Epilogue II
Charles
I still remember the first time I saw Rachel.
To be precise, it was in Matteo's office. A stack of assistant candidate résumés sat on the desk. He pulled one out, looked at it for two seconds, then did something I'd never seen him do—he set that paper aside separately, instead of tossing it onto the "pending" pile.
When he stepped out to take a call, I circled around for a look. The girl in the photo wasn't stunning, but those green eyes were clean.
So I pulled some strings. I said I needed an assistant. Matteo still cared enough about me back then to nod his approval. That's how Rachel ended up by my side.
At first, my interest in her was... let's call it what it was.
Pure lust. She looked good in blouses. The line of her neck when she bent to hand me files looked good.
The way she pressed her lips together and refused to back down when I reprimanded her looked even better.
I wanted to get her into bed. That thought was blunt to the point of crude, and I never denied it.
But gradually, things shifted.
She wasn't the kind of girl I'd assumed.
When she blocked drinks for me at business dinners, it wasn't playing hard to get—she genuinely thought it was her duty.
When I called her out at midnight to clean up my messes, she'd complain, but her hands never slowed down.
She remembered what coffee I liked, which nuts I was allergic to, and that I needed to review my schedule fifteen minutes before every meeting—no one taught her these things.
She just made every task handed to her flawless.
I started thinking maybe it didn't have to be just a night. Maybe I could keep her around.
So that night I did something stupid. I got myself drunk and called her over. And what happened? Matteo showed up and pulled me off her like I was a dog.
When Matteo carried Rachel away, the look in her eyes held no anger. Only disgust.
Later, she got transferred. I watched her come and go from the forty-eighth floor every day. Watched him break his own rules for her, lose his temper for her, do things I'd never seen him do.
That's when I finally confirmed two things. First, Matteo had real feelings for her. Second, I was completely out of the running. I couldn't compete with him. Never could.
So the engagement party was my doing. I found Samantha and told her Matteo would soon need a respectable alliance marriage to consolidate the family's power, and she—Miss Ashford—was the perfect candidate. That stupid woman only had eyes for Matteo. Never occurred to her that she was just a pawn.
The result exceeded my expectations. Rachel left crying in the pouring rain, and Matteo didn't even know what happened.
I hid her in Maine. Calculated move. That little town was remote and quiet. No direct flights. Even packages took two extra days. She opened a diner there, lived a normal life, like a fish in a tank.
I wired money into her account every month. She never touched a cent. I knew. She wouldn't spend my money, wouldn't see my people, wouldn't even let me in when I went to see her myself. That's when I realized I'd never had her. Not for a single day.
Those four years, I'd often drive to Camden and park across from the Sea Breeze Diner, watching her wipe tables, serve plates, smile at customers. That smile was different from her New York days—lighter, fainter, like expired water. But at least she was alone. At least she didn't belong to anyone.
But Matteo still found her. I don't know how. Maybe that wire transfer. Maybe dumb luck. Either way, he came. Just like when he pulled me off that couch years ago, he flipped my world over again—effortlessly.
Not just Rachel. He took the last bit of family power that belonged to me. He killed Davide, crushed Farrell, severed every dark connection I'd spent years building. By the time I realized what was happening, I had nothing left.
So I decided to destroy it all.
The day Rachel came, I looked at her and went soft again. I thought maybe that's enough. Have a drink, exchange a few civilized words, then get the hell out of Sicily, out of her life. But she told me—"I'm certain I love Matteo. I'll never leave him again, not in this lifetime."
At that moment, I heard something snap in my head.
Why? Why does he get everything? Why does everyone revolve around him without him lifting a finger? Why did I scheme for four years and she wouldn't even have one meal with me, but all he has to do is stand there and she gives him everything willingly?
I wouldn't accept it. I took Sofia. I stopped caring about anything. I wanted those two to live in hell forever.
I waited in that broken-down warehouse for two hours. I knew Matteo would come. When I held the knife to Sofia's throat, I didn't really want to kill her. I'd always wanted to kill Matteo. But my hand was shaking. When Matteo lunged at me, I couldn't even grip the knife steady.
The gun went off. The last thing I saw was Rachel's face. She knelt on the ground, tears streaming, screaming, "Charles, please, don't kill him."
She begged me not to kill him. You see, even in that final moment, her eyes only held him.
It's not fair.