Chapter 4

Preparations were underway for Chiara and Stefano’s welcome dinner.

I spent most of the day in the study finalizing the menu, arranging the seating plan, and confirming the guest list, with documents spread across the desk in front of me.

Matteo came in carrying a small plate.

On it were two slices of toast, lightly charred at the edges and covered with a thick layer of Sicilian orange marmalade.

There had been a time when that was the only thing I could eat whenever the pressure became too much.

Back when we had first moved to Milan, we worked from morning until well past midnight almost every day. Whenever I lost my appetite, Matteo would make this for me, bring it to my desk, and feed me.

Once we had established ourselves in Milan, he never made it again.

He set the plate down in front of me.

“You haven’t had dinner.”

I looked at the toast but made no move to touch it.

“Vera.” Matteo sat across from me, his voice low and gentle. “I haven’t forgotten everything you’ve carried for me over the years. You’re the person I trust most. The one I can’t imagine my life without.”

I remained silent.

“But I can’t simply abandon Chiara and Stefano. You’ve always understood me better than anyone, so I’m asking you to understand me this time too. All right?”

“All right,” I said.

The day before the dinner, I carried a stack of documents into his study.

“The finalized menu, the wine list, the seating plan, and the trust documents for Stefano. The lawyers are waiting for everything to be filed.”

He took the stack from me, flipped through a few pages without much interest, and began signing.

When he reached the final document, he paused.

It had been placed at the bottom of the stack, leaving only the signature line visible.

“What’s this?”

“An invoice for the dinner,” I said.

Matteo glanced at me, but my expression gave nothing away.

A moment later, he lowered his eyes, picked up his pen, and signed.

Once he had finished with the documents, he rose and pulled me into his arms.

“When all of this is over, we’ll go to Norway.”

“What about Chiara and Stefano?”

His arms went stiff around me.

“And the family?” I added.

Matteo slowly let go, took a step back, and sat down again.

“Then we’ll wait another year. Once everything with Stefano is settled and things here are stable, I promise I’ll take you.”

I lowered my eyes, feeling no anticipation at all.

“All right.”

On the evening of the dinner, every senior member of the family arrived with his wife.

Chiara wore a dark blue gown and stood beside Matteo as they received the guests. Stefano wore a little suit and bow tie, cradled in Matteo’s mother’s arms.

I stood at the other end of the hall with a glass of champagne in my hand, though I never took a sip.

Not far away, two of the men’s wives were speaking quietly, convinced I couldn’t hear them.

“I still can’t believe it. Matteo used to treat Vera so well. Everyone said he was completely devoted to her.”

“You can never trust a man. He hid another woman for six years, and now his son is already this old.”

“I don’t know how Vera puts up with it. If it were me, I would’ve made a scene.”

“She’s the Donna. She has to think about the family. Not everyone gets to behave however they want.”

They laughed softly.

I walked toward them, and the moment they noticed me, their smiles vanished and the color drained from their faces.

“Donna!”

I passed them without a word and headed for the side door.

Across the room, Matteo spotted me leaving. He put down his glass and started toward me, but Sal stepped in front of him.

“A Donna’s dignity doesn’t allow her to remain at the same gathering as her husband’s mistress,” Sal said quietly. “Let her leave for now. You can go to her when the dinner is over.”

Matteo stopped where he was.

As he watched me disappear through the side door, his hand slowly clenched into a fist.

I left the villa and got into the car waiting to take me to the airport.

The warm golden lights of the house grew smaller behind me until they disappeared from view.

I had taken very little with me. Everything I wanted fit inside a single backpack.

Just before boarding, my phone vibrated with a message from Matteo.

[Where did you go?]

I didn’t answer.

A second message arrived a moment later.

[You didn’t eat tonight. I’ll come find you when the dinner is over.]

I stared at the screen for a long time before opening the reset settings and confirming the command that erased everything on the phone.

Then I picked up my backpack and walked toward the gate.

The dinner lasted until late that night.

After the guests had gone, Matteo went into the kitchen, made another plate of toast with orange marmalade, and carried it upstairs.

The light in the study was still on, but I was no longer there.

The moment he saw the divorce papers and the Donna’s ring lying in the middle of the desk, it was as though all the blood in his body turned to ice.

The plate slipped from his hand, scattering toast and orange marmalade across the floor.

His hands had never shaken like that before.

As his trembling fingers touched the papers, the memory of the previous day came rushing back: I had stood beside him in silence while he signed.

I had told him it was for the dinner.

And when he spoke of Norway, I had said all right.

Matteo abruptly turned to the final page.

The document stated that the marriage between Vera Moretti and Matteo Vitale was dissolved from the date of signing.

At the bottom was his signature. He had signed it himself, trusting me.