Chapter 4 When Will He Figure Out the Truth

Dusk settled in.

Matteo walked aimlessly down the street as the cold wind whipped around him, tugging at his coat. He shivered involuntarily, then pulled out his phone after some hesitation.

The screen lit up, showing the address Abigail had sent him. He'd used a huge chunk of savings just to rent a place. Now he only had enough left for basic food and transportation. There was no way he could afford a hotel.

Matteo rubbed his thumb over the phone screen, his expression eventually hardening with resolve. It looked like he had no choice but to stay at Abigail's place that night.

He grabbed a cab to the gated upscale community. When he reached the front door of the villa, he tightened his grip on the key, feeling a little nervous.

He had just raised his hand to unlock the door when it swung open from the inside.

"You must be Mr. Fulton. Ms. Pearce said that if you came, you could just treat this place as your own." The maid spoke politely, stepping aside to make room for him. "The bedrooms are on the second floor. If you'd like something to eat, I can start on it now."

"No, no, that's okay. I already ate." Matteo quickly waved his hands. He genuinely didn't like being waited on.

"Don't worry about me. Go ahead and do your thing." He gave a polite smile as he spoke, his gaze drifting around the entryway despite himself.

The maid didn't say anything else and quietly walked away.

Matteo let out the breath he'd been holding and headed upstairs. After a long, exhausting day, all he wanted was a hot shower and a bed. He still had a ton of work to handle tomorrow.

The only problem was… He stared at the hallway full of doors on the second floor, feeling lost.

"Which one's my room?" he muttered. He thought about going back down to ask the maid, but she was nowhere in sight.

With no better option, he picked a door at random and opened it. Inside, Abigail had just taken off her blouse when she heard the door open.

"Who's there?" The words were barely out of her mouth when she turned around.

Matteo froze there, caught completely off guard as he stared straight at her. When their eyes met, his heartbeat spiked.

Moonlight poured in through the window, spilling over Abigail and wrapping her in a soft glow. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and the curves of her body were…

Matteo was a healthy, hot-blooded man. For a second, he just stood there, enchanted.

"Seen enough?"

Her familiar voice snapped him out of it. He jerked, spun around, and turned his back to her. Feeling flustered, he hastily explained, "S-Sorry. I didn't know you were in here."

Abigail seemed unfazed. She slipped into her nightgown with practiced ease, then let her gaze fall back on him. She said, "The room next door is yours. If you need anything, talk to Laura Moss, the housekeeper. She's off today, but she'll be back tomorrow."

Matteo nodded stiffly, still not daring to turn around. "R-Right. You should rest. I'll, uh, go to my room…"

He had just started to leave when her voice stopped him. "Wait. There's something I might as well tell you now."

He stopped and slowly turned back to face her.

By then, Abigail was already seated casually on the couch in her nightgown, one leg crossed over the other. She gestured for him to sit.

"What is it?" Matteo asked cautiously, thinking it might be about work.

Instead, she handed him a cup of tea she'd just poured. "Relax. I keep business and personal matters separate. I gave you my word, and I'm not going back on it. This is your home now."

"Once I become a permanent employee, I'll pay rent," he said firmly, as if he'd already thought it through from every angle.

"Oh? You're that confident?" Abigail arched a brow, her gaze drifting over him in a lazy, assessing way, as if she wanted to see right through him.

After marrying Matteo, she'd immediately had someone look into his background. That was when she discovered a very entertaining mix-up. But judging from the way he was acting, he still had no idea he'd married the wrong woman.

"You need confidence to do anything well. I'll give it everything I've got," he said.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Wait for me tomorrow after work. We'll go back to the Pearce residence together. My dad's been saying he wants to meet you."

"Okay." At that, Matteo hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask something else.

"I'll have someone prepare the gifts, and I had a suit custom-made for you. I'll have it sent up to your room now. My dad likes wine, so talk to him about that when you can. The rest is up to you," she continued.

Her words eased a lot of the tension twisting in his chest. The more prepared he was, the smoother this path would be.

Back in Matteo's room, just as Abigail had said, a tailored suit lay neatly on the bed. He ran a hand over the fabric. It was even nicer than the ones Natasha had given him.

One day, though, he would be able to afford things like this on his own.

…

The next morning, Matteo arrived at the office earlier—much earlier than necessary—and turned in the second version of his character model three days ahead of schedule. It was more detailed and refined than the first, and his coworkers praised his work.

He didn't take a break, though. Instead, he dove straight into another round of fine-tuning based on the latest notes from his supervisors.

All day long, aside from grabbing a quick bite to eat, he didn't stop once. By the time he finally looked up, the sky outside had already gone dark, and he realized he was the last one left in the office.

Something occurred to him. He checked the time and hurried to call Abigail, only to see a new text from her pop up on his screen.

Abigail: "I need another 30 minutes."

Matteo: "Got it. I'll wait for you."

He sighed in relief.

Half an hour later, they left the office together. On the way, Matteo stayed quiet, but he broke into a polite, sincere smile when he met Arthur.

He started, "Hello, Mr. Pearce. I—"

"You and Abigail are already married, and you're still calling me Mr. Pearce?" Arthur looked him up and down, clearly pleased with what he saw.

Matteo glanced at Abigail, then nodded. "Dad, it's a pleasure to meet you. I don't have much to show for myself yet, so the gifts we brought are all things Abigail prepared. Give me a little time—one day, I'll make you proud."

Arthur patted him on the shoulder, clearly delighted. "The fact that you feel that way is enough. Come on, sit down and talk with me."

Abigail sat on the couch beside them the whole time, watching as Arthur slowly asked question after question about Matteo's life and work. She couldn't help the faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lips when she saw how well the two of them were getting along.

After dinner, Arthur roped Matteo into a few more drinks and refused to let them leave. "It's late. Just stay here tonight. There's no need to rush home."

Matteo looked at Abigail, feeling hesitant.

"Let's stay," she said. "It's the weekend tomorrow. There's no work."

Hearing that, he nodded and carefully helped Arthur upstairs to rest.

"Matt, I'm leaving Abigail in your hands from now on. I won't let you off the hook if you ever hurt my daughter!"

Abigail stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched them. She raised her brows helplessly but didn't say a word.