Chapter 32 #2
“Then don’t make yourself an even bigger liar in my eyes.
Tell me, why do you have your brother’s phone?
Is it some twisted kind of trophy to you?
Something to remember how you and Rafe managed to fool a naive, friendless girl into your trap?
How you both made a mockery of me?” Matteo’s jaw ticks once again, followed by a clench of his hands. “Why won’t you answer me?”
“I can’t. Not when you’re like this, sweetheart. Not when you can’t handle what I have to say.”
Fear begins to seep into me, running wild in all directions at that loving look in his eyes.
Oh, God. Oh, God. No. No. No. No. No.
“Matteo,” I say, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “This isn’t your brother’s phone, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. It’s mine.” My world starts spinning as my head begins to frantically shake.
“No… no, that’s not possible.”
Like a cruel joke, memories surge forward, hard and fast, uncovering the truth of Matteo’s words.
His deep, raspy voice. The bulging veins in his hands and arms. The tender smiles.
The soft words. The loving glint in his dark eyes.
The reason my body reacted so viscerally to him, even when my mind told it to stop.
“It was you,” I breathe, shaking. “It was you all this time.”
“Anna—”
“Stop.” I throw out my hand, and thankfully, he halts in his tracks.
“You… you catfished me?” My chest heaves.
“How long?” He says nothing. My eyes squeeze shut, fury and humiliation crashing over me.
“How long were you pretending to be your brother?” Still nothing. I hurl both phones at him. “How long?!”
Matteo’s voice is quiet when he replies, “You know how long, vita mia. You always have.”
My knees nearly give out. Hot tears blur my vision as the truth settles in. Every message, every confession, every moment I thought I was falling for Rafe, was Matteo all along. The man I trusted. The man I fell in love with is the very villain standing in front of me—my husband.
Unwilling to stay in the same room as him for a second longer, I run to the bathroom and lock myself inside before he’s able to follow me in. My hands grip the sink as painful sobs tear through me, my reflection blurring in the mirror.
“Anna, open the door. We need to talk this out.”
“I’m done talking!” I cry out.
“Please, sweetheart.”
A pang hits my chest as he repeats the endearment. How I used to love hearing him call me that, along with so many other beautiful words. Why does this betrayal hit harder than when I thought it had been Raffaele?
You know how long, vita mia. You always have.
Matteo’s right. Somehow, deep in my subconscious, I must have known that the man I had given my heart to wasn’t the same one I had befriended as a child. Still, never in my wildest suspicions did I ever think it would be Matteo.
Everything in my life feels so out of control, as if everyone else has the power to dictate how it should go instead of me. Almost as if I’m a side character in my own life.
I need to get my power back. I need to take back control. The Donatos have made a fool of me too many times to count. And I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of all of it.
“Please… just let me explain,” he says.
There is a little thump on the door, telling me he’s leaning against it. But I’m tired of words. They’re hollow and painful. I need actions. Actions that I alone make.
The idea barely takes form, and I’m already moving, yanking open drawers, one after another.
“Anna,” Matteo calls out, sounding nervous all of a sudden.
I smile when I find a pair of scissors.
“Open the door, Anna,” Matteo demands, his voice more authoritarian now.
The first cut of my hair is jagged, but I feel lighter instantly.
As if I’m carving away every mistake that led me to fall in love with a monster, one strand at a time.
I grab another batch of hair and keep cutting.
Long blonde strands fall on the floor as my manic smile stretches wider on my face.
On the other side of the door, Matteo’s voice sharpens, panic seeping through it.
“Anna, open the door!” He knocks repeatedly, but I don’t respond.
I just keep cutting and cutting until I’m standing over a pool of golden locks.
“Anna, step away from the door!” he shouts, mere seconds before it bursts open.
Matteo freezes in the doorway, his breathing erratic.
I stand still, chest heaving, my hair shorn unevenly around my face.
For a second, I feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.
However, Matteo isn’t looking at my hair.
He’s not even looking at my face. His eyes are locked on the scissors still clutched in my hand.
“Anna… sweetheart…put the scissors down.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “What? Do you think I’m going to use them on you?”
Matteo shakes his head, his hands balling into fists, and that’s when I see it—the fear. Not for himself, but for me. The realization hits like a blow.
He thinks I’m going to hurt myself. That I’m going to use these scissors to…
My fingers loosen immediately, the scissors clattering to the floor. He moves instantly, crossing the room and pulling me into his embrace, putting me as far from the scissors as he possibly can.
“Get those fucking things out of here!” he snaps, sounding more crazed than I was not a minute ago.
Only then do I realize we’re not alone. His mother stands near the door, looking like a shell of a woman, while Niccolò is already moving, gathering up the scissors, razors—anything sharp enough to cut—and throwing them into a small bin.
Right behind their mother is Raffaele. He just stands there, staring at me, locked in an embrace with his brother. I can almost taste the bitter venom in his gaze.
“Got it. There’s nothing left,” Niccolò says, holding the bin in his hands.
“Out!” Matteo orders, not sparing anyone a second look.
Niccolò leaves, dragging Raffaele with him. Their mother lingers, but Matteo doesn’t tell her to go.
Instead, he holds my clasped hands in his, pressing his forehead to mine. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
I can’t respond. I’m too stunned. Too tangled in everything that just happened.
Behind us, his mother’s voice is quiet, remorseful. “I’m sorry, Matteo. I won’t help her again. I promise.”
I flinch at the emptiness of her words. Whatever hope I still had of ever leaving this house dies with them.
Tears threaten to come again, and before he has a chance to see them, I pull away from Matteo’s grip and walk back into the bedroom, only to find night has fallen, the room now swallowed in shadows—just like my husband’s soul.
I walk over to my side of the bed and lie down, only to hear Matteo do the same behind me. In the dark, we lie in silence, taking stock of everything that just happened.
His voice is the first to break it. “Why did you cut your hair?”
“I wanted to hurt you,” I lie while staring into the darkness.
“Well, you succeeded,” he says softly. “But not by cutting your hair.” My throat tightens at the insinuation.
“I wasn’t going to hurt myself.”
“I didn’t know that,” he admits, pain threading his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Ever what?” I ask, turning onto my side to look at him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid. Which is saying something, if you knew everything I had to endure in this house. But none of it scared me as much as seeing you…” This time, when he doesn’t finish, I don’t force him to.
Silence settles in again, and for a moment I almost think he won’t say anything else. That he’ll let this day end like this, without addressing the real elephant in the room. To my dismay, however, Matteo refuses to hide anymore.
“You could shave your head. Dye it bright pink. Change your whole appearance until you look like someone else entirely. I wouldn’t care,” he exhales. “It wouldn’t change anything. I fell in love with you long before I ever saw your face.”
“That’s a lie. You’ve seen my face.”
“No. I saw the face of my enemy’s daughter. I saw my hate. I didn’t see you. I didn’t see you, Anna. But now…” His voice softens as his hand finds my cheek. “You’re all I see.”
I swallow and turn my back to him, hating how his words still have a way of getting through to my heart.
“I think I preferred you a liar.”
At least then I was safe. Now, I’m anything but.