CHAPTER 4 - The Return

The morning sunlight spilled across the wide windows of her flat facing the canals. The smell of espresso and warm milk filled the air. Leo sat on the floor in his jammies, playing with his wooden toy plane. His laughter was bright, innocent, too pure for the darkness that once surrounded his birth.

Aurora mixed sugar into her coffee, watching him, her heart hurting with a fierce, protective love. “Careful, sweetheart,” she said softly as the little boy zoomed the plane too close to the edge of the table.

He grinned up at her, all dimples and fun. “Mama, the plane’s going to the moon!”

She smiled weakly. “Then make sure it comes back home safely.”

It had taken her years to make this quiet world one without fear, without Damon, without rumors of betrayal. Her fashion brand, AURELLE, had become the talk of Milan’s elite, praised for its mysterious creator who never attended her own galas. The world thought Aurora Vale was a name made for beauty. No one remembered Rory Hale, the disgraced Luna who disappeared after the Moonstone Gala scandal.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Until the knock came.

Three short, purposeful knocks that broke the peace of her kitchen.

Aurora froze, her mug hovering midair. No one came to her apartment without calling firstnot even her helper, not even her friend Clara who ran her store. Her heart began to pound.

Another knock.

“Signora Vale?” a man’s voice called from the other side of the door. Italian-accented English, smooth but strong. “It’s Matteo Rossi, from The Milan Tribune. I need a moment of your time. It’s… important.”

Aurora’s throat went dry. A writer. She never spoke to the press. Ever.

She moved quietly to the door, looking at Leo, who was now busy arranging his toy soldiers on the carpet. “Stay here, my love,” she whispered.

She opened the door with only a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

The guy outside was tall, with dark hair and eyes that studied her too closely. He held a small recorder and a box of papers under his arm. “Miss Vale,” he said, dropping his voice. “Please. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. It’s about your past.”

Her stomach twisted. “You’re mistaken.”

But he took a step closer, his look sharp and unwavering. “Am I? Because I’ve seen the birth records, the hospital logs, and the DNA results. You’re not who you think you are. You’re the real Moonstone fortune, Miss Hale.”

Aurora’s hand trembled against the doorframe. “What did you say?”

“I said you were switched at birth.”

The world turned. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. The words buzzed in her ears like static. “That’s impossible,” she whispered. “You must be confusing me with someone else.”

He opened the folder and gave her a phototwo babies, wrapped in identical blankets, lying side by side in a hospital bassinet. A note scrawled beneath in worn ink read: Hale / Blackwood Delivery Room, 27 Years Ago.

Aurora’s eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

“From someone who’s been waiting a long time to set the truth free,” Matteo said. “There was a cover-up. The Moonstone family’s nurse admitted before she died. You were switched with Celeste Blackwood.”

The name hit her like a knife. Celeste. The woman who stood beside Damon the night he refused her. The woman who had worn her place, her title, her fate.

Aurora’s pulse roared in her ears. “This can’t be true. Why would anyone do that?”

“Because your bloodline wasn’t supposed to mix with theirs,” Matteo answered quietly. “The Hale family carried the old Moonstone right. The Blackwoods wanted power. So they took it.”

Aurora sank into a chair, pressing her hands to her temples. “No… no, I can't, this is madness.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but the entire Moonstone Empire is in chaos. Celeste was discovered this morning.”

He turned the recording toward her and pressed play. A woman’s voice crackled through the staticCeleste’s recognizable shrill tone screaming as cameras flashed around her: ‘It’s a lie! I’m the true heiress!’ followed by the sound of guards taking her away.

Aurora stared at the device, the air thick and heavy. “She’s… being exposed?”

“Yes,” Matteo said. “And soon, the world will know that youAurora Vale, the mysterious designer, are the rightful Moonstone heir.”

Her mind spun, warring memories flashing in chaos: Damon’s rejection, her flight through the rain, the betrayal, the pain. All this time, she had been hiding from a name that was rightfully hers.

“But why now?” she asked hoarsely. “Why come to me now?”

He paused. “Because the board wants you to come back. They need you to claim your fortune before the company fails. And…” He trailed off, his eyes moving toward Leo, who was peeking curiously from the hallway. “Because your son has a right to it too.”

Aurora stiffened. “Leave him out of this.”

“I didn’t mean harm,” he said softly. “But secrets like these never stay buried. People will come for you, Miss Vale. Especially if they know who the boy’s father is.”

Her heart dropped. “You don’t”

“Oh, I do,” Matteo interrupted quietly. “He looks too much like Damon Blackwood to be anyone else’s.”

Aurora’s breath hitched. “You will not write that.”

Matteo studied her face, seeing the fire flicker in her eyes. “Then tell me the truth, and maybe I won’t.”

Silence stretched between them, tense and oppressive. Outside, thunder roared over the city.

Aurora turned away, her voice low and shaking. “I don’t owe that man anything. He dismissed me in front of the world. He left me to drown in shame. My son and I” she paused, blinking back tears, “we built our life from ashes. That’s all that matters.”

Matteo’s tone relaxed. “Then why does your voice shake when you say his name?”

She looked up sharply, her eyes burning. “Get out.”

But instead of anger, he only nodded, putting his card on the table. “You’ll need help when this story breaks. Call me before someone else does.”

And then he was gone, leaving her quite broken only by the low hum of the television.