Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Rachel
"Heading to Europe on business. About two weeks."
No goodbye. Not even a phone call to explain. Just a security memo on my desk—detailing my authorized routes, curfew times, and the tracking device I had to carry at all times.
Still under protection. But it didn't make me feel safe.
It felt like a net closing tighter around me.
The anxiety crept in. I messaged him every day.
At first, asking if he'd landed safely. Then, if things were going smoothly.
Eventually, just hollow good mornings and good nights.
Every message disappeared into the void.
Hours would pass. Sometimes half a day. Then the screen would light up with a response.
I tried Luca. He was even harder to reach. He finally picked up earlier. The background noise was deafening—wind, or maybe heavy machinery.
Luca said Matteo was swamped. Before I could ask anything else, the line went dead. I slumped back in my chair and tossed the phone aside. But life goes on. I couldn't let this consume me—especially when Matteo wasn't the only one who'd vanished. Still no word from Leona either.
I slapped my cheeks, grabbed a stack of files, and headed to George's office. The elevator doors opened, and someone blocked my path—Samantha.
"Rachel." She said my name softly, her smile warm, almost genuine.
My shoulders tensed. Bracing for the barbs.
"Relax." Samantha smiled. "I won't give you any more trouble over Matteo—I'm engaged now."
I stared at her, doubting my own ears. Last month, she'd torn me apart at that dinner. And now she'd had some kind of revelation?
"What do you want?"
"I want to invite you to my engagement party." She pulled a gold-embossed invitation from her purse and held it out with both hands. "This Saturday."
I glanced at the fancy card but didn't reach for it. We had no relationship. And after everything she'd done, I wanted nothing to do with her.
"Sorry. I'm busy this weekend."
Samantha's face froze. But she recovered fast and grabbed my wrist.
"Rachel, I'm begging you." Her fingers dug into my arm, her eyes actually glistening. "This is the most important day of my life. I really need you to forgive me and be there. And I have a little surprise for you—just give me a chance to make things right, please?"
I yanked my arm free. Something felt off. Why was she so desperate for me to come? Begging someone she despised to attend her engagement party? But Samantha kept pleading, making it clear she wouldn't let me pass.
I didn't want a scene. "Fine." I shoved the invitation under my files. "I'll try to make it, but no promises."
Samantha's eyes lit up. "Perfect! I'll be waiting. You have to come!"
She stepped aside. I hurried back to my office and buried the invitation in the bottom drawer. Saturday, I'd stay home with Cassius. Nowhere else.
"Did you hear? Samantha's engagement party is Saturday!"
Great. The whole company was talking about it.
"Duh. Half the admin department got invitations. Oak Club! She booked the entire East Side building."
"Hundreds of people. The flowers alone were flown in from Holland this morning."
I pushed open the breakroom door. Amy stood by the counter with her mug. She grabbed me immediately. "Rachel, you got an invitation, right?"
I nodded, dropping a sugar cube in my coffee.
"Let's go together?"
"I don't want to go." I stirred. "I want to rest this weekend."
"Come on!" Amy clutched my arm. "Everyone with any rank is going. Besides, after everything Samantha's put us through, why not eat and drink on her dime? See how old money does it?"
"Who's the groom?" Vera, a new intern, asked curiously.
"That's the best part!" Amy lowered her voice. "Samantha won't say. The invitation just says Ashford. Not a word about the guy's name. But Anna heard the family's at the absolute top—peak of the New York pyramid. Samantha's really made it."
The gossip only deepened my unease.
"Rachel, come with me." Amy shook my arm. "I already booked the salon. We'll look amazing. Even if we ignore Samantha, the champagne will be worth it. Please? I don't want to sit in a corner alone."
Amy's pleading eyes got to me.
"Fine." I sighed. "But just an hour or two. Show our faces and leave."
"Deal!" Amy cheered and bounced back to work.
I messaged Luca asking when Matteo would return. He sent back meaningless emojis and disappeared again. With Matteo's connection to the Ashfords, maybe he'd be there? Maybe he'd come back early. If so, the party wouldn't be such a bad thing.
I half-heartedly started planning what to wear.
Saturday evening arrived fast. Matteo didn't come back.
Disappointment settled in. To stay under the radar, I chose a simple lake-blue cocktail dress that hit just below the knee.
I refused the stylist's expensive jewelry recommendations and wore only small pearl earrings and barely-there lipstick. Invisible. That was the goal.
Arriving at Oak Club, the scene took my breath away.
This wasn't an ordinary engagement party.
The street outside was completely cleared.
The parking lot was filled with exclusive luxury vehicles.
Red carpet stretched from the entrance to the corner, flanked by unsmiling security in black custom suits.
Every guest had to pass strict ID verification before stepping on the carpet.
Invitations were scanned once, then manually checked again at the main entrance by attendants with earpieces. The familiar setup made me uneasy.
Amy and I walked arm-in-arm down the carpet. "This rivals the Cannes red carpet," she whispered.
I shook my head. "Probably exceeds it."
Inside the grand ballroom, crystal chandeliers hung from a soaring ceiling, light reflecting off polished marble floors. I immediately spotted people I'd only seen on financial news programs. In the lounge area sat several state officials who regularly appeared on television.
A massive gold banner stretched across the front wall, ornate script announcing the union. The Ashford family name gleamed on the left, but the groom's surname was half-hidden behind an enormous arch made of thousands of pure white Ecuadorian roses.
