Page 151 of This Life of Mine

I wait. I don’t fill the silence. I let her have it.

Because this is the part where people usually leave. At least that’s what I would expect.

And I need to know—before I give her any more of myself—whether she’s still here.

She doesn’t speak right away.

Lina sits with everything I’ve told her, turning it over carefully instead of recoiling from it. I can almost see the gears moving—this isn’t fear. It’s assessment.

Then she looks up. “When was the last time you had contact with your family?” she asks.

It’s not accusatory. It’s practical.

“Do they know you’re still alive?” she adds.

I nod once. “Those are the right questions.”

I inhale. “I haven’t had direct contact with them in years. Not since I changed my name. To them, Alessandro Moretti disappeared.”

“Disappeared how?” she asks.

“Enough that it was assumed I was dead,” I answer. “Or at least gone in a manner that didn’t invite searching.”

There was no body to identify. No confirmation. Just silence.

Her brow furrows. “And no one came looking?”

“They looked,” I say. “At first. But my father had bigger fires to put out. Power struggles. Enemies. Damage control. I became…inconvenient.”

That lands harder than I expect.

“So they don’t know you’re alive?” she asks.

“No, not for certain,” I confirm.

I pause, then add, “Reese has helped make sure it stays that way.”

Her eyes flick up. “How?”

“He monitors everything tied to my former identity,” I explain. “Financial records. Travel logs. Digital traces. Anything that could be connected back to me gets flagged. If something pops up that could lead to me, he erases it.”

“That sounds…constant,” she says.

“It is,” I admit. “But it works.”

“And your brother?” she asks. “Nico?”

“No contact. Not since I left. If he’s curious, he’s kept it quiet.”

She nods, taking a moment to process it.

“So as far as they’re concerned,” she says, “you’re a ghost.”

“Yes.”

“And you intend to keep it that way?”

“Yes.”