Isabella Rossi never relied on luck. Every move she made was deliberate, every deception carefully crafted. When she decided to reach Alessia Moretti, she knew confrontation wouldn't work. She needed someone inside — someone trusted who would never suspect her.
That person was Clara Bianchi.
Clara wasn't just part of Alessia's household; she was the quiet presence managing her calendar, correspondence, and invitations. She handled the constant stream of messages from charities, social circles, and luxury brands — the kind of attention that followed Alessia everywhere.
Isabella easily found her name. It appeared on event programs, gala guest lists, and society pages. Clara Bianchi — personal liaison to Alessia Moretti.
Perfect.
Isabella created a new identity: Elena Marin, a representative from a European cultural society. She built the persona with precision — a polished email address, a professional website, and a digital trail that looked years old. Then she sent the first message.
From: Elena Marin
To: Clara Bianchi
Subject: Invitation — European Arts Circle
Dear Ms. Bianchi,
I'm reaching out on behalf of the European Arts Circle. We're hosting a private evening in Florence next month and would be honored to extend an invitation to Ms. Moretti. Please let me know if she might be available.
Clara replied the next morning, polite and efficient.
From there, the correspondence grew naturally. Isabella thanked her, asked about Alessia's preferences for travel and appearances, and praised her grace and generosity. She never asked for anything that sounded unusual.
Over the next few weeks, their exchanges became friendly. Isabella never asked for anything suspicious — not yet. She waited until Clara began to speak freely, until the tone of her messages softened.
Then, one evening, Isabella asked the question she had been waiting to ask.
Elena: "I'd love to send the formal invitation when Ms. Moretti is in town. Is there a time she's usually free? I wouldn't want to disturb her when Mr. Moretti is around."
Clara answered without hesitation.
Clara: "He'll be away for a few days next week. That's usually when she's more available."
That was all Isabella needed.
She thanked Clara warmly, promised to follow up, and ended the exchange. Clara thought nothing of it. To her, it was just another polite conversation about an event.
She didn't know that "Elena Marin" didn't exist. She didn't know that her simple reply had given Isabella the one piece of information she needed — the window of time when Alessia Moretti would be alone.
The following week, the estate was quiet. Damian Moretti had left for a late meeting, his convoy of cars disappearing into the distance.
Inside, Alessia sat in her private salon, reading through a pile of letters when her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: "Miss Moretti, this is urgent. Your father has been in an accident. He's been taken to the Romano's private hospital. Please come immediately."
Her heart stopped.
She tried calling her father — no answer. She tried Damian — voicemail.
Another message came through.
"He's asking for you. Please hurry."
She didn't think twice. She got up, grabbed her coat and car key, and hurried down the marble staircase.
She got in yo the car and slammed the door shut.
"Open the gate" she told the guard.
The guard stepped forward as the engine roared to life. He unlocked the gate but didn't move aside.
"Where are you going, ma'am?"
Her voice shook, but she kept it short. " Hospital."
She swallowed. "It's my dad."
"I can come with you," the guard said, already stepping closer.
She shook her head quickly. "No—no, I'm good. There's no time."
That was enough. The guard waved them through. The gates swung open, and the car sped out.
Clara was still at her desk, finishing correspondence, unaware of anything unusual. She didn't know Alessia had left.
To her, everything was normal.
And that was exactly how Isabella Rossi wanted it.