~ Alina’s POV

Ever since I came to Florence for a job opportunity, I have never felt better about myself. My job was to digitize old legal archives with accuracy, and working alone has always been the biggest perk of the job. Under the dim light of the lamp, I went through the almost-torn file, typing away on the computer, making sure no detail was left unattended.

I stretched my back and sighed in relief when I was done with the file and moved to put the file in the pile that was ready to be shredded. Once I was done with digitizing the records, the hard copies were shredded, as if never to be seen again.

Adjusting my glasses, I moved to the shelf, working through the files and moving on to the next when my fingers stopped on an elite family name. My breath caught when I realized that the file belonged to an extinct noble family, “The Russos.“ Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I tried to type in the pin to access the cabinet it was stored in. I frowned when I realized that the pin wasn’t working, and it wouldn’t give me access to the file.

“That’s weird,“ I murmured as I moved to the cabinet next to the noble family, and it opened with ease. I was already suspicious at this point, so I did something I knew I would get in trouble for. I went to my desk and typed away, making sure no one was around and that my history would be gone by the time I was done. I quickly removed security on all of the cabinets and rushed to pull the file out before hurrying back to the desk and restricting the cabinets again.

Blood pumped fast through my veins as I looked around once more, making sure I was alone before I did what I clearly was forbidden to do. I opened the file as my heartbeat drummed through my eardrums.

I looked through it, trying to catch something…anything that would show why it was placed in such secrecy, but I couldn’t find anything. As I was about to close the file, my file landed on a page where two names were written down. My breath hitched when my eyes landed on the bold letters.

Elena Moretti

Luca Moretti

My parents. My deceased parents. Mom and Dad, who died years ago in an accident.

“No…“ I whispered as confusion spiralled through my mind. But before I started overthinking, I checked twice. Maybe they were someone else and only had the same names as my parents. I flipped through the pages again, and the details of their death didn’t even match one bit to what actually happened…or what was shown to me.

I looked at the profiles of those two people, and a shiver ran down my spine when I realized that their birth date and death date were the same as my parents’. Tears welled up in my eyes when the flashback of the accident hit me. I was told that they died in a car accident….not murdered.

~ Flashback

“No…please…officer, there must be something you can do, please. They never drove recklessly. It is impossible that it was a drink-and-drive case…“ I rambled on to the officer in charge, begging him to continue with the investigation they had closed, saying that the driver was reckless.

“Listen, lady, every kid thinks their parents are angels until they’re shown otherwise. So, step out now and—“

“Luke, stop…“ The other officer hushed him and moved towards me. I had rushed to the hospital when I learned that they closed the investigation because it was a drink-and-drive case, but I knew… I knew it in my gut that it was not the case.

“Look, Alina…can I call you that?“ I looked at him, tears staining my cheeks, and nodded hesitantly, wiping my nose with the napkin he gave me. “I know it’s hard to accept, but trust me, we don’t have a choice. We simply closed the investigation based on the findings we got, okay? There’s nothing we can do, kid.“

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, nodding my head as if I understood what he was trying to say, as if I accepted…but I didn’t.

~ End of Flashback

“This….It can’t be…“ I stuttered as I hurriedly wiped my tears and continued to flip through the pages, trying to make sense of why their deaths were mentioned in a random file. Not just a random file, but under the name of the most noble extinct family. I watched as the details started to change, the details of their death. When my eyes fell on the date of the file, my breath caught.

The date written was five years after their actual death. My hands started to tremble when the realization settled in. It wasn’t just a random false case; they fabricated it years after their death. I opened the computer, rummaging through the system, trying to find anything, any link that could give me clarity, help me understand what the hell was actually going on here.

I moved to the system and put in “The Russo“ name, and nothing showed. With a huge pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat, I removed the name and entered “Moretti.“

I gasped, and my eyes flew wide open when I saw multiple entries in the system, relating to “Elena Moretti“ and “Luca Moretti.“

I scrolled to the end and opened the first-ever entry of their name with shaky breath, trying to keep myself grounded even though I was on the verge of breaking down. I quickly wiped my tears to see clearly, and when I realized that there were multiple annotation layers of the file, revealing previous versions of the details, my heart flipped.

I opened the first entry and gasped when the file opened and revealed details that even I wasn’t aware. Details about my parents that were never disclosed…not even by them.

~ Alina’s POV

I moved with the bag in my hand, tightly clutched, making sure I wouldn’t lose it. When I stepped out of the building, my eyes fell on a pitch-black silhuoette standing just a few feet away from my car. My eyes widened as I stared at his calm composture. I moved a few feet forward and when our eyes met, my breath caught and my body went numb.

