Before the fire, my life was normal.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
My name is Lena Moretti. I'm nineteen years old. I was born and raised in Blackridge City — a place where skyscrapers touch the clouds and secrets sink deep into the concrete.
People used to say my family was "reserved."
I used to say we were private.
There's a difference.
At least, I thought there was.
My father owned "import-export businesses." That's what he told anyone who asked. He traveled often. Sometimes he would disappear for days without explanation. When I asked, he would smile and tap my forehead.
"You think too much, Lena."
Maybe I did.
My mother was softer. Elegant. Calm. She wore silence like jewelry. Even when she laughed, it was controlled.
Looking back now… I wonder what they were protecting me from.
Or what they were preparing me for.
"Lena! You're going to be late!" my best friend Sofia would shout every morning outside our gate.
Sofia Romano. Loud. Dramatic. Allergic to subtlety.
I'd roll my eyes and grab my bag. "I'm coming!"
Leo would run after me. "Wait! I want to walk with you!"
He was eight. Skinny. Always asking questions.
"Why does Dad always come home at night?" "Why do we have cameras around the house?" "Why can't I tell my friends what Dad does?"
I never had answers.
"Because we're rich and mysterious," I'd joke.
He would giggle.
God… that laugh.
We attended Blackridge Elite Academy — the kind of school where everyone drove luxury cars before they even had licenses.
Sofia used to tease me.
"You act like you don't care about attention, but everyone watches you."
"I doubt that," I'd reply.
But she wasn't wrong.
I wasn't loud. I wasn't dramatic. I just… didn't bend.
There's something about silence that makes people uncomfortable.
Especially boys.
"Lena!" a voice once called from behind me in the hallway.
I turned.
Adrian Keller. Captain of the swim team. Ego the size of the ocean.
"What?" I asked flatly.
He smirked. "You coming to the party tonight?"
"No."
"You didn't even ask where it is."
"I don't need to."
Sofia burst out laughing beside me. "She means she doesn't go to parties thrown by boys who think abs are a personality."
Adrian scoffed. "You'll regret ignoring me."
I tilted my head. "I doubt that too."
He never bothered me again.
I wasn't mean.
I just didn't entertain nonsense.
At home, things were different.
There were always men around my father.
Not friends.
Men in suits. Serious eyes. Low voices.
Once, I walked into his office without knocking.
The room went silent.
Too silent.
Papers were quickly closed. A black case was snapped shut.
My father smiled too quickly. "Lena. Didn't we talk about knocking?"
"I just needed help with calculus."
One of the men stared at me longer than necessary.
Not admiring.
Evaluating.
That night, I asked my mom, "What does Dad really do?"
She froze for half a second.
Then smiled.
"Business, sweetheart."
"What kind?"
"The kind that keeps us safe."
Safe from what?
I never got to finish that question.
Because the fire happened three weeks later.
And now?
Now I was sitting in a hospital hallway with smoke still in my lungs and ashes still in my hair.
Leo was asleep beside me, his small hand wrapped around my fingers like I might disappear too.
Aunt Mara stood in front of me.
Her eyes were red, but something about her tears felt… strained.
"Lena," she said softly.
"Yes?"
"We can't stay here."
I blinked. "What?"
She sat down beside me. "It's not safe."
The words made my stomach twist.
"Not safe from what?"
She hesitated.
That hesitation was loud.
"From people who might have wanted this to happen."
My pulse spiked. "You mean the fire wasn't—"
"No," she cut in quickly. "I mean… I don't know yet. But until we do, you and Leo can't stay in Blackridge."
I stared at her.
"You're saying someone did this?"
"I'm saying," she whispered, "your father had enemies."
Enemies.
The word echoed.
"Enemies from what?" I demanded.
Her jaw tightened.
"I can't explain everything now."
My chest burned worse than the smoke had.
"You can't? Or you won't?"
"Lena." Her voice hardened slightly. "I'm trying to protect you."
I stood up slowly.
"I don't need protection. I need answers."
She grabbed my wrist.
"You're leaving the country."
The hallway suddenly felt smaller.
"What?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?!" My voice cracked. "You can't just decide that!"
"It's already decided."
"By who?"
She didn't answer.
Leo stirred beside me. "Are we going home?"
There was no home.
I knelt beside him and forced a smile. "We're going on a trip."
"Where?"
I looked at Aunt Mara.
She held my gaze.
"To Italy," she said quietly.
Italy.
My father's homeland.
A place he rarely talked about.
A place he once told me we would "return to when the time was right."
Cold realization crawled up my spine.
"What's in Italy?" I asked.
Aunt Mara's eyes darkened.
"Your inheritance."
My breath stopped.
Inheritance?
We just lost everything.
Didn't we?
And why did it sound less like money…
…and more like a legacy?