The Price of Stealing Bianca's Name
"Matteo, don't trust the man standing beside you."
The warning came from the darkness.
Bianca froze.
Enzo Marchetti stood beside Matteo, his hand resting on his radio.
But another Enzo was speaking from the hallway.
Same voice.
Same unmistakable roughness.
Same Italian accent.
Matteo turned slowly.
"Nobody move."
The Enzo beside him reached for his jacket.
Matteo caught his wrist.
"Don't."
For the first time all evening, the security chief looked frightened.
"Boss, I can explain."
"Then explain."
A flashlight snapped on.
At the far end of the hallway stood another man wearing a black security uniform.
His face was bruised.
Blood darkened his collar.
He held a radio in one hand.
And he looked exactly like Enzo Marchetti.
Bianca's breath caught.
"What is happening?"
The man beside Matteo suddenly lunged.
Matteo twisted his arm behind his back and forced him against the wall.
A small pistol fell from the man's jacket.
Enzo—the real Enzo—stepped into the light.
"His name is Carlo Marchetti," he said.
Matteo stared at the struggling man.
"Your brother."
Enzo nodded grimly.
"My twin."
Carlo stopped fighting.
He looked at Matteo with cold amusement.
"Still quick, Bellandi."
Matteo tightened his grip.
"Where's the ledger?"
Carlo laughed.
"Ask the girl in gold."
Livia began shaking.
"I didn't know he was your brother."
Bianca turned toward her.
"You knew him?"
Livia covered her mouth.
Carlo smiled.
"She knew enough."
Matteo forced him into a chair.
Enzo secured his wrists.
Bianca stared at the two identical men.
One had protected her family.
The other had apparently walked through the mansion using his brother's face.
"How long has he been here?" she asked.
Enzo looked ashamed.
"Long enough to steal my access card. He attacked me near the garage."
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
"And you?"
"I regained consciousness ten minutes ago. Found the guards he had locked inside the security office."
Carlo leaned back.
"You always were difficult to keep down, brother."
Enzo ignored him.
Matteo looked toward Livia.
"Start talking."
She glanced at Mercer.
The older man stood near the staircase, strangely calm.
Matteo noticed.
"Don't look at him. Look at me."
Livia swallowed.
"Carlo approached me six months ago."
Bianca felt her stomach drop.
"Six months?"
"He said he represented investors interested in the bakery."
"Did he ask you to steal my recipes?"
Livia nodded.
"At first, he wanted copies of the old notebooks. Then financial records. Then Grandpa's trust documents."
Bianca stared.
"And you gave them to him?"
Livia's voice broke.
"Yes."
The admission landed harder than Bianca expected.
She had known her sister was involved.
But six months meant planning.
Meetings.
Decisions.
Repeated opportunities to stop.
And Livia had continued.
"How much?" Bianca asked.
Livia blinked.
"What?"
"How much did they pay you?"
Her sister looked down.
"Two hundred thousand dollars."
Bianca went completely still.
Two hundred thousand.
The amount could have replaced the broken ovens.
Paid every bakery employee a decent wage.
Covered years of medical appointments Bianca had postponed.
Instead, it had bought Livia's cooperation.
Bianca laughed once.
"Was the dress included?"
Livia began crying.
"Bianca—"
"Was it?"
"Yes."
Bianca looked at the glittering fabric.
She remembered standing in the kitchen while Livia complained that the gold dress wasn't flattering enough.
She remembered Serena telling Bianca to stay out of sight because important guests were coming.
She remembered Matteo tasting the bread and asking who made it.
Everything had begun with a lie.
And the lie had been purchased.
Carlo chuckled.
"Your sister understood the value of appearances."
Bianca turned toward him.
"No. She understood the price of betrayal."
His smile disappeared.
Gabriel approached Matteo.
"We need the original ledger."
Carlo shrugged.
"Then perhaps you should have guarded it better."
Matteo looked at Enzo.
"Search him."
Enzo removed Carlo's phone, wallet, and a small electronic access device.
No ledger.
Matteo turned toward Mercer.
"Where is it?"
Mercer smiled faintly.
"You're assuming I know."
"Your people entered this house. Your associate impersonated my security chief. And the evidence disappeared."
"An unfortunate coincidence."
Matteo stepped closer.
"Richard."
