5. Learning to Smile

A week had passed since Isabella began adapting to her new life. Against all expectations, she felt neither uncomfortable nor out of place. On the contrary — with each day that went by, she had the strange sensation that she had always belonged to this family. Even so, she still had no memories from the real Isabella. Her mind held only her own history, her past intact, as if the previous life refused to disappear entirely.

She'd noticed something else, too. She and Isabella shared an unsettling physical resemblance. It wasn't identical, but close enough that anyone who looked carefully might recognize certain familiar features. The same eyes. The same shape of the mouth. Someone might think of Valeria… but of course, Valeria no longer existed.

That morning she was nervous.

She didn't show it, but she felt it. She left the residence early with Dante, who had insisted on coming along. During the drive he kept trying to lighten the mood with casual comments, gentle jokes, and a confidence that seemed natural to him.

"You're going to do great," he said. "Just be yourself."

Isabella nodded, breathing deeply as the car stopped in front of the Salazar building.

The moment they stepped out, the noise hit her.

Reporters everywhere. Cameras, microphones, overlapping voices. The news had spread fast. The only daughter of the Valcour family had woken from her coma. An heiress who had never been seen in public — always discreet, almost a myth surrounded by speculation.

Now here she was.

Isabella stepped out of the car with confidence, back straight, head high. Not a trace of timidity. She walked as if this world already belonged to her, as if the stares held no weight at all. Dante put an arm around her — protective, almost possessive — drawing a clear boundary for anyone who came too close.

The flashes didn't stop.

"Miss Valcour!"

"How do you feel after the coma?"

"Is it true you'll be working with the Salazars?"

Isabella didn't answer. She didn't need to.

They entered the building without looking back. The doors closed behind them and the noise outside was swallowed whole. Only then did Isabella release the breath she'd been holding.

The moment they crossed the building's entrance, a friendly-looking young woman greeted them at reception. Isabella introduced herself calmly, gave her name, and explained she had a scheduled interview. The receptionist nodded professionally, made a quick call, and asked her to wait a few minutes.

Dante checked his watch and smiled with resignation.

"I have to go," he said. "My agent just called."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead — not caring in the slightest that they were in a building full of people.

"Trust yourself," he added. "They'll be fighting over you before you even walk out."

Isabella smiled as she watched him leave. Then she sat down, hands folded in her lap. It wasn't long before the same receptionist came back and directed her to the floor where the interview would take place.

When she arrived, she saw immediately that she wasn't the only candidate. Several other women were already waiting — all well-dressed, some visibly nervous, others performing confidence. Isabella sat without drawing too much attention, taking in the space with quiet curiosity.

The interviews proceeded one by one.

When they finally called her name, she stood calmly and walked in.

She didn't expect to see him there.

Lucien was seated at the head of the table.

On either side of him were two other men — the area manager and another senior executive — both with slightly tense expressions. It was clear they had no idea the CEO would be showing up personally for an interview at this level. They glanced at each other with subtle surprise but said nothing.

Lucien cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat.

"I decided to… participate in the process today," he said. "A scheduling coincidence."

The excuse was so vague that Isabella had to hold back a smile. It struck her as absurd, improvised… and, for some reason, funny.

Lucien noticed her expression and looked away for a second, as if something had amused him too.

"Please, have a seat, Miss Valcour," one of the other men said.

Isabella sat, composure intact.

The questions came immediately. Academic background, professional interests, expectations. Isabella answered clearly, without rushing, without over-explaining. She talked about her interest in law, her desire to learn from the inside, to build something of her own. She made no mention of surnames, privileges, or connections.

Lucien watched her in silence.

Every so often he'd step in with a question — sharper than the others, as if he were trying to understand not just what Isabella knew but how she thought. She didn't flinch. She answered with certainty, holding his gaze without wavering.

The position was area manager for one of the company's strategic divisions. When the interview ended, the two men exchanged brief looks before nodding together. The decision was unanimous. Isabella had been selected without debate. Lucien hadn't intervened, hadn't given orders or tipped the scales. He'd simply watched.

Once it was over, they handed her a badge with her name on it, briefly outlined her responsibilities, and officially welcomed her to the team. Isabella accepted with a calm smile. She had taken the first step entirely on her own merit.

Meanwhile, in the reception area downstairs, someone else had just arrived.

Camila Montoya walked into the building with her face lit up by excitement. Today was the start of her university internship at Salazar Group. She had always been fascinated by this place. Its power. Its prestige. And above all, the man who ran it all from the top.

Her three brothers had come with her, cheering her on with smiles and words of encouragement, proud of their little sister. To them, this world belonged to her too.

That was when Isabella came out of the conference room with Lucien.

She was smiling.

But when she saw them, she stopped dead.

Tension shot through her body like a current. Seeing them again was like a thorn pressed in without warning. They, on the other hand, were smiling carelessly — oblivious to everything, as if her death had meant absolutely nothing to them. The irony felt almost cruel. They had never wanted her, not even after losing her.

Lucien noticed the change immediately.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Isabella smiled softly and kept walking.

"Yes," she said. "Everything's fine."

As she passed the Montoya brothers, she said nothing. She didn't look at them. She didn't acknowledge them. Camila, on the other hand, practically ran toward Lucien, extending her hand with a dazzling smile.

"Mr. Salazar, I'm Camila Montoya," she said eagerly. "It's such a pleasure to meet you."

Lucien reacted immediately. Entirely polite, but allowing no contact — he moved Camila's hand aside with care and took a step back, putting distance between them.

"Likewise," he said, with neutral courtesy.

One of the brothers stepped forward, looking uncomfortable.

"Excuse her," he said. "Camila's just excited. It's her first day."

Lucien nodded without adding anything.

Then the eldest Montoya looked at Isabella with a frown, as if something didn't quite fit. He extended a hand toward her.

"Sorry to bother you…" he said. "This is strange, but you look a lot like someone I knew."

Isabella held his gaze for one eternal second. Then she smiled — soft, elegant… and cold.

"That happens sometimes," she said. "Some people leave marks that are hard to erase."

She didn't shake his hand.

She turned and walked away beside Lucien without looking back.

The Montoyas stood there, unable to explain why that woman had left such an uneasy feeling in their chests. Isabella, meanwhile, walked with her back straight, her stride steady, and her heart ice-cold.

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