Chapter 20 Gabriella
I can't sit still or concentrate.
It's been six hours since Luca questioned me about last night, and I'm about to go out of my mind. Every time my phone buzzes, I expect it to be my father with another panicked message. Every time Luca looks at me, I feel like he's cataloging another inconsistency.
The walls are closing in from every direction, and I can't breathe.
"Mrs. Romano?" Rosa appears in the doorway. "Is everything all right? You seem... restless."
"I'm fine. Just thinking about visiting my father this afternoon. I realized I left some things at his house that I'd like to have here."
It's a weak excuse, but it's all I've got. I need to see him face to face today and make sure he doesn't do anything rash that will get us all killed.
"Would you like me to have Paolo drive you?"
"That would be perfect. Thank you."
An hour later, I'm sitting in the back of Luca's car while Paolo navigates the familiar streets to my childhood home.
The villa where Sofia and I grew up looks exactly the same as I remember from my early childhood.
Pristine gardens, expensive cars in the circular drive, the kind of old money elegance that whispers rather than shouts.
But when Maria, our longtime housekeeper, opens the door, her face is tight with worry.
"Miss Sofia," she says, "Your father is in his study. He's been agitated since dinner last night. I’m very worried."
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell her.
I find him behind his mahogany desk, but he's not working. He's staring out the window with the hollow expression of a man watching his world collapse.
"Papa."
He turns, and the relief on his face is quickly replaced by fury. "Finally. I've been calling you."
"I know. I came as soon as I could."
"As soon as you could?" He stands abruptly, knocking over his coffee cup. The dark liquid spreads across papers scattered on his desk. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through? What I've been trying to clean up since last night?"
"What have you done?"
"What have you done!" His voice rises to a shout. "I've spent twelve hours trying to figure out how to contact Sofia without getting her killed, how to fix this nightmare you've created!"
"Keep your voice down," I hiss, glancing toward the door. "The staff will hear."
"Let them hear! At least then someone else will know the truth about what my daughters have become."
I move closer, lowering my voice to force him to do the same. "Tell me exactly what you've done since last night. Who you’ve talked to."
"I've been trying to find her. The real Sofia." He runs his hands through his hair. "I contacted travel agencies, banks, anyone who might have records of where she went. But she's completely disappeared. Your sister has vanished without a trace. You talked her into this! You did this!"
"Stop trying to find her. She's safe because she's invisible."
"Safe?" He laughs bitterly. "While you're destroying everything our family has built! The Romano alliance, the protection we've enjoyed for decades. It's all hanging by a thread because you decided to play house with a man who could have us all murdered!"
"The alliance still exists. The marriage happened. Nothing has to change if you just calm down and stay quiet."
"Are you crazy? Gabriella, I watched you last night. The way you moved, the way you spoke. You're nothing like Sofia, and eventually, someone else is going to notice. Luca is already suspicious. I could see it in his eyes. He knows something is up with you."
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"Nothing! But he's not stupid. Far from it." Papa sinks back into his chair, suddenly looking every one of his sixty-three years. "This can't continue. We need to bring Sofia back and figure out how to explain your... substitution."
"Sofia can't come back. Even if we could find her, even if she wanted to, it's too late. She's been gone too long. How would we explain where she's been?"
"We'll think of something. A medical emergency, a family crisis, anything that justifies her absence."
"And then what? She magically transforms into the woman Luca has been living with? He'll know immediately that something changed."
"Then we tell him the truth and throw ourselves on his mercy."
I stare at my father in disbelief. "This is the Romano family we're talking about. They don't have mercy. They have business interests and bullet solutions to problems that threaten those interests."
"What do you suggest? That you continue this charade forever? That you live the rest of your life as someone else? What was the long-term plan here?"
The question hangs in the air between us. I don’t answer because I don’t have a long- term plan. I never thought it would get this far.
And now every option leads to disaster for someone I care about.
"I suggest," I say finally, "that you stop making panicked phone calls. Stop trying to track her down. Stop doing anything that creates a trail of evidence pointing to what we've done."
The color drains from his face. "Do you think Luca knows about my phone calls? What have I done?"
"You've made this worse. But maybe not irreparably worse, if you stop now. Quit acting irrational and go back to normal."