Mercer's smile faded.
Matteo lowered his voice.
"You built your empire by making people afraid of losing what they loved."
He glanced toward Bianca.
"That stops tonight."
Mercer laughed.
"You think you're different from your father?"
"Yes."
"Then you're more foolish than I thought."
Matteo didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward Gabriel.
"Call the investigators. Tell them we have the man who impersonated my security chief, along with evidence of the theft."
Gabriel nodded.
Mercer's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, Bianca saw uncertainty cross his face.
The lights returned.
Bianca blinked against the sudden brightness.
Enzo's team began securing the hallway.
Carlo was escorted into a locked room.
Mercer remained under guard.
And Livia stood alone beneath the chandelier.
Bianca approached her.
"Why did you do it?"
Livia wiped her cheeks.
"I thought if I helped them, Dad's debts would disappear."
"You already told me that."
"I know."
"Then tell me the real reason."
Livia stared at her.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "Because I was jealous."
Bianca felt something tighten in her chest.
Livia continued.
"Everyone said I was the beautiful one. The charming one. The daughter who would marry someone important."
She laughed bitterly.
"But whenever Grandpa looked at you, he looked proud."
Bianca stared.
"He was proud of you too."
Livia shook her head.
"Not the same way."
Her voice broke.
"You could make something with your hands that people loved. I couldn't."
Bianca looked at her sister's trembling fingers.
"So you took what I made."
"Yes."
"And when people praised you, you let them."
"Yes."
"Even when you knew how much it hurt me."
Livia began sobbing.
"Yes."
Bianca closed her eyes.
She had spent years imagining what it would feel like to hear her sister admit the truth.
Now that the moment had arrived, she felt only sadness.
"Do you know what hurts most?" Bianca whispered.
Livia shook her head.
"I would have helped you build something of your own."
Her sister covered her face.
"I know."
Bianca stepped backward.
"But I won't let you keep taking mine."
Gabriel returned with a new document.
"Bianca, the court has issued an order preserving the disputed assets until ownership can be determined."
She looked up.
"Does that mean they can't sell the recipes?"
"Not while the order remains in effect."
Relief washed through her.
Then Gabriel continued.
"And the trust administrator has recognized Moonrise Artisan Holdings as a separate legal entity."
Bianca frowned.
"That's my company."
"Yes."
Matteo smiled faintly.
"Your fourteen-million-dollar company."
Bianca shook her head.
"I still can't believe that."
Gabriel opened the document.
"There's more. The company owns licensing rights to your original commercial formulas. If the records hold up, the Rossetti family may owe substantial unpaid royalties."
Bianca looked toward Vittorio.
Her father stood near the doorway.
For years, he had controlled every dollar she earned.
Now the financial records were turning against him.
"How much?" she asked.
Gabriel hesitated.
"Potentially several million dollars, depending on the accounting and the enforceability of the agreements."
Vittorio suddenly stepped forward.
"This is ridiculous!"
Everyone turned.
"Bianca lived under my roof! Ate my food! Used my equipment!"
Bianca stared at him.
Then she laughed.
A quiet, disbelieving laugh.
"Your equipment?"
Vittorio's face reddened.
"Yes!"
"The mixer Grandpa bought?"
He froze.
"The ovens I repaired with my own savings?"
"Bianca—"
"The ingredients Rosa helped me pay for when you refused?"
Vittorio looked away.
Bianca stepped closer.
"You gave me two hundred dollars a week and told me I should be grateful."
Her voice grew stronger.
"Meanwhile, you were using my work to pay for everything."
Vittorio opened his mouth.
She raised one hand.
"No."
He stopped.
"You don't get to explain this away anymore."
Matteo watched her from across the room.
The woman he had first seen standing behind a kitchen door was gone.
Or perhaps she had never been what her family claimed.
She had simply been waiting for someone to stop telling her she was small.
Bianca turned toward Gabriel.
"What do I need to do?"
"Preserve the records. Cooperate with investigators. And decide what you want for the future of your company."
She nodded.
"I want an independent audit."
Gabriel smiled.
"Good."
"And I want every employee paid what they're owed."
Matteo's expression softened.
Gabriel nodded.
"We can review the payroll records."
Bianca looked toward the kitchen.
"Rosa deserves a raise."
Matteo almost laughed.
