Chapter 5 When worlds collide

Marco stared at me like he didn't recognize me anymore. Maybe he didn't. Maybe the man he knew died five years ago in that street, holding Eva’s broken body. 

“You're talking about erasing someone identity. You're talking about destroying a human being.” 

“I'm talking about getting back what was stolen from me.” My voice was cold. “Everything I built, everything I became, it was all for her. And they took her from me. But now she's back. And I'm not losing her again.” 

“She's not back. She's not Eva.” His voice raised. 

“Then why does she have the same face? The same grace? The same everything?” My voice rose despite myself. “Explain that, Marco. Explain how someone who looks exactly like my dead wife just happens to work in the same café where Eva and I had our first date. On the same night I decided to go there for the first time in five years. Explain that coincidence.” 

Marco opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no explanation. Because there there wasn't one. This was fate. This was Eva keeping her promise. 

“I need you to handle this quietly,” I said, my voice calm again. “No one can know about her. Not Isabella. Not the families. No one.” 

“Why? If you truly believe this is Eva, why hide her?” 

“Because they killed her once.” My jaw tightened. “I won't give them the chance to do it again. Untill she's ready, until she remembers who she is, she says hidden.” 

“Hidden? She's locked in a bedroom, screaming.” 

“She's confused and disoriented. Once she understands, once she remembers, she'll stop fighting.” 

“And if she doesn't remember?” What if she never becomes Eva because she's not Eva?” 

I looked at him with a cold expression. “Then I'll teach her. Every detail. Every memory. Every gestured. Until there's no difference between this girl and the woman I lost.” 

Marco shook his head slowly. “This will destroy you. And her.” 

“I'm already destroyed. Have been for five years. This is my resurrection, Marco. Mine and hers.” 

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he asked. “What do you want me to do?” 

“First, make sure the café owner stays quiet. Pay him whatever it takes. If he refuses, make it clear what happens to people who cross me.” 

“Done. What else?” 

“I need everything. Her apartment cleaned out. Her belongings brought here. Any friends, family, connections, I want a complete file by tomorrow morning.” 

“She has no family. Her parents are dead. No siblings. No friends that we could find. The apartment is barely liveable.” Marco pulled out his phone, making notes. “She's alone in this world.” 

Perfect. There's no one to miss her. No one to ask questions. No one to take her from me. 

“What about the loan?” Marco asked. “She owes her boss a hundred thousand. That's why she couldn't quit.” 

“Pay it off. I don’t want any legal ties connecting her to that place or that man.” 

her to that place or that man." 

“Understood.” 

I locked the door and took the elevator to my office, Marco was standing quietly behind me. 

Below me, Eva was crying or Flora. Whatever she called herself didn't matter. Soon she wouldn't remember that name at all. 

“Being me Eva’s things. The videos from our wedding, from our trips. Her clothes. Her jewelry. Everything I've kept in storage.” I ordered Marco as I stepped into my office. 

“Rafael….” 

“Just do it, Marco.” 

He left without another word. I stood there for a long time, listening to the distant sound of her screaming. It tore at something in my chest, but I pushed the feeling away. She was frightened and confused. But she’d understand soon. 

I poured myself a drink, finished it and headed back downstairs. 

The bedroom I'd put her in was in the east wing, far from the main house. The walls were thick. No one would hear except the guards positioned outside. I opened the door. 

She was on the bed, her back was still against the headboard, her eyes red from crying. The moment she saw me, she pressed herself further into the corner. 

“Stay away from me.” Her voice shook. “Please. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone. I'll disappear. Just please.” 

I closed the door behind me and walked slowly into the room. “I'm not going to hurt you, Eva.” 

“My name is Flora!” She screamed. 

“No.” I sat in the chair across from the bed. “Your name is Eva. Eva Valserro. You're my wife.” 

“I'm not your wife!” I don't even know you!” 

“Not yet. But you will. You'll remember everything. Our first date at that café. The way you ordered tiramisu and red wine. How you laughed at my terrible jokes. The night I proposed on the balcony overlooking the harbor. Our wedding. All of it.” 

She was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “I'm not her. I'm not Eva. I'm Flora Rossi. I've never been married. I've never even been on a date. You have the wrong person.” 

“I have exactly the right person.” I leaned forward. “Look at me, Eva. Really look at me. Don't you remember anything? Not even a flash? A feeling?” 

“No! Because I'm not her!” She was sobbing now. “Please, you have to believe me. I'm not your wife. Your wife is dead. I'm sorry for your loss, I really am, but I'm not her.” 

Something twisted in my chest at those words. Your wife was dead. No. No, that wasn't true. She was sitting right in front of me. Alive. Breathing and real. 

“You're are her,” I said quietly. “And I'm going to prove it to you.” 

I stood and walked to the door, opened it and spoke to the guard outside. 

“Bring the boxes from my office. All of them.” 

Within minutes, they were carrying in boxes of Eva's belongings. Her clothes. Her photos. Her journals. Everything I'd saved, everything I couldn't bear to throw away. 

I opened the first box and pulled out a dress. Blue silk, Eva’s favorite. I’d bought it for her birthday a year before she died. 

“Put this on.” I said softly. 

“What? No!” 

“Put it on, Eva. It's your dress. You loved this dress.” 

“It's not my dress! I've never seen it before!” 

I laid it on the bed. “Then humor me. Put it on and prove to me you're not her. If it doesn't fit, if you look nothing like her in it, then maybe I'll believe you.” 

She stared at the dress like it might bite her. Then she looked at me with desperation. 

“And if I do this? If I put on the dress and you see I'm not her, you'll let me go?”. 

I said nothing. We both knew I was lying. But she was trapped and desperate, so she nodded. 

"Fine. But turn around." She said. 

I turned my back, listening to the rustle of fabric as she changed. My hands clenched into fists. This was Eva. I knew it in my bones. Once she was in that dress, once I saw her the way I remembered, there would be no more doubt. 

"Okay," she said softly. "You can turn around." 

I turned. 

And my heart stopped.