Chapter 5

Ophelia’s POV

The next day, my mother texted me just before lunch.

Meet me at the cafe on 5th Street. Come alone. I need to talk to you. It's important.

I stared at the message for a few seconds.

A few days ago, when I told her I was leaving Matteo, she had said there was something important she needed to tell me. She had refused to explain and only told me she would text me when the time was right.

Maybe this was what she had meant.

I changed into a pair of jeans and a plain white sweater before taking a cab to 5th Street.

I didn't let Matteo's men suspect anything, even when they insisted that one of them accompany me after I refused to use one of the cars in the garage. I only told them I was going for a walk and would be back soon.

Matteo was out for business, as usual.

The cafe was quiet when I arrived. I spotted my mother sitting near the window.

Victoria was fifty-six now, but she still looked younger.

Her dark brown hair had a few strands of gray running through it, and she wore a simple beige blouse with black trousers. There was nothing unusual about the way she looked. To anyone watching, she was simply a mother meeting her daughter for lunch.

But seeing her again after six years still felt strange.

She looked up and smiled when she saw me.

“Ophelia.”

I walked over and hugged her. She held me for a moment before letting go.

“Sit down,” she said. “You must be hungry.”

I smiled faintly and pulled out the chair opposite her.

“I am. But you’re the one who asked me to come here.”

“I know.”

A waiter came over, and we ordered lunch. Once he left, my mother looked at me again.

I studied her face. “You told me a few days ago that there was something you needed to tell me. Is that why you texted me?”

Her expression grew serious.

“Yes.”

I waited for her to continue.

She glanced around the cafe before reaching into her handbag and taking out a small leather folder.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

I looked at the folder, then back at her. “Mom, you’re starting to scare me.”

“I know.”

She placed the folder on the table between us.

“Before I tell you anything, promise me you will let me finish before you ask questions.”

My brows pulled together. “Okay.”

She took a slow breath and opened the folder.

“The name Romano is not your true surname name.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“You were born Princess Ophelia Bellafonte.”

I stared at her. “Princess?”

My mother nodded. “Your father was Adrian Bellafonte, the former King of Valedoro.”

I looked at her as if she had started speaking another language.

“What are you talking about?”

She turned the first photograph toward me.

I picked it up.

The picture showed a younger version of my mother standing beside a man I had never seen before. He had dark hair, familiar brown eyes, and a serious expression.

I looked at the photograph again.

There was something about his face that felt strangely familiar.

My mother placed another photograph beside it. This one showed a baby wrapped in a white blanket. A small royal crest was embroidered on the blanket.

Then she placed several documents on the table.

My name was written clearly across one of them: Ophelia Bellafonte.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper.

“No,” I whispered.

“It’s true.”

I looked at my mother. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“Because I was trying to keep you alive.”

She reached for one of the documents. “Years ago, there was a political struggle in Valedoro. Your father had enemies, and the royal family was attacked. He disappeared during the chaos.”

She paused. “I escaped with you. You were still a baby.”

I looked down at the photograph in my hand.

For the first time, I wondered how much of my life had actually been true.

“I changed your identity and raised you away from Valedoro because the people searching for you never stopped looking for the missing princess.”

I swallowed. “You mean they were looking for me?”

“Yes.”

I stared at her. “So all these years, I thought I was Ophelia Romano.”

“You are still Ophelia. That part was never a lie. Romano was my father's name. I gave it to you so no one would connect you to the Bellafonte family.”

I looked down at the papers again. The name Princess Ophelia Bellafonte still looked strange on the page.

None of it felt real.

Then I remembered the sapphire brooch.

My eyes lifted slowly. “The brooch.”

My mother went still.

“You gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. It belonged to my father. You told me that yourself.”

She nodded. “It is a Bellafonte family heirloom.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to process everything.

There was something else I needed to ask.

“You said my father disappeared.”

My mother held my gaze.

“Is he dead?”

She was quiet for several seconds. “We never found his body.”

I stopped breathing for a moment. “What does that mean?”

“It means Adrian may still be alive.”

I stared at her. Suddenly, the possibility that my father might still be alive mattered more than the fact that I was a princess.

I looked down at the folder and slowly closed it.

“I can't tell Matteo.”

My mother nodded. “Don't tell anyone.”

“I won't.”

I looked at her. “If this identity is still dangerous, then I need to keep it hidden.”

“Yes.”

I picked up the folder and held it against my chest. “I’ll keep it hidden until I need it.”

My mother reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“Then be careful. Whatever you do, don't let anyone know what you've learned. The preparations for your escape from the De Lucas are almost ready. I'll contact you again.”

I nodded.

For the first time, the strange things I had noticed around me began to feel connected.

That night, I returned to the study.

I opened my laptop and searched through old records about the Bellafonte family using every private source I could access.

I looked through records of old political conflicts, lists of known enemies, and the names of people who had worked against the royal family.

Then I noticed something that made my stomach tighten.

Several of those same names were now doing business with the De Lucas. There were private partnerships, shared accounts, and business connections I had never noticed before.

This was much bigger than Matteo's affair with Bianca and the money moving through my charity account.

I closed the laptop. Then I walked back toward the bedroom. The hallway was quiet until I passed Matteo’s study.

Soft moans came through the slightly open door.

I should have kept walking. Instead, I stopped and looked inside.

Matteo had Bianca bent over his desk, her skirt pushed up around her waist. He was buried deep inside her, fucking her with hard, steady thrusts. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk as she moaned his name. His fingers were digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks.

My chest tightened even though I already knew he had always betrayed me with her.

He had not only slept with his ex. He had brought their affair into our home, into his study, knowing I could walk by anytime.

I stayed there long enough to understand exactly what I was seeing. Then I turned and walked away without making a sound. When I reached our bedroom, I closed the door quietly and sat on the edge of the mattress.

My hands stayed steady, and I kept my breathing calm. The pain was still there, but my plan had not changed.

I only had to get through four more days, and then I would be gone for good.