"And Sofia?"
"She stays wherever she is. Far away from all this, living the life she always wanted."
We stare at each other across his desk.
"I can't do that," he says finally. "I can't just abandon Sofia. Will I ever see her again?"
"You're not abandoning her. You're protecting her. The moment anyone in the Romano family learns there are two of us, both our lives are in danger. They can't risk word getting out about the deception. They can't afford to have witnesses to their failure to properly vet an alliance marriage."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Choose the one option that keeps us both alive. The solution is simple."
Before he can respond, my phone buzzes. A text from Luca: "Where are you?"
"I have to go," I say, already moving toward the door.
"Gabriella, wait—"
"No more phone calls, Papa. No more attempts to contact Sofia. If you care about her, you'll let this stand. It’s all we can do."
I leave him sitting in his study, surrounded by coffee-stained papers and the wreckage of his carefully ordered world.
The drive back to the Romano villa feels endless. Paolo makes polite conversation about the weather, but I can barely focus on his words. My father's panic is like a virus, spreading through every aspect of this situation and making everything more dangerous.
By the time we pull through the gates, my hands are shaking.
Luca is waiting in the foyer when I walk in, still wearing the suit from this morning but with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He’s been working hard, but his attention immediately focuses on me with laser intensity.
"How was your visit with your father?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
"Fine. I just needed to pick up a few things from the house."
"What kind of things?"
I realize I'm empty-handed. No bag, no belongings, nothing to justify the trip. "Personal items. Maria is going to send them over later."
"I see. You were gone longer than expected."
"My father and I were talking. You know how it is."
"Actually, I don't. What do you and your father find to talk about for two hours? Do the two of you get along? I’ve never asked you about the relationship with your father."
The question is casual, but there's a directness underneath. He knows something is wrong, and he's not going to let me deflect much longer.
"We haven’t always gotten along. I know he means well in his own way. He continues to have concerns about me..." I trail off, realizing I'm about to walk into another trap.
"About what?"
"If I'm happy. Whether this marriage is what I expected."
"Is it?"
I look up at him, this dangerous, complicated man who's been nothing but kind to me despite having every reason to be suspicious.
"It's not what I expected," I say honestly.
“In what way?” he asks.
“It’s much better. A thousand times better.”
He blinks and doesn’t comment. My answer surprised him.
"I want to ask you something else," he says. "Last night, when I found you and your father on the terrace. Why did he appear to be afraid of you?"
“I can assure me my father isn’t afraid of me. That’s ridiculous! Why do you keep asking me that?”
"Is it? Because I've been thinking about it all day, and I can't figure out why a father would be afraid of his own daughter unless she wasn't really his daughter. It’s the only thing that makes sense."
He's so close to the truth that I can barely breathe.
I let out a laugh. "Of course I'm his daughter. What else would I be? Everyone says I even have his eyes. If you look at our photos together, you can see the resemblance. Where would you come up with a crazy idea like that?"
"I don't know," he says, his voice quiet but relentless.
“Okay, what do I need to do to make you believe me? Ask me questions about my childhood. Anything. Do you want to know my first memory? Or what happened on my first day of school? My favorite foods my mother made me when I was sick? Ask me the questions, Luca. Anything you want to know. Because clearly something is bothering you.”
“Tonight, when you came back from your father's house, you looked like someone who'd been given an ultimatum."
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?" He shifts so he can study me closely, his eyes sharp with suspicion. "Because I've been married to you for weeks now, and I'm realizing I don't know you at all."
The truth is right there, begging to be spoken. He's given me the perfect opening to confess everything, to explain how I never meant for any of this to go so far.
"You know me," I say, reaching up to touch his face. "You know me better than anyone else ever has. In all the ways that matter."
"Do I? Because right now, you feel like a stranger."
The words hurt, because he's right. I am a stranger. I'm someone he's never met, living in his house, sleeping in his bed.
"I'm your wife," I say, because it's the only truth I can give him.
"Are you?"
The question hangs between us in the darkness, loaded with all the doubt and suspicion and growing certainty that something is fundamentally wrong.
"Yes," I whisper, though we both know it's not that simple anymore. “I vowed to be your wife and I am.”