The sunlight barely filtered through the heavy curtains in Arabella's bedroom when her phone buzzed again. She groaned softly and rolled over, reaching for it on the nightstand. Another missed call—Elina again. She sighed.
After the chaotic visit from Matteo the night before, Arabella had barely gotten any sleep. Her mind had replayed the encounter on a loop—the flash of recognition in Matteo's eyes, the tension in his posture, and that dangerous, lingering question he'd asked before leaving.
"Who are you really?"
Arabella had barely been able to steady her breath after he walked out. His presence had stirred something deep inside her—memories from a past she was trying to leave behind and emotions she no longer wanted to confront.
She finally picked up her phone and called Elina back.
"Thank God!" Elina answered immediately, sounding breathless. "Arabella, are you okay? I've been calling all night."
"I'm fine," Arabella whispered, pressing a hand to her temple. "I just... Matteo showed up at my place."
There was a long pause on the other end. "What? He—he what? How did he find you?"
"I don't know. I don't think he recognized me. At least, not fully. But Elina… he looked suspicious."
"Damn," Elina muttered. "That's not good. Do you think he'll come back?"
"I'm not sure. But I have to be more careful now."
"You're already walking on a tightrope, Bella. You're Arabella Smith to the world now, not Isabella Romano. If he finds out…"
"I know," she cut in, closing her eyes. "I'm going to tighten things. I won't let him ruin this second chance."
There was silence for a moment before Elina's voice turned cautious. "Bella, I need to tell you something. It's about your old life."
Arabella's breath caught in her throat. "What about it?"
Elina hesitated. "A friend of mine sent me a link yesterday. Apparently, there's a new article circulating about the Romano family's missing daughter. Someone reopened the case."
Arabella sat up straight. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. "Who would reopen it now? It's been years."
"I don't know. But it's resurfacing. Your name… Isabella… people might start digging again."
Arabella's throat felt dry. "What does the article say?"
"Not much, just speculation. But that's how it starts, Bella. Someone somewhere wants answers. You need to lay low, especially now that Matteo's sniffing around."
Arabella swallowed her fear. She had worked too hard to escape the chains of her past and build a life for her child. She wouldn't let it all come crumbling down.
"Thank you, Elina. I'll be careful."
"You're not alone in this, Bella," Elina said gently. "We'll face it together."
---
Later that afternoon, Arabella arrived at the office. She had asked to return to her duties sooner than scheduled, needing the distraction—and to maintain her cover. If she stayed hidden, people might begin to suspect something.
To her surprise, Matteo hadn't come in yet. Part of her was relieved, the other on edge.
Her boss, Mr. Grayson, waved her into his office. "Arabella, glad to have you back. Your presence has been missed."
"Thank you, sir. I'm ready to resume my tasks."
He handed her a file. "Good. We have an upcoming charity gala in two weeks. Matteo will be giving a keynote speech. I'd like you to start preparing his talking points and coordinate with the media team."
Arabella nodded, though her stomach clenched at the thought of working closely with Matteo again. "Understood."
As she turned to leave, Mr. Grayson added, "And Arabella… Matteo specifically requested that you be assigned to this."
She froze for a moment, then gave a polite nod before walking out. Requested her? Why?
Her thoughts swirled as she returned to her desk. Maybe he really was suspicious. Maybe he was trying to confirm her identity.
Her inbox dinged with a new message. It was from Matteo.
> Subject: Lunch
Message: Meet me at the rooftop cafeteria at noon. We need to talk.
– M.
Arabella's hands trembled slightly. This wasn't a request. It was a command.
---
At exactly noon, she stepped onto the rooftop cafeteria, the wind tugging at her soft waves. Matteo stood by the railing, his back to her, looking out over the skyline.
He turned when he heard her approach. Today, his expression was unreadable—calm, collected, almost too neutral.
"You came," he said.
"You asked," she replied coolly, crossing her arms.
"Have a seat," he gestured to the table nearby. "I didn't mean to startle you last night."
Arabella hesitated, then sat across from him. "You surprised me, that's all."
Matteo studied her, his eyes sharp. "You look… familiar. I can't shake it."
Her pulse quickened, but she forced a calm smile. "Maybe I have one of those faces."
"Maybe," he murmured, unconvinced. "Or maybe you're hiding something."
Arabella's heart slammed against her chest. "Why would you think that?"
Matteo leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Because ever since I met you, I've had this strange feeling. Like I've known you before. But it's impossible, right?"
"Completely," she lied smoothly.
He nodded, but his gaze didn't waver. "You're good at deflecting."
"And you're good at interrogating," she shot back with a strained smile.
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or curiosity. "Tell me something, Arabella. What made you move to the city?"
She stiffened slightly. "A fresh start. Doesn't everyone come here for that?"
Matteo leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with more interest now. "Fair enough."
They sat in silence for a moment before he stood. "I'm not trying to scare you. I just… can't shake this feeling. But I'll stop pushing."
Arabella exhaled. "Thank you."
As he turned to leave, he paused. "But Arabella… if you ever want to tell me the truth, I'm listening."
With that, he walked away, leaving her breathless and shaken.
---
Later that evening, Arabella returned home, her thoughts heavy. She had dodged another close call—but for how long?
Just as she entered her apartment, her phone buzzed again. Another message—from Elina.
> We need to talk. Now. It's urgent.
Arabella's heart sank. She called immediately.
"Elina? What happened?"
"There's been a leak," Elina said breathlessly. "Someone posted photos online—of you. From your debut as Isabella Romano."
Arabella froze. "What?! Where?"
"A gossip blog. It hasn't gone viral yet, but people are already commenting. Some are saying it's fake, but others are speculating. Arabella… this is bad."
Arabella sank onto her couch, her body trembling. "It's all falling apart."
"We can still contain it," Elina said quickly. "We can claim it's a look-alike, maybe even hire someone to pose as the real 'Isabella.'"
Arabella rubbed her temples. "That won't stop Matteo. He'll start digging more."
Elina was silent for a moment. "Then maybe it's time you told him the truth."
Arabella's breath caught. "I can't. Not yet. Not until I know how he'll react."
"You're running out of time, Bella."
"I know."
She ended the call and stared out the window. Outside, the city moved on like nothing had changed. But her world was unraveling piece by piece.
The truth was knocking, louder and louder, and soon—no lie would be enough to silence it.