Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN THEY WERE WATCHING
I didn't sleep.
Neither did Matteo.
At four in the morning, I found him sitting alone in the kitchen with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He looked less like a mafia boss than a man who had finally run out of places to hide.
“You should sleep,” I said.
“So should you.”
“I don't trust you enough yet.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
That answer surprised me.
I poured coffee.
He didn't stop me.
That was the first small change.
He didn't order.
He didn't control.
He simply watched.
“You said someone inside your organization is involved.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I have suspicions.”
“Names.”
He hesitated.
Then slid a photograph across the table.
“Adrian Varga.”
I knew the name.
Chief financial officer for De Luca Holdings.
A man who had always treated me politely.
Too politely.
“He handles your finances.”
“Some of them.”
“And you think he's selling information?”
“I think he is connected to the financial transfers.”
I studied the photograph.
“Then don't confront him.”
Matteo frowned.
“Why?”
“Because if he's guilty, he'll know you suspect him.”
He leaned back.
“What would you do?”
I looked at the coffee.
“Let him believe he's safe.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
For the first time in three years, Matteo smiled.
Not the intimidating half-smile he used in meetings.
A real one.
“You're dangerous.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I'm tired.”
His smile disappeared.
“I've missed this.”
“What?”
“You.”
My throat tightened.
“You never had me.”
“I know.”
That hurt.
Because he was right.
Later that morning, I went into his study.
Not because he invited me.
Because he left the door open.
There were hundreds of files.
Financial statements.
Contracts.
Security reports.
And then I found a folder marked with my mother's name.
ELENA MARINO — PERSONAL
My breath stopped.
My mother.
Dead for fifteen years.
I opened it.
Inside was a copy of an old letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Matteo,
If anything happens to me, don't let Rockford take the account.
I read the sentence twice.
Then a third time.
“What is this?”
Matteo appeared behind me.
His face changed when he saw the letter.
“Where did you find that?”
“Your files.”
He walked toward me.
“I found it six years ago.”
“Six years?”
“Yes.”
“What account?”
He took a breath.
“Your mother discovered that someone was stealing from a family trust.”
I stared at him.
“My mother knew?”
“She suspected your father.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My father?”
Matteo nodded.
“She was gathering evidence.”
I read the letter again.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I couldn't prove it.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It was the only one I had.”
I looked at him.
“You've spent our entire marriage deciding what truths I'm allowed to know.”
“I know.”
“And now you're asking me to trust you.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He came closer.
“Don't.”
I blinked.
“Don't?”
“Don't trust me because I'm your husband.”
His voice was quiet.
“Trust what I do.”
For the first time, I believed he meant it.
Then the study door opened.
Carlo stood there.
“Boss.”
Matteo turned.
“What?”
“Varga just left the estate.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
Carlo hesitated.
“And he took one of the old accounting ledgers.”
Matteo's face became cold.
I closed my mother's folder.
“Then we follow him.”
Matteo looked at me.
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You just told me to trust what you do.”
“I am not taking you into danger.”
I stepped closer.
“Then stop treating me like something fragile.”
His jaw tightened.
“Lucia—”
“That ledger may contain the evidence my mother died trying to protect.”
Silence.
Finally Matteo nodded.
“Fine.”
He looked at Carlo.
“Prepare the car.”
Then he looked back at me.
“But this time, you sit beside me.”
Not behind him.
Not protected from him.
May you like
Beside him.
And neither of us knew that by sunset, we'd discover the person who betrayed us had been closer than either of us imagined.
