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Aurora

The bell above the door chimes softly as I step into the café the next morning. The familiar aroma of roasted coffee beans wraps around me like a comforting blanket. Anna and Max are already here, setting up the pastries and humming along to the soft jazz tune playing in the background. They smile when they see me, but I can’t bring myself to smile back.

I pour myself a cup of cappuccino and settle by the window. The cup is warm between my hands, but it does little to settle the chill that’s settled inside my chest since last night.

My mind is a mess.

I keep replaying what happened at the club, how fast it all spiraled, how that man touched me, and how he appeared out of nowhere. The way he looked at me, the way he held me after… no one’s ever done that. Protected me like that.

But what haunts me more is the presence of those mafia men in this town. This peaceful, quiet place I’ve built for myself. I’m terrified—not for me, but for everyone else. For Sofia. For Giovanni. Even for Anna and Max. They don’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of whatever I left behind.

Still, something doesn’t make sense.

That man ‘the mafia boss’ he can’t be the one my stepbrother handed me over to. That man was supposed to be a monster. A cold, calculating brute who’d chain me to a marriage for a business deal. Someone who would’ve had me killed for running.

But this man… he didn’t hurt me. He was gentle. Protective. Even kind.

Why would he be nice to me?

No. It can’t be him. I can’t afford to believe it is.

I take a deep breath, sip my cappuccino, and glance out the window as the town wakes up around me. For now, I’m still Aurora. And I still have my life here. But I need to stay alert. The past has found me once and it can find me again.

And next time, I might not be so lucky.

My phone rings.

I glance at the screen—an unknown number. I hesitate for a second before answering.

“Hello, this is the owner of Morning Ember café.”

A moment of silence. Then a voice, professional, quiet.

“Hello, I’m calling from the clinic. Ms. Valeria Rizzoto has been in an accident. Her condition is… quite serious.”

I freeze.

My heart plummets.

Mom.

The word echoes in my chest like a distant memory, like something that used to mean safety before it became tangled in fear and betrayal.

I grip the counter to steady myself, my voice barely a whisper. “What… what happened?”

“She was in a car crash. She’s in critical condition. We thought it best to inform her next of kin.”

Next of kin. They called me.

But how did they get my number?

My blood runs cold.

They knew. Someone knew I was here all along. Someone knew I was hiding in this quiet little town, in my quiet little café, living a life that wasn’t supposed to be mine.

And they said nothing.

Until now.

But who? And why now?

I hang up slowly, heart racing, thoughts spiraling.

I have to go back. Back to New York. Back to the place I swore I’d never return to.

But this time… I won’t be the same girl who ran away.

***

The silence in my apartment feels heavier than usual.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the open suitcase. I haven’t packed yet. I don’t even know what to take. My hands are trembling, my mind still racing from the phone call.

New York.

I said I’d never go back. I buried that part of my life so deep it barely felt real anymore. But now… I have no choice. She’s my mother, even if she stopped being my protector the moment she chose him.

I walk over to the closet and pull out a few clothes—plain, simple, layers I can blend in with. No flashy colors. Nothing that could draw attention.

I zip up the suitcase halfway before pausing.

I crouch down beside the floorboard and carefully lift the loose plank. My fingers tremble as I pull out a small box wrapped in an old T-shirt.

Inside: my real ID, passport, a few hidden papers, and the photo of me and my dad when I was a little girl—before chaos took everything.

I stare at the ID. My real name staring back at me. I haven’t seen it in so long it almost feels like someone else’s identity.

Valeria Rizzoto.

No. Not anymore. I’m Aurora now. But New York won’t know her.

I tuck the ID back into the box and set it inside my suitcase. Just in case.

I take one last look around my apartment, the warm pink walls, the small kitchen, the sofa with the old throw blanket. This place became home. Morning Ember became my peace. Anna, Max, Sophia, Giovanni… they became mine.

And now I’m walking away. Temporarily, I hope.

I grab my phone and text Sophia.

“I have to go away for a while. Family emergency. Please look after the café.”

She replies almost immediately.

“Are you okay?? Do you want me to come over?”

I don’t answer.

Not because I don’t want her to come. But because I know if she does, I might not leave.

I take a deep breath, zip the suitcase, and stand tall. I’m not the girl who was forced into a dress and handed over like property anymore.

This time, I’m walking in on my own terms.

***

I book a taxi without thinking twice, my fingers numb as I confirm the ride. The streets blur past the window as I stare outside, my heart thudding like a warning drum. One hour and thirty minutes later, I’m standing in the heart of New York—the city I swore I’d never set foot in again.

It’s loud. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Nothing has changed.