Isabella's head throbbed as sunlight streamed through the curtains. Last night's episode had left her exhausted, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her nightmares weren't just dreams.
A sharp knock at the door startled her.
"Miss Isabella?" It was Rafa. "Mr. De Luca requests your presence downstairs in thirty minutes. The family doctor has arrived."
Isabella sat up too quickly, wincing at the pain. "Doctor? I didn't ask for a doctor."
"It's not up for discussion. Thirty minutes."
His footsteps faded down the hallway. Isabella slowly dressed, her mind racing, why would Matteo suddenly care about her health? After last night's almost-kiss, she'd expected him to avoid her, not call a doctor.
Downstairs, Isabella found Matteo in the study with a woman in her late twenties. The woman wore a crisp white coat over an expensive-looking dress, her auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun.
"Isabella," Matteo said without looking up from his phone, "this is Dr. Elena Russo. She'll be examining you today."
Dr. Russo smiled, but something about it didn't reach her eyes. "Hello, Isabella. Please, have a seat."
Isabella remained standing. "I don't need a doctor."
"Your nightmares suggest otherwise," Matteo replied, finally meeting her gaze. "Dr. Russo specializes in memory disorders."
"I don't have a memory disorder. I had an accident."
Dr. Russo gestured toward the chair again. "Please, Isabella. I'm here to help."
With reluctance, Isabella sat down as Dr. Russo began with basic questions – her name, birth date, what she remembered before waking up in the Rossi home.
"Tell me about your earliest memory," Dr. Russo asked, shining a light into Isabella's eyes.
"I was thirteen. I woke up in a hospital with the Rossis beside me. They told me I'd been in an accident."
"Nothing before that? Not even fragments?"
Isabella hesitated. "Sometimes... shapes. Sounds. Nothing clear."
Dr. Russo exchanged a look with Matteo. "I'd like to run some tests. A brain scan, blood work, don't be scared, they are just simple procedures."
"Why?" Isabella asked, looking between them. "What's going on?"
Matteo leaned forward. "Your nightmares aren't random, Isabella. You were screaming about men with guns and a house on fire. Those aren't typical nightmares."
"I want to know why you're suddenly so concerned with my health," Isabella said, crossing her arms. "Yesterday I was just your servant."
"Your wellbeing affects your work," Matteo replied coldly.
Dr. Russo cleared her throat. "Isabella, I need to be honest with you. We've met before."
The room went silent. "What?" Isabella whispered.
"You were a child," Elena said softly. "Before your... accident."
Isabella's heart raced. "You knew me? How?"
"Our families were... connected. I was a few years older than you."
Matteo's phone rang. He glanced at it and stood. "I need to take this. Dr. Russo, continue the examination." He left the room, closing the door behind him.
The moment they were alone, Isabella leaned forward. "What aren't you telling me?"
Elena's professional demeanor faltered. "Isabella, you need to be careful. Your memory loss—it's not what you think."
"What does that mean?"Isabella asked.
Elena lowered her voice. "I can't say more here. But I'll run those tests, and then we'll talk."
Three hours later, Isabella sat in a private medical clinic as Dr. Russo examined her brain scans. Matteo stood by the window, his face unreadable.
"These results are... unusual," Elena said, pointing to images on her tablet. "See these patterns? They're consistent with chemically induced amnesia, not trauma."
Isabella stared at the colorful brain images. "Chemically induced? You mean... someone did this to me?"
"It appears so. These markers suggest a specific drug cocktail that was once used experimentally. It targets memory formation without causing physical brain damage."
Matteo moved closer, studying the images. "Are you certain?"
"The evidence is clear," Elena replied. "This wasn't an accident."
Isabella's world tilted. "Why would someone erase my memories?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Matteo said, his voice dangerously quiet. He turned to Isabella, eyes cold. "Who are you really? Why would you pretend not to remember?"
"Pretend?" Isabella stood up, furious. "You think I'm faking this? That I wanted to forget my entire childhood?"
"It wouldn't be the first time someone infiltrated my organization with a clever story."Matteo said clearly not amused.
"Your organization?" Isabella laughed bitterly. "I was taken from my home to pay a debt! I didn't ask to be here!"
"Yet your nightmares conveniently contain details about the mafia world," Matteo countered. "Men with guns? Houses on fire? Specific traumas that match events from thirteen years ago?"
"I don't control my dreams!"
Elena stepped between them. "Matteo, the scans don't lie. She's not faking amnesia—it was deliberately induced. She's a victim here."
Matteo's jaw tightened. "Or she's playing a longer game than we realize."
Isabella felt tears of frustration building. "I don't know who I was before the Rossis. Do you think I haven't wondered? Haven't tried to remember? I've spent thirteen years with a hole where my past should be!"
"Then you won't mind if we dig deeper," Matteo said. "Tomorrow, we'll try a more... direct approach to jogging your memory."
The threat in his tone was unmistakable.
"Matteo," Elena warned, "forcing memories can be dangerous."
"So is harboring someone who might be an enemy." He checked his watch. "We're done here. Rafa will drive you both back to the mansion."
As they stepped out of the clinic, Elena walked beside her in silence until, with a quick glance around, she slipped something into Isabella's hand.
"For protection," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Isabella looked down and saw a small gold locket resting in her palm, its surface warm from Elena's touch. It felt heavier than it should. When she looked up to ask what it meant, Elena was already a few steps ahead, her expression unreadable, offering no explanation.
In the car, Isabella clutched the locket tightly. What secrets could it hold? Why would Elena Russo risk Matteo's wrath to give it to her?
Whatever "direct approach" Matteo had planned tomorrow, it would change everything. And Isabella wasn't sure she was ready for the truth.