The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 166 - One Hundred and Sixty-Six

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Six

Alicia’s POV

The days blurred together. Wake up, work, sleep, repeat. I cleaned rooms that were already spotless. Prepared meals that were barely touched. Kept myself busy enough that I didn’t have time to think about anything else.

Sophie was never around. She’d come back to the apartment late at night, sleep until noon, then disappear again. I wanted to talk to her, to ask where she was going and who she was with, but every time I tried, she’d slip away before I could start the conversation.

Cassie noticed. "She’s avoiding you."

"I know."

"Maybe you should make her talk to you."

"She’s seventeen. I can’t force her to do anything."

But it worried me. We were supposed to be hiding, staying low, and Sophie was out treating this like some kind of vacation.

I pushed the thought away and focused on work. Alessandro had been kind. Patient. He checked on me every morning, asked if I needed anything, made sure I was settling in. It should have felt normal, but it didn’t. There was something about the way he looked at me sometimes. Like he was waiting for something. Like he expected me to remember something I’d forgotten.

It had been almost a week when everything changed.

I was in the kitchen, preparing vegetables for dinner, when I heard voices. Multiple voices. Coming from the front of the house.

I froze. Alessandro had said the owner was away. That the house would be empty except for staff.

But these voices didn’t sound like staff.

I set down the knife and walked toward the entrance hall, staying close to the wall. The voices got louder. Italian mixed with English. A woman’s voice. Younger voices. Laughter.

I stepped into the hall just as they came through the door.

A family. That’s what they looked like. An older woman, elegant and composed, leading the way. Two men behind her, both tall and well-dressed. And a younger woman bringing up the rear, holding the hand of a little girl.

They stopped when they saw me.

The older woman’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Giuliana," she whispered.

I stared at her. "I’m sorry?"

She took a step forward. Then another. Her eyes were bright, filling with tears.

"Giuliana, is it really you?"

"My name is Alicia."

But she wasn’t listening. She kept walking toward me like she was in a trance.

"I thought I’d never see you again. They told me you were gone. They told me—"

"Mamma, stop."

One of the men moved forward. The older one, maybe late 50s. He put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, stopping her.

"Giuliana is dead," he said quietly. His eyes were on me, assessing. "This isn’t her."

The woman turned to him. "But look at her, Marco. Look at her face. It’s exactly—"

"She’s dead, Mamma. She died many years ago. You know this."

I felt anger rising in my chest. Hot and sharp. "I’m not dead. And I’m not whoever you think I am. My name is Alicia."

The younger woman, the one with the little girl, was staring at me. Her face had gone pale. I recognized her suddenly. The woman from the mall. The one who’d called me a ghost.

She’d been scared then. She looked terrified now.

Alessandro appeared from somewhere behind me. "Signora Moretti, I apologize. I should have prepared you. I should have explained."

"Explained what?" The older woman, Signora Moretti, looked between Alessandro and me. "Who is this girl?"

"Her name is Alicia. I hired her last week to help with the household. I didn’t realize the resemblance would be so..."

"Resemblance?" The other son stepped forward. The younger one. Alessandro. I realized suddenly that they had the same features. The same eyes. Brothers. "This is more than a resemblance. She looks exactly like Giuliana."

"I don’t know who that is," I said. My voice came out harder than I intended. "But I’m not her. I’m not a ghost. I’m not dead. I’m just someone who needed a job."

Signora Moretti’s eyes filled with tears. She looked old suddenly. Fragile.

"I’m so sorry," she said. "I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just... you look so much like someone I loved. Someone I lost."

The older son, Marco, guided her to a chair. She sat down heavily, still staring at me.

"This was a mistake," Marco said to Alessandro. "You should have told us."

"I didn’t know you were coming back today. You said next week."

"Plans changed." Marco turned to me. "I apologize for my mother’s reaction. And for my own. But you have to understand, the resemblance is unsettling."

"Who was she?" I asked. "This Giuliana?"

"My sister," Alessandro said quietly. "She died many years ago."

The younger woman, still pale, finally spoke. "I saw you at the mall. Last week. I thought I was seeing things."

"You called me a ghost."

"Because you looked like one. Because Giuliana is dead and buried and you look exactly like her."

Her daughter, Camila, tugged on her hand. "Mamma, who is that lady?"

"No one, baby. Just someone who works here."

Signora Moretti stood up. She walked over to me slowly, like approaching a wild animal.

"May I?" she asked, reaching out her hand.

I didn’t know what she wanted, but I nodded.

She touched my face. Gently. Her fingers traced my cheekbone, my jaw. Her eyes searched mine.

"You even have her eyes," she whispered. "The same color. The same shape."

"I’m not her," I said again.

"I know." She dropped her hand and stepped back. "I know you’re not. But looking at you... it’s like having her back for just a moment. And I’m sorry for that. Sorry for making you uncomfortable. It’s not fair to you."

Marco had his phone out. He was looking at something on the screen, then at me, then back at the screen.

"What?" Alessandro asked.

"Nothing. Just... the resemblance really is remarkable."

The younger woman, whose name I still didn’t know, picked up her daughter. "We should go. This was a bad idea."

"No," Signora Moretti said. "We’re staying. This is still our home. And Alicia is our employee now. We’ll treat her with respect and not make her feel like some kind of replacement."

She looked at me directly. "I apologize again. Truly. I hope you can forgive an old woman’s grief."

"It’s fine," I said, even though it wasn’t.

"What’s your full name?" Marco asked.

"Just Alicia."

"No last name?"

"Not one I’m using."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. Welcome to the Moretti household, Alicia. I’m Marco. This is my mother, Signora Moretti. That’s my sister, Francesca, and her daughter Camila. And you’ve already met my brother, Alessandro."

"And my children are at school," Marco added. "Matteo and Isabella. You’ll meet them later."

I nodded. Tried to smile. Failed.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

Francesca was still staring at me. Still looking scared.

And I realized something. This job, this house, this family. It was going to be more complicated than I’d thought.

Because they didn’t just see me when they looked at me.

They saw a ghost.

And I didn’t know if that made me safer or put me in more danger.