Chapter 92 HEIRESS OF MOLDOVAN

Chapter 92 HEIRESS OF MOLDOVAN
Here is a polished, novelistic English translation of the scene, enhanced for emotional depth and narrative flow:

It was a thirty-minute drive before Isabella, Tristan, and little Alina arrived at St. Catherine’s School. Throughout the journey, Isabella was trapped in a whirlwind of doubt, questioning the gravity of the decision she was about to make. Before Spade’s memories had vanished, she had promised him she would never leave his side. She never imagined she would reach a breaking point where she would be forced to break that vow.

"We’re here," Tristan said, his voice breaking her train of thought. He turned to her with a questioning look. "But what are we doing at this school, Isabella?"

Isabella looked at him, her expression weary. "It’s a long story, Tristan. But thank you for driving Alina and me here. You can head out now; I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore."

Tristan reached out, gently placing a hand over hers. "You and Alina are never a burden to me. Besides, I can’t just leave the two of you here alone."

"It’s okay," she insisted softly. "Nothing is going to happen to us."

"Even so, I’m staying," Tristan replied firmly. From the backseat, Alina peered over at them, her wide eyes moving to her mother.

"Mommy, what are we doing here?"

"Mommy just needs to talk to someone, sweetheart," Isabella answered. Tristan stepped out of the car and moved to open the door for the mother and daughter.

As Isabella stepped onto the pavement of the school—an institution owned by the Moldovan family—a heavy sense of finality washed over her. She knew there was no turning back now.

Alina grasped Isabella’s hand as they walked toward the entrance with Tristan. With every step, Isabella felt a sharp ache in her chest; she knew this choice would effectively sever her ties with Spade. Yet, she told herself this was for his own sake—and for the sake of his parents, who had suffered so much at the hands of her own flesh and blood.

If the day comes when his memories return, she prayed silently, I hope he finds another woman who can truly be with him for the rest of his life, even if it hurts me to think of it.

By the time they reached Selena’s office, Tristan was carrying a tired Alina in his arms. Isabella took a deep breath before knocking. She waited for a moment, and just as she was about to knock again, the door swung open to reveal Selena’s secretary.

"Who is the visitor, Secretary Jiang?" Isabella heard Selena’s voice drift from inside.

"It is Ms. Isabella, Chairman. Please, come in," the secretary invited, ushering them inside.

Upon seeing Isabella, Selena stood up immediately. She hurried from behind her desk, sensing that Isabella had finally come with an answer to the proposal they had discussed that morning.

"Isabella..."

"Hello. I’d like to speak with you," Isabella said, noticing Selena’s eyes drift toward her companions. "This is Alina, my daughter. And this is Tristan, a friend."

Selena nodded politely, then turned her full attention back to Isabella. "Come, let’s sit first. Secretary Jiang, please bring our guests something to eat—and an ice cream for the little one."

The secretary bowed and exited as Selena guided them to the sofa.

"Mommy, am I going to school here?" Alina asked innocently. Isabella smiled, stroking her daughter's hair as the girl sat nestled between her and Tristan.

"No, darling. But don’t worry, Mommy will find a school for you soon."

"She can enroll here, Isabella," Selena interjected softly. "She’s your daughter, which means she is my grandchild."

Tristan looked at Selena in stunned silence, his eyes widening at the revelation, though he kept his peace.

"I’ll think about that later," Isabella replied. "I came here because I’ve made a decision regarding what we talked about, Ms. Selena."

Selena reached out and took Isabella’s hands in hers. "It’s Aunt Selena, Isabella. You can call me 'Auntie.' You are the daughter of my brother, Matteo. We are of the same blood."

Tristan’s gaze snapped to Isabella, his shock deepening.

"To be honest," Isabella began, her voice trembling slightly, "it’s still hard for me to wrap my head around being part of this family. I’m still processing the fact that my true family—the one I never thought would find me—is the same family that brought so much pain and ruin to the man I love. But after everything you told me, I’ve decided to do what is necessary to bring peace to the Vasile family."

Selena let out a long, heavy sigh. "Believe it or not, Isabella, when I first suspected you were my brother’s long-lost daughter, I thought it might be better if you never knew the truth. I thought you would be happier staying with the Vasiles. But things went beyond my control. I tried to hide it from my father, but he found out anyway."

"They say no secret stays hidden forever," Isabella said. "I want you to know that I didn't make this choice because Spade forgot me, or because I’m hurt by what happened to him. I’m doing this because it’s the only way to protect the Vasile family, who were so good to me and my daughter. But before I fully embrace my identity as a Moldovan, I want you to take me to your father. I want to speak with him. I need to be certain that he will never harm Spade’s family again."

Selena nodded in understanding. "I understand, Isabella. I will take you to him today. I want my father’s cycle of revenge to end as much as you do. I believe he will listen to you. After all, you are the sole heiress to the Moldovan legacy."

Unable to stay silent any longer, Tristan blurted out, "You’re a Moldovan?"

Both women turned to him. "You know of the Moldovans, Tristan?" Isabella asked.

Tristan nodded slowly. "Yeah. My father is a board member of the Moldovan Empire. I just can’t believe that you’re a Moldovan—that you’re Don Tudor’s granddaughter."

"What is your name, young man?" Selena asked.

"Tristan Gomez. My father is Florencio Gomez."

"I know Mr. Florencio," Selena noted. "My father always admired his dedication to the Empire. So, you are his son."

Tristan turned back to Isabella, searching her face. "Is it true? You’re really one of them?"

"I didn't expect it either," Isabella admitted. "I grew up thinking I was someone else. When my foster parents told me I wasn't their biological child, I was curious. I wondered why they weren't with me. But now that I’ve found them... I don’t know how to accept this."

"Do you want to know what happened to your parents?" Selena asked. Isabella’s heart skipped a beat as she met her aunt's gaze. "Before we see my father, would you like to see their picture?"

"Is... is that okay?" Isabella whispered.

Selena smiled and walked back to her desk.

"I still can’t believe it," Tristan murmured, sighing as Isabella looked at him.

"Neither can I," she replied. "The last thing I wanted was to be involved with this family after what they did to Spade. But I have to do this for him."

"Spade Vasile is lucky to have someone love him that much," Tristan said. "But that man is a fool for forgetting you, of all people."

"He didn't choose to forget," Isabella defended softly. "In a way, maybe it’s better this way, now that I know I’m a Moldovan. He hates my real family for everything they’ve done."

Selena returned, holding a framed photograph. She handed it to Isabella.

Isabella’s breath caught as her eyes fell upon the two people in the photo. A strange, deep sense of familiarity washed over her, especially as she looked at the beautiful woman in the frame.

"These are your parents," Selena explained. "Your father, Matteo Moldovan, and your mother, Amara. They loved each other deeply. Your mother was a nurse when my brother met her. They fell in love, but our father was against it; he didn't want anything distracting Matteo from his plans. Matteo defied him, ready to give up the Moldovan name for her. But when we found out Amara was pregnant, my father had no choice but to accept it—on the condition that Matteo followed his every command. Do you want to know the rest? I know our family owes a great debt to the Vasiles, but your father was merely a pawn who obeyed for the sake of his wife and his unborn child."

Isabella nodded, her eyes never leaving the photo of her parents. "I want to know. Tell me everything."