Chapter 7 - THE LAST PERSON MATTEO TRUSTED
Elena De Luca had been dead for six years.
But someone was using her credentials.
We returned to the estate immediately.
Matteo locked himself in the study.
I followed.
“Don't shut me out.”
He stopped.
Then opened the door wider.
“I'm not.”
We examined the access records.
The account had been activated from a server belonging to one of Matteo's legitimate companies.
I recognized the encryption.
“It's Varga.”
Matteo shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Why not?”
“Because Varga isn't the one who understands my mother's security protocols.”
“Then who?”
Matteo stared at the screen.
His face changed.
“Stefano.”
“Who is Stefano?”
“My younger cousin.”
He sat down.
“After my father died, Stefano handled family archives.”
“And?”
“He disappeared two years ago.”
I frowned.
“Did you ever find him?”
“No.”
“Then he isn't missing.”
Matteo looked at me.
“He's been hiding.”
We traced the connection.
It led to a private server beneath one of De Luca's old warehouses.
We went there that night.
This time, I wasn't told to stay behind.
I walked beside Matteo.
Inside the server room, we found Stefano.
Older than I expected.
Tired.
Terrified.
And holding a gun.
“Don't come closer.”
Matteo stopped.
“Stefano.”
“You should have left this alone.”
“Who are you working for?”
Stefano laughed bitterly.
“Everyone.”
He looked at me.
“Your father paid Varga.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
“To move money through Matteo's companies.”
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“Why frame me?”
“Because if you went to prison, your organization would collapse.”
Stefano swallowed.
“And they wanted your wife to become the face of the legitimate businesses.”
I stared.
“Me?”
Stefano nodded.
“You were clean.”
Matteo understood immediately.
“They planned to use Lucia as the public owner.”
“And then blame her for the missing money.”
I felt sick.
My own husband had been trying to protect me from a conspiracy that intended to turn me into its scapegoat.
Stefano lowered the gun.
“There was one problem.”
“What?”
“Your mother left everything in your name.”
I stared at him.
“So they couldn't take it.”
“No.”
He handed me a file.
“That's why they needed you divorced.”
The room went silent.
If Matteo and I remained married, his legal protections could shield the trust.
If we divorced, I could be isolated.
Framed.
Destroyed.
The divorce papers had never been about separating us.
They had been part of the plan.
I looked at Matteo.
He looked devastated.
“I never knew.”
“I know.”
My voice softened.
He stepped closer.
“I thought losing you was my worst fear.”
I stared at him.
“What is it now?”
“Becoming the reason you can't trust love again.”
I felt tears gather.
Then I took his hand.
“Then don't ask me to trust you.”
His eyes lifted.
“Show me.”
He squeezed my fingers.
“I will.”
Behind us, Stefano suddenly shouted.
“Down!”
A gunshot cracked through the room.
Matteo pulled me to the floor.
Glass exploded above us.
Someone was shooting from the warehouse roof.
Stefano pushed the server cabinet over.
Carlo's men returned fire.
Then the shooting stopped.
On the floor beside me was a single envelope.
It had been pushed under the door.
I opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
Matteo and me at our wedding.
Across our faces someone had written:
ONE OF YOU WILL NOT SEE THE NEXT ANNIVERSARY.
I looked at my husband.
This time, neither of us mistook the threat.
May you like
It wasn't about money anymore.
It was personal.
