Chapter 2 - THE SECRET BEHIND THE SILENCE
We didn't go to the train station.
Matteo ordered the convoy back to the estate.
I almost protested.
Then I remembered what he had said.
Someone has been watching you.
When we reached the gates, Carlo searched every vehicle twice.
The entire estate went into lockdown.
For the first time, I understood why Matteo had always seemed to know when I left the house.
Why a second car appeared whenever I went shopping.
Why he insisted that I never walk alone.
Why he became strangely cold whenever I mentioned traveling.
I had mistaken fear for indifference.
That didn't excuse him.
But it changed the shape of my anger.
Inside the study, Matteo placed a thick black folder on the desk.
“Three months ago,” he said, “one of my men found this.”
He opened it.
Inside were photographs.
My daily routine.
My mother's grave.
The restaurant where I had lunch with a friend.
Even the bookstore I visited every Thursday.
I felt sick.
“How long?”
“We don't know.”
“You knew someone was following me for three months and said nothing?”
“Yes.”
I slapped the folder shut.
“You don't get to decide what I can handle.”
His expression tightened.
“I know.”
“You don't get to turn me into a prisoner and call it protection.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He looked at me.
“Because the first threat contained a photograph of you sleeping.”
I stopped.
Matteo's voice broke slightly.
“That was the night I stopped sleeping.”
Silence filled the room.
He turned away.
“I had spent my entire life understanding violence. I understood enemies. I understood betrayal. I understood men who wanted money.”
He looked back at me.
“But I didn't understand what it felt like to have something I couldn't replace.”
I whispered, “Me?”
“You.”
He moved closer.
“I loved you before I knew how to say it.”
My eyes burned.
“Then why did you make me feel unwanted?”
“Because I thought if you hated me, you would leave before my world could destroy you.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“No.”
His mouth tightened.
“It was cowardice dressed as strategy.”
That sentence did something to me.
Because it sounded like the first honest thing he'd ever said.
Matteo opened another file.
“This is why I was late tonight.”
Inside were bank records.
Transfers.
Names.
Companies I recognized.
“What am I looking at?”
“Someone has been moving money through companies connected to my legitimate businesses.”
I frowned.
“These transfers are disguised.”
“Yes.”
I picked up the pages.
“Not well.”
Matteo looked at me.
“What?”
I pointed.
“This one.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“The invoice dates.”
I spread three documents across the desk.
“These transactions supposedly happened before the contracts were signed. Whoever created these records changed the dates after the money moved.”
Matteo stared at the papers.
“You can tell that?”
I gave him a tired look.
“I worked in forensic accounting before I married you.”
“I know.”
“No. You know I worked in accounting. You never asked what I did.”
“I read every report you wrote.”
I looked up.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“You once corrected a twelve-million-dollar discrepancy in one of my companies without knowing whose books you were fixing.”
My heart skipped.
“You knew?”
“I knew your name before I asked you to marry me.”
I stared at him.
Suddenly our entire relationship felt different.
“Then why did you marry me?”
His answer came without hesitation.
“Because you were the first person who could look at my numbers without being impressed by my name.”
I looked away.
“That isn't enough.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“But it was the beginning.”
My fingers tightened around the documents.
“Who is doing this?”
Matteo's expression changed.
“That's what I've been trying to find out.”
A knock came at the door.
Carlo entered.
His face was grim.
“Boss.”
Matteo turned.
“What?”
“We found something in Mrs. De Luca's luggage.”
My stomach dropped.
Carlo placed a small black device on the desk.
“A tracker.”
I stared at it.
Matteo didn't move.
“Where?”
“In the lining of her suitcase.”
My suitcase.
The one I had packed that afternoon.
Someone had known I was leaving.
Someone had known where I was going.
And someone had made sure Matteo would follow me.
I slowly looked at my husband.
“This wasn't about protecting me from someone outside.”
Matteo's eyes hardened.
“No.”
He picked up the tracker.
“Someone wanted to know exactly where you would go after leaving me.”
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And suddenly our divorce wasn't just a marriage ending.
It was part of someone's plan.
