiet gas station parking lot.
He turned off the engine.
Sophia stared through the windshield.
Her mother's face filled her memories.
The woman who worked two jobs.
Who taught her to ride a bicycle.
Who stayed awake through every fever.
Who had cried when Sophia graduated from high school.
"She was my mother," Sophia said.
Daniel nodded.
"She absolutely was."
Sophia looked at the envelope.
"Then who gave birth to me?"
Daniel hesitated.
"A woman named Clara Conti."
Sophia frowned.
"Isabella's sister?"
"No. Her aunt."
The answer only made things worse.
"Why would my mother take me?"
"Because someone ordered your death."
Sophia turned sharply.
Daniel explained that the Conti family had once been involved in a bitter inheritance dispute.
Clara Conti had secretly married a man outside the family's approved circle.
When she died shortly after Sophia's birth, her daughter became the beneficiary of a substantial trust.
But other relatives wanted control.
"Your mother, Margaret Bennett, was Clara's private nurse," Daniel continued.
"She discovered that someone had falsified medical records to have you declared dead."
Sophia felt nauseated.
"Declared dead?"
Daniel nodded.
"Margaret took you away before the paperwork could be completed."
Sophia looked down at her hands.
"So Isabella thinks I'm dead?"
Daniel's silence frightened her.
"Daniel?"
"Isabella knows the child survived."
Sophia swallowed.
"Does she know it's me?"
"I don't know."
At that exact moment, Sophia's phone began ringing.
Dante.
She watched his name appear.
Then disappear.
He called again.
And again.
At the Romano estate, Dante stood in the doorway of her empty bedroom.
The key rested on the pillow.
Her books were gone.
Her clothes were gone.
Even the little framed photograph beside the window had disappeared.
He turned toward Elena.
"Where is she?"
Elena looked him directly in the eyes.
"She left, Mr. Romano."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Dante's face hardened.
"Why didn't you stop her?"
Elena's voice shook.
"Because twenty-seven years ago, I stopped another woman from leaving. And I've regretted it every day since."
Dante froze.
"Who?"
Elena reached into her apron.
She produced an old photograph.
Margaret Bennett stood beside Dante's father.
Between them was a little girl.
May you like
On the back, in his father's handwriting, were six words.
SOPHIA CONTI MUST NEVER COME HOME.