"That may be the first executive decision you've made tonight."
Bianca smiled.
"Then I'd better make it a good one."
An hour later, Bianca found Matteo standing on the balcony overlooking the garden.
The rain had stopped.
Water glistened on the stone paths.
She stepped beside him.
"Are you hiding?"
He looked at her.
"Thinking."
"About what?"
"My father."
Bianca leaned against the railing.
"Do you believe he knew what Mercer was doing?"
Matteo took a long breath.
"I believe he knew enough to stop it."
She nodded slowly.
"And didn't."
"No."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Bianca asked, "Do you think people can become different from their parents?"
Matteo looked at her.
"I hope so."
She smiled faintly.
"Me too."
He studied her.
"How are you holding up?"
Bianca laughed softly.
"My grandmother is alive. My grandfather is alive. My mother lied about my father. My sister stole my recipes. And apparently I'm worth fourteen million dollars."
Matteo smiled.
"When you put it that way..."
"I sound completely insane."
"No."
He turned toward her.
"You sound like someone who survived a very long night."
Bianca looked down.
"Matteo?"
"Yes?"
"About your proposal."
His expression changed.
"You don't owe me an answer."
"I know."
She took a breath.
"I don't want to marry you because I'm afraid."
"Good."
"And I don't want to marry you because of money."
"Also good."
She looked up.
"But I would like to know you."
Matteo went still.
"Really?"
Bianca smiled.
"Really."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then gently offered his hand.
She took it.
And for the first time, the touch felt like a choice rather than a rescue.
A sharp knock sounded behind them.
Enzo appeared.
"Boss. We found the ledger."
Matteo turned.
"Where?"
"In Carlo's vehicle."
Bianca felt relief.
"Is it intact?"
Enzo nodded.
"Yes. But there's something else."
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"The ledger contains an additional section."
Gabriel appeared behind Enzo, holding the book.
His face was pale.
"Bianca, I think you need to see this."
She stepped forward.
Gabriel opened the final pages.
There were several handwritten entries.
Dates.
Payments.
Names.
And one heading.
Identity Transfers.
Bianca frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Gabriel swallowed.
"These records appear to document the use of false identities to move assets."
Matteo leaned closer.
"Who signed them?"
Gabriel pointed toward the bottom of the page.
Vittorio Rossetti.
Serena Rossetti.
Richard Mercer.
And a fourth name.
Bianca stared.
It was hers.
But the signature was dated twenty years earlier.
When she was seven years old.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
Gabriel nodded.
"Yes."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"Someone used her identity when she was a child."
Gabriel turned another page.
A photograph appeared.
It showed a young girl standing outside the Mercer Street bakery.
Dark curls.
Round cheeks.
A small crescent-shaped scar near her thumb.
Bianca.
But beside the photograph was a second image.
Another little girl.
Almost identical.
Same dark curls.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Bianca felt the world tilt.
"Who is that?"
Gabriel looked at her.
His expression was grave.
"According to the ledger, both girls were registered under the same name."
Bianca stared.
"Bianca Rossetti?"
Gabriel nodded.
Matteo leaned closer.
"Why would they do that?"
Gabriel turned the page.
There was a handwritten note.
One identity. Two beneficiaries. Only one can inherit.
Bianca stopped breathing.
Then her phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
You finally found out about me.
Another message arrived.
I've been waiting twenty years for you to remember.
Bianca's hands shook.
Matteo looked at the screen.
"Who is it?"
Before she could answer, a photograph appeared.
A woman stood outside the original Mercer Street bakery.
She looked exactly like Bianca.
Same dark curls.
Same brown eyes.
Same crescent-shaped scar near her thumb.
But beneath the photograph was a name.
Bianca Mercer.
And a final message.
I'm not your sister.
I'm the girl they buried in your place.
Bianca stared at the screen.
Then the front doorbell rang.
Enzo checked the security camera.
His face drained of color.
"Boss..."
Matteo turned.
"What?"
Enzo swallowed.
"There's a woman at the gate."
Bianca looked toward the monitor.
The woman raised her face.
She was smiling.
And she was wearing Bianca's old burgundy apron.
Then the intercom crackled.
"Tell Bianca Rossetti her replacement has arrived."
May you like
The front gate began opening.
But nobody had touched the controls.
