Chapter 3

My voice was steady and firm, just loud enough for Matteo to hear as he approached. His steps didn't falter in the slightest.

"Elena, you've misunderstood. I only see Sofia as a sister. You shouldn't spout nonsense like this, as it could harm her reputation. And you also shouldn't believe every rumor you hear."

Sofia's eyes dimmed instantly, her reddened rim highlighting the resentment she felt inside.

I should have felt a rush of satisfaction, yet I couldn't summon any joy.

"Go ahead to the auction first. I'll take Sofia home and join you later," Matteo added.

Sofia leaned into Matteo, and he didn't pull away. Instead, he caught her as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

I watched silently as Matteo scooped Sofia up in his arms and settled her into the car seat. Then, he got ready to leave.

Just as the car was about to pull away, Matteo said, "Since you think the car is dirty, take a cab there yourself. I'll go with you to pick out a new car another time."

I couldn't help but recall that when I was 18, Matteo had looked at me with the same hollow, unresponsive gaze, never once saying no.

My love breathed life into him and, more than that, endowed him with the formidable bearing of a mafia man.

He always indulged my whims. Even after rising in the family ranks, he still placed my needs above all else.

Yet now, he had placed Sofia's needs before mine.

I watched calmly as the car carrying them slowly drove away from me, leaving me with nothing more to say. Refusing to let them disrupt my plans, I attended the auction as scheduled.

To be honest, I never cared much for auctions. If I wanted something, it would be brought to me without effort.

But Matteo loved them. He loved the thrill of bidding extravagantly, the admiration and praise others showered on him. Thus, choosing the auction for our anniversary was all an attempt to please him.

I never expected him to feel indebted or grateful, for I just wanted to give him a better life.

But by the time the auction ended, Matteo still hadn't shown up.

Distracted and unsettled, I wrapped up the event and arranged for the items to be sent directly back to the villa.

When I saw the family car parked outside the villa, my heart sank.

I hurried inside and found Matteo sitting on the sofa, watching the financial news as he often did.

On the seat beside him lay the tailored suit jacket he had wrapped around Sofia's waist earlier to hide the stain. His exposed forearms were still dotted with tiny droplets of water.

My intuition told me something had slipped beyond my control.

"Why is the car at home?" I demanded.

Before Matteo could answer, a woman's startled cry came from the master bedroom. My mind instantly went blank for a second, then I saw Matteo rise and stride swiftly toward the door, his knocking unmistakably urgent and panicked.

"Sofia, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Mrs. Romano's dress didn't quite fit me. While changing, I bumped into the wedding photo on the headboard, and it accidentally fell and broke."

I shoved Matteo aside hysterically and stormed into the room. Once inside, I slapped Sofia hard across the face while she was still partially undressed. Watching her clutch her cheek and collapse to the floor in stunned disbelief only fueled the fire inside me.

But when I noticed her wearing the 1.8-billion-dollar diamond necklace Papa gave me for my sweet 16, the rage in me blazed beyond control.

Clothes were strewn all over the walk-in closet, and the dirty, unchanged water in the bathtub sat there like a murky mirror, jeering back at me.

The air was thick with the scent of men's cologne and a faint, foul odor. Wave after wave of nausea washed over me, threatening to make me sick.

Matteo rushed over and wrapped Sofia in a bedsheet before demanding sharply, "Elena Russo, have you lost your mind? Sofia just came to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. Who are you putting on this crazy act for?"

He thought I was being unreasonable. But he had forgotten that this was our marital bedroom, not a place anyone could enter and trample over as they pleased.

Scattered across the floor of the walk-in closet were the lingerie I had carefully chosen to please Matteo. They represented intimate moments between husband and wife, yet now they had been carelessly tossed aside and soiled by Sofia.

"Apologize to Sofia right now," Matteo commanded, his voice cold and low as he held Sofia in his arms.

I forced down the metallic taste rising in my throat and looked at him with disappointment. "No way."