Chapter 2 - The Shadow of a Fake Identity
Riding the crowded bus toward downtown Chicago, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and replayed the events that had forced me to become Emma. Three years ago, Elizabeth Vance had everything—wealthy parents, a promising future, and a life mapped out by high society.
Then came the car crash that took my parents and left our family estate tangled in a web of corporate fraud orchestrated by my uncle. When I discovered he was planning to frame me for embezzling funds from my own family trust, I ran away with nothing but a backpack and a forged social security card bearing the name Emma Watson.
Working double shifts at the diner was my only way to survive while keeping my head down. Sneaking into the Obsidian Hotel as a catering temp was supposed to be a harmless way to make extra rent money, not a night that would tie my soul to a man like Alessandro Vitali.
When I walked into the diner, my manager shoved a stack of order pads into my hand before I even hung up my coat.
“Table four wants extra coffee, and hurry up because the morning rush is starting,” he snapped, turning away.
I tied my apron tighter around my waist, trying to focus on pouring coffee without thinking about the tiny heartbeat beginning to form inside me. By midday, my feet were throbbing, and the smell of grease was making my nausea flare up again.
Then the diner bell chimed, and the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. A group of men in sharp, expensive suits walked in, taking over the corner booth.
My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the tall figure leading them. Alessandro Vitali.
He wasn’t supposed to be here in this gritty, neon-lit neighborhood diner miles away from his downtown skyscraper. My instinct screamed at me to run into the back kitchen and hide behind the industrial dishwasher.
Instead, my frozen feet carried me forward because hiding would only draw attention. I grabbed an empty notepad and walked toward their table, keeping my eyes fixed on the laminated menu in my hand.
“Welcome, gentlemen. What can I get started for you today?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully modulated.
The other men at the table ordered quickly, but when I turned toward the head of the booth, Alessandro was staring intently at my face. His amber eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to place where he had seen me before.
“Just black coffee,” Alessandro said, his deep, resonant voice sending a shiver straight down my spine.
May you like
I jotted it down with a shaking hand, desperately trying to turn away. But as I reached for his empty water glass, Alessandro’s strong fingers suddenly wrapped around my wrist.
“Have we met before?” he asked softly, his gaze locked onto mine.