~ Flashback

I hurriedly collected the files and copied the digital records into my personal pen drive. When I looked around and was sure that there was no one around, I rushed. I moved swiftly and logged out before walking out of the building with trembling legs and a mind filled with spiralling thoughts.

When I reached my apartment, I locked the door and scattered the files on the floor before picking up my laptop and placing it beside the files. With a deep breath, I tied my hair in a bun and sat down on the floor, laying out all the files clearly in front of me and opening the digital records on my laptop. This specific moment made me realise that I should be grateful I was a tech genius and knew how to take care of my digital footprints.

I watched through all the digital records and realised that someone was manipulating them, changing them from time to time as if to alter the history itself. My breath caught in my throat when I read that their identities had been changed to “Russo“ after the accident to give them the history someone wanted.

But it ended there, and I realised I had to go back to the archives to find out more, to find out who was behind all of this, to find out who my parents actually were.

With a new goal in mind, I wrapped up everything and decided to investigate further on my next shift, even though a heavy pit settled in my stomach, warning me of the danger it contained.

~ The Next Day

“Alina! How are you?“ Marco, the coworker who worked the morning shift, held his hand out, and I took it, trying to keep up a positive appearance.

“I’m good, and you?“ There was a tremble in my voice when I spoke. I cleared my throat and passed him a smile so he wouldn’t get suspicious and ask me questions I didn’t want to answer.

“Everything alright?“ He raised his brows, and I nodded, assuring him that everything was fine even though the world was crumbling under my feet. He nodded and bid goodbye as he made his way out of the building. I punched in and went straight to the desk, eager to find more clues, to find something that would lead me to definite answers.

As I moved through multiple files, I noted down the ones that restricted my access, just like when I tried to access the Russos’ file. Once I had enough names, I moved to the desk and altered the complete access from every cabinet and moved swiftly before anyone came and tried to interject.

I hadn’t even noticed how long it had been when I took out the files and started investigating them. If there was something common in all of them, it was one thing: patterns.

Similarly, other families and estates had their records altered just like how Russo were substituted with the Morettis—my family. The repeated references to the city’s elite families and their legal histories and the properties that had an in-depth link to properties in Milan… a lot of it didn’t make sense.

I sat down on the chair, head in between my hands as I tried to grasp all of the information I had just single-handedly discovered. If all of this were available here, why has no one made a move yet?

Then it hit me, I moved…as swiftly as a rabbit and tried to go through the access logs, but to my surprise, it had already been wiped clean. My breath hitched in my throat when the possibility was confirmed that some higher-up was definitely involved in tampering with records. But the only question was…why? Why would someone tamper with property records? They were one of the most common frauds anyone could ever do.

But then it hit me…what if they’re staged as property frauds?

I stood up and moved back to the files and it was then that I noticed something from the corner of my eyes. I subtly moved my head a bit to my right and realized that the CCTV camera had moved from its position and was now facing me.

A shiver ran down my spine when the realization settled in…this can’t be…

So, I did what I thought was best. I clocked out and drove to the place I knew will definitely have the answers I’m looking for. I drove past the old buildings of Florence, and for some reasons, they screamed at me to turn back. But now I was too deep in to do so.

I parked the car a bit far from the building to ensure I remained hidden and entered the building, glad it didn’t have as much security as the new building did. The archives in this building were older than most of the genreations alive here and it was the only place that could actually talk to me.

Glad I knew the layout of the building, I made my way straight to the file I wanted to find, “The Russos.“ I slid it out and almost groaned in annoyance when I realized that it had also been tampered with. The bold word “Official“ on the file was proof someone didn’t want me reaching into history but I wouldn’t stop here…not when I was so close.

So, I moved swiftly, making sure the building didn’t even remember I was ever here, or had any proof of my presence. Once I was satisfied, I hurriedly picked up the file I wanted and stashed it in my bag.

~ Alina’s POV

Before I could make my move, the guy vanished, and no matter how much I looked around, he was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging it off, I got back into my car and drove off, a thousand questions spiralling in my mind, waiting for answers.

~ The Next Day

The moment I stepped into the archive building the next morning, something felt… wrong. It wasn’t loud or obvious, not something I could point at and explain, but it was there, settling deep in my chest like a quiet warning I couldn’t ignore. I tightened my grip on my bag and walked forward anyway, my heels echoing faintly against the marble floor as I tried to steady my breathing.

“You’re overthinking,” I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to focus on the routine, on the familiarity of this place that had always felt like a sanctuary to me before. But the second I turned toward my workstation, my steps came to an abrupt halt, and the breath I had been trying so hard to control slipped right out of me.

