Chapter 3: Her Name Wasn't Elena
The rainy season fell upon Beijing with a quiet vengeance, and with it came the ache of a wound never healed.
Lucas sat in his car parked outside the crumbling gate of Elena's old school. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the rusted signboard swaying in the wind. It had been eight years. Eight years since that morning when she disappeared, leaving only a backpack, a void, and a lifetime of regret.
No one spoke her name anymore — not in the city, not in her family.
But he did. Every night.
He had tried everything: tracing school surveillance, interviewing teachers, interrogating her stepsister Anya — who still pretended innocence. Yet nothing. Her records were wiped. No CCTV footage beyond the school gate. No witnesses.
It was as if Elena Huo had never existed.
And still, Lucas knew — she was alive. Somewhere.
He could feel it like fire under his skin.
---
Far Away, Beneath Another Name
In the quiet suburbs of Florence, Italy — where ancient architecture breathed poetry and twilight held the scent of lavender — a young girl stood beneath the marble arch of the Bellavita Conservatory.
She was known as Elia William.
Fluent in Italian, brilliant in piano, and graceful as a shadow, she was beloved by everyone — yet intimately known by none.
The director of the conservatory, Madame Isobel, often said, "Elia is like winter mist. Beautiful, quiet, impossible to hold."
And truly, no one dared question her past. Charles William, the mysterious tycoon behind Arvenis Holdings, had adopted her when she was just eight — a frail girl found unconscious near a dock in Hong Kong, carrying nothing but a red velvet locket and a name that no longer existed.
Charles had told the world she was his niece.
Only Elia and he knew the truth — that he was her real father.
And that she had been taken from him when she was born.
---
A Memory That Refused to Die
That evening, Elia wandered through the dim corridors of the conservatory's music hall. Her fingers brushed across the black keys of the grand piano. A piece came to her — one she hadn't played in years.
A soft, broken lullaby. One she once hummed for someone under a tree filled with fireflies.
Her heart clenched.
"Lucas…" she whispered.
She had never said the name aloud in eight years. But it had never left her.
She had watched from afar when Charles first told her about his return to Beijing. About how he was acquiring Huo Industries to bring down James Huo. How he saw the boy in the boardroom — Lucas Lu, now tall, refined, and as cold as snow.
"He didn't recognize your photo," Charles had said gently.
"Of course he wouldn't," Elia said bitterly. "He probably forgot me the moment I left."
But her hands trembled now. Because the thought of Lucas's voice — even after all these years — still burned in her bones.
---
Meanwhile, in Beijing
Lucas's obsession grew darker.
He visited Charles William's temporary office again, alone. Charles, composed as ever, was reading through shareholder files.
"You knew her," Lucas said suddenly.
Charles raised an eyebrow. "I did."
"She left me without a word," Lucas's voice was sharp. "You seem to know more than the rest of us. Why didn't you search earlier?"
"I did," Charles said quietly. "But she was buried too deep. And sometimes... it's not the searching that matters. It's whether you're ready for what you find."
Lucas's knuckles turned white. "Then tell me. Who was she to you?"
Charles looked at him with a gaze that seemed to pierce through time. "She is my daughter. And once upon a time, she trusted you."
Silence.
Lucas stood frozen. "Your daughter… was Elena?"
"She is Elena," Charles corrected. "But she no longer uses that name. She lives, Lucas. But she doesn't know if you deserve to be part of her world again."
Lucas couldn't breathe. The words fell like thunder in his chest. She was alive. Alive.
He had promised to protect her.
And he failed.
Now… he would do anything to find her again.