I could barely make out the letter "V" at the beginning. My heart skipped. My hands and feet went cold.
Impossible. I rejected the insane thought. Matteo was in Europe, unreachable. He couldn't possibly be in New York.
"Rachel, what's wrong? You look terrible." Amy touched my arm, concerned.
"I'm fine." I forced a smile and grabbed champagne from a passing server. "Maybe the heat's too high. Feeling stuffy."
I lifted the glass, hiding my trembling fingers. A jazz band played soft melodies in the corner. Guests clustered in conversation. Amy was quickly pulled away by department heads. I stood alone behind a Roman column, trying to disappear.
After a while, a commotion rippled through the far entrance. The crowd parted, creating a wide path. All conversation dropped several octaves. Every eye turned that direction.
I gripped my glass and followed their gaze—my brain went blank. All sound drained away except the deafening pound of my heartbeat.
It was him—Matteo Vitale. The man who should've been thousands of miles away in Europe, drowning in business crisis.
Standing there beside the main stage. He wore an impeccable black tuxedo, no tie, collar slightly open.
His silver-gray hair perfectly groomed. Those deep, cold eyes swept lazily across the room, expression as remote and indifferent as ever.
And clinging to his left arm, smiling like she'd conquered the world, was tonight's absolute star—Samantha Ashford.
My fingers lost all strength. The glass tilted. Cold liquid spilled across my wrist. I wanted to run, but my legs felt like lead, rooted to the floor. My throat felt packed with broken glass, every breath slicing deeper.
Matteo was quickly surrounded by the powerful elite. He wore that familiar faint smile. Samantha occasionally chimed in. They exchanged glances as guests fawned.
No resistance. No reluctance. He just stood there, as if this engagement was the natural culmination of his love for Samantha.
My chest felt crushed. Every breath harder than the last. So "busy" really meant hiding another grand engagement party.
And I'd been staring at my phone every day, waiting for his cold replies.
More pathetic—before coming here, I'd wondered if he'd rush back early, if he'd find me in the crowd, if he'd reach for my hand like before.
My stomach clenched. I almost doubled over. My eyes burned, but I didn't dare blink, afraid tears would fall, afraid someone would see, afraid I'd become tonight's biggest joke.
I couldn't cry here. I'd been stupid enough already. I wouldn't give them more entertainment. My legs finally found some strength. I stiffly headed for the exit. I had to leave while no one noticed, while my makeup hadn't run too badly, while I could still walk out with my spine straight—
"Rachel, you made it."
Samantha appeared behind me. She grabbed my arm and half-dragged me to an isolated spot behind a carved screen.
"Like the surprise I prepared?" Once she confirmed we were alone, all pretense vanished. Vicious triumph blazed in her eyes. She released my arm and brushed her sleeve as if dusting off dirt, looking down at me with contempt.
I shook all over, nails digging into my palms. "What the hell do you want?"
"Nothing much." Samantha laughed scornfully. "I just thought since you love dreaming about climbing the social ladder, someone should wake you up."
She moved closer, her gaze cutting into my face. "You still don't get it, Rachel? The man standing there having an engagement party with me is Matteo Vitale himself. The business trip was all a lie!"
Samantha's smile grew more twisted.
"Surprised?" She leaned to my ear. "You really thought you belonged with him? You know who he is? He's the actual head of the Vitale family—the Don of the entire Northeast! His wife must match his status, control resources. That person is me!"
Mob boss. Thunder exploded in my head.
Him coming home covered in blood. That email. Every brutal fragment I'd deliberately avoided, desperately covered with the tenderness he'd given—it all fit together perfectly now. No gaps left for self-deception.
Samantha's shoulders shook with laughter. "And you? You're just a free toy he grabbed when he needed stress relief. A piece of trash not worth bringing into the light. Disposable garbage."
Her words couldn't hurt me anymore. My internal agony exceeded all humiliation and abuse. I couldn't even cry.
Everything was fake. All my surrender, all my longing—just a cheap script this lofty Don wrote for his spare time.
I clutched my purse and turned to leave.
"Leaving?" Samantha reacted fast, spreading her arms to block me.
Madness flashed in her eyes. She suddenly raised her chin and lifted her right hand high toward the main stage, waving exaggeratedly.
"Matteo's right over there. Don't you want to see him before you go?" She made to call out. "I'll get him over here. Let him see what a pathetic wreck you are. Let him tell you to your face what you really are!"
He couldn't come over. I closed my eyes, bit down hard on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Pain yanked back a shred of my shattered rationality. I locked eyes with Samantha's twisted face.
She seemed startled and froze for a second. I didn't hesitate—I shoved past her shoulder. Samantha stumbled back, nearly collapsing against the screen.
I didn't look back. I followed the signs straight to the side exit. Pushed open the heavy fire door. Outside, rain poured down. Freezing water and wind hit me like a wall. My dress was instantly soaked through.
The door closed behind me, sealing off the music, warmth, and that grand fraudulent union. I finally lost all the strength holding me up. My knees buckled. I slid down the wet, cold brick wall, arms wrapped around my shaking shoulders, sobbing in the black night rain until I couldn't breathe.
The rain above me suddenly stopped. I looked up. A large black umbrella blocked the dim streetlight.
"I told you from the start. He's no good."