Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASSES
The wedding took place eleven days later.
There were no flowers covering a cathedral.
No magazine photographers.
No extravagant reception.
Just a private ceremony inside the Moretti estate attended by thirty people.
Adelaide wore an ivory dress she chose herself.
Mateo wore black.
When the priest asked whether she accepted him, Adelaide looked directly into Mateo's eyes.
“I do.”
Mateo answered just as quietly.
“I do.”
Afterward, Adelaide expected the awkwardness to begin.
Instead, Mateo handed her a key.
“What is this?”
“Your office.”
“My office?”
“You'll need one.”
“For what?”
“You'll see.”
The next morning, Adelaide entered the east wing and discovered a room overlooking the mountains.
Shelves covered one wall.
Two computer monitors sat on a polished desk.
A printer waited beside a locked filing cabinet.
There was even a small coffee machine.
She turned toward Mateo.
“You built this?”
“I had it prepared.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you look miserable when you're not solving something.”
Adelaide blinked.
That was the first time she laughed around him.
It surprised both of them.
Over the next month, she began working with Moretti's legitimate companies.
Mateo owned construction firms, transportation businesses, restaurants, and several commercial properties.
Adelaide noticed something immediately.
His books were cleaner than her father's.
Not perfect.
But honest.
“You're overpaying taxes,” she told him one afternoon.
Mateo looked up from his desk.
“That's the first time anyone has complained about me paying too much.”
“You're leaving millions on the table.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes.”
“Then fix it.”
She did.
Within six weeks, Adelaide recovered nearly four million dollars in legitimate tax savings and discovered another seven million in unnecessary operational costs.
Mateo never questioned her decisions.
He simply asked for explanations.
And when she was right, he said so.
That was more dangerous to her heart than any romantic gesture could have been.
One evening, Adelaide returned from Boston and found Mateo waiting in the library.
“You were followed.”
Her stomach tightened.
“By whom?”
“One of my men noticed a car behind you.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
Adelaide put her purse down.
“Who?”
“We're checking.”
Mateo noticed her hand trembling.
“Are you frightened?”
“Yes.”
He stood.
“You don't have to pretend with me.”
She looked at him.
“I've been pretending since I was nine.”
His expression changed.
She touched her scar.
“My mother died in the accident that caused this.”
Mateo said nothing.
“Everyone kept telling me I was lucky to survive. Then they started treating me like the damaged child who should be grateful for scraps.”
“You weren't damaged.”
“I know that now.”
Mateo stepped closer.
“Good.”
He reached toward her face but stopped before touching her.
Adelaide noticed.
He was waiting.
She nodded.
His fingers gently brushed the scar.
“Whoever taught you to hate this was wrong.”
Her throat tightened.
May you like
“For the first time,” she whispered, “I think I believe that.”
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