That guy was already there. He leaned casually against my desk, as if he had every right to be there, as if he belonged in a space that required layers of authorization just to enter. The same man from last night. The same silhouette that had stood near my car, unmoving, watching.

My body went still as my mind struggled to catch up, my fingers curling slightly around the strap of my bag as I forced myself to take a step forward. He didn’t move immediately. Instead, he watched me, calm and composed in a way that made something cold settle beneath my skin. “Good morning, Alina,” he said smoothly, pushing himself off the desk as if this were a normal interaction, as if we weren’t standing in the middle of something I didn’t yet understand.

My heart skipped. “How do you know my name?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care enough to soften it.

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know a lot of things,” he replied, and something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.

I placed my bag on the desk slowly, refusing to look away from him. “You shouldn’t be here,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “This area is restricted.”

“So is accessing sealed archives without authorization,” he answered just as calmly, and the words hit exactly where they were meant to.

For a second, my fingers stilled against the surface of the desk, but I forced myself to recover quickly, turning slightly as I powered on my system. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice controlled, even if my pulse had started to race.

He let out a quiet breath, almost amused. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “You just happened to remove security protocols, access the Russo archive, and walk out with information that doesn’t belong to you.”

I turned back to face him slowly, my expression tightening despite my efforts to remain composed. “If you’re accusing me of something, you should bring proof,” I replied, lifting my chin just enough to show I wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t need proof,” he said, stepping a little closer, not enough to invade my space, but enough to make his presence feel deliberate. “I need you to stop.”

The simplicity of the statement made it heavier. “Stop what?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Doing my job?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp, observant, as if he was measuring something beneath the surface. “Let’s not pretend,” he said quietly. “You’re not just doing your job anymore.”

“And so what if I’m not?” I challenged, even though a part of me knew I should be more careful. “What exactly is it to you?”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice carried a different weight. “My name is Riccardo Valente.”

The name meant nothing to me, but the way he said it made it feel like it should. “And?” I asked, unimpressed on the surface, even if my instincts were telling me otherwise.

“I work with people who prefer their histories untouched,” he said.

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head slightly. “That sounds like a polite way of saying you cover things up.”

For a split second, something flickered in his expression, something I couldn’t quite place, before it disappeared just as quickly. “Careful,” he said. “You’re starting to sound like you understand more than you should.”

“I understand enough,” I replied, my voice tightening despite myself. “Records are being altered. Identities are being rewritten. That’s not preserving history, that’s manipulating it.”

His gaze sharpened slightly, and I could feel the shift in the air between us. “You shouldn’t have noticed that,” he said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done such a poor job hiding it,” I shot back before I could stop myself, the words slipping out with more bite than I intended.

Silence stretched between us after that, heavy and tense, and for a moment, I wondered if I had pushed too far. But then he exhaled softly, shaking his head just slightly. “You’re not afraid,” he observed.

“I am,” I admitted, surprising even myself. “I’m just not willing to walk away.”

Something in his eyes shifted at that, something deeper, harder to read. “People who don’t walk away,” he said quietly, “usually don’t get the choice later.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. “Is that a threat?” I asked.

“No,” he replied calmly. “It’s a fact.”

I swallowed, steadying myself. “Then maybe you should be clearer,” I said. “Because right now, all I see is someone trying to scare me into ignoring something important.”

“That ‘something important,’” he said, stepping back slightly this time, “is not what you think it is.”

“Then explain it,” I challenged immediately.

“I’m not here to explain,” he said. “I’m here to warn you.”

“About what?”

“About continuing this,” he answered. “About digging into things that were buried for a reason.”

“My parents are in those files,” I said before I could stop myself, the words slipping out before I had time to think. The moment they did, I felt it, that sharp twist of regret, but it was too late to take them back.

He didn’t react immediately, which somehow made it worse. When he finally did speak, his voice was calm, almost too calm. “I know,” he said.

My breath hitched. “What?”

“I know about Elena Moretti,” he continued. “And Luca Moretti.”

My chest tightened painfully. “You don’t get to say their names like that.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You’ve been reading about them all night.”

“How do you—” I stopped myself, my thoughts spiraling. “How much do you know?”

“More than you,” he said simply.

Anger flared, cutting through the fear. “Then tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me why their records were altered. Tell me why they’re linked to the Russos. Tell me why someone changed their identities years after they died.”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” he said.

“Then give me the right ones!” I snapped, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay composed.

He stepped closer again, lowering his voice. “The right question,” he said, “is why are you still alive?”

The words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. I just stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he had just said.