Chapter 2: The Girl Who Lived
They didn’t kill me.
That was their first mistake.
They tried.
Smoke filled the house. The walls cracked. I remember the heat, the screaming, the sound of boots leaving before the roof collapsed.
I remember the voice.
Lorenzo’s voice.
I didn’t see his face that night.
But I remembered the way he spoke.
Calm.
Certain.
Just like tonight.
“You’re lying,” Silvio snapped.
“No,” Lorenzo said.
His voice had changed.
He believed me.
“That house,” he said slowly, “was empty.”
“It wasn’t,” I replied. “Not until you made sure of it.”
Dante turned halfway in his seat. “Boss, we should—”
“Quiet.”
Lorenzo’s eyes never left mine.
“What was your name?” he asked.
I hesitated.
Because names mattered.
Names got people killed.
But I was already in his car.
“Isabella,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
“Isabella Ricci,” I added.
That name hit him.
Hard.
Silvio went pale.
May you like
“That’s not possible,” he whispered.
“Apparently,” I said, “it is.”
