07
In the next few days, Mateo's temper is terrifying. He smashes everything in the house from the TV to tables and valuable ornaments.
It's said that a shareholder from Daniels Company has suddenly acquired a large number of shares from other shareholders and the public, almost equaling Mateo's holdings.
His position as CEO is now precarious. This is something Mateo absolutely cannot tolerate.
When his father, Mr. Daniels, was in power, the group's shareholding was highly dispersed, with 70% of the shares circulating on the market. This system was considered ingenious during the era of the Daniels founder.
However, with the arrival of the financial capital era, money has become the least scarce resource, and the old system has become outdated.
Since taking over, Mateo has been gradually changing the company's system, eliminating dissenters. But now, a formidable opponent who could potentially take over Daniels Group has suddenly appeared.
Mateo is so busy that he hardly sees his lover, Luna now. Even under these circumstances, he has to take time to bring me to Las Vegas.
We are not going for fun—a business partner's son is getting married, and Mateo must attend. Since it is a wedding, Mateo can't act wildly like at our anniversary party, so he only brings me.
His lover is very unhappy about this. On the private jet, Mateo pulls at his tie while calling her, telling her to use his black card as she pleases.
I sit across from him, wrapped in a blanket, silently watching the clouds outside the window.
As soon as we land, Mateo takes me to a professional styling studio to get ready. Then, I link my arm with Mateo's and enter the venue to congratulate the newlyweds.
Lincoln is also here. He holds a wine glass and, upon seeing us, walks over and greets Mateo with a smile.
"Brother."
"You still have the nerve to call me brother?!" Mateo smiles through gritted teeth. "You sold your shares to my rival, almost causing a change in ownership!"
"Brother, that's too harsh. I'm not taking over the family business; I just want to be a quiet architect. What's wrong with exchanging shares for some pocket money, especially when someone wants to buy them?"
"Nice, very well. We'll see about that." Mateo turns and walks away.
I stand there, looking at Lincoln, then at Mateo's receding back. I lift my dress and trot in my high heels to catch up.
Mateo, enraged, downs three glasses of whiskey in the booth before his phone rings again. It's Luna, but this time Mateo has lost patience to placate her.
"Either stay quiet or go away!" He hangs up after saying this.
I swallow hard. Luna is Mateo's favorite woman, and he's treating her like this. Staying by his side would be asking for trouble.
"Um, I'm a bit hungry, I'm going to get some food from the buffet. Do you want anything?" I ask softly.
Mateo waves his hand irritably, then rubs his temples.
I carefully stand up and quickly walk away, afraid he might call me back.
The banquet is a mix of different people. There are businessmen discussing deals, wealthy ladies comparing their jewelry, and several young women and men, looking for partners.
I hide in a corner, seriously eating seafood with refreshing Prosecco, enjoying a brief moment of happiness.
Then a few wealthy ladies sit behind me. Their conversation is wide-ranging, spanning from fashion to Daniels family scandals.
"The Daniels brothers seem friendly on the surface, but they deeply resent each other.
Ever since Mateo's dad brought that woman and her child home, the family has been in turmoil.
.. That woman was a famous opera singer, and she died a few years after having the child. It's karma for being a mistress."
"Mateo isn't a good man either, just like his dad. Recently, he even brought his mistress home overnight... And his wife says nothing about it. How pitiful."
"Lincoln is handsome and has a career, but his background is too lowly. With the label of 'illegitimate child,' how could any decent family's daughter look at him?"
I instinctively stand up to stop this gossip but then realize they are speaking the truth.
So I sit back down and continue eating lobster. With each bite of shrimp, I take a sip of wine. My glass quickly empties, and I turn to ask the waiter for another.
Before I can speak, a new glass appears on the table.
Lincoln sits in the empty seat next to me and says, "Good evening."
I look around.
"Are you looking for my brother? He's already gone," Lincoln says. "You haven't thanked me for the drink yet."
"Where did he go?" I ask.
"There." He nods slightly toward the elevator, where I see Mateo and a young beauty walking in hand in hand.
"They're going to get a room." Lincoln pauses, then lies, "Before leaving, my brother told me to take care of you."
"I'm fine on my own."
"Are you sure? Sneaking around here, eavesdropping on people gossiping about you?" He pulls me up by my arm.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask.
"Somewhere fun," he replies.
He takes me to a dimly lit theater. There's no one inside, just the two of us. I feel uneasy and want to leave, but Lincoln points to the stage. "Look."
The stage lights suddenly come on.
"What's this?" I ask, turning to him, seeing actors in classical costumes walking out from the side.
"A rehearsal for 'Turandot.'"
When a soprano in a white robe and laurel crown begins to sing "In questa reggia,"("In this palace")， I am completely absorbed by the performance.
It's a simple story. Princess Turandot wants a hunsband who can answer her three riddles.
A prince disguised in ordinary person correctly answers them, but the princess is unwilling to marry him.
Then the prince gives Turandot a riddle in return to guess his true identity.
In the end, the princess still doesn't know his identity, but the prince's kiss melts her icy heart.
As the red curtain slowly falls, I remain entranced, the echo of the aria lingering in my ears.
"You seem to like this opera," Lincoln says, turning to look at me.
"I—" I take out my phone, open the photo gallery, and show him a picture. "I once designed costumes for 'Turandot.'"
It was an assignment from my teacher.
When I started designing the costumes, I read the script and found many photos and materials online, but this is my first time hearing a live performance of 'Turandot.'
"I don't know if you know a soprano named Vittoria. I designed the costumes based on her face."
Lincoln looks at my phone screen and is silent for a couple of seconds. "The face in your sketch looks very much like her."
"Really?"
I smile, meeting his eyes in the dim theater.
Suddenly, I realize I've been talking too much and quietly say, "We should go."
Lincoln follows me, picking up his suit jacket and draping it over his arm. He then asks, "Your design sketches are beautiful. Can you send them to me?"
I hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Of course."
I take out my phone and start sending the images when Mateo calls.
"The banquet is over. Where did you go?" Mateo's tone is not good.
"I... I went outside for some air. I'll be right back."
I hang up and take a deep breath.
"My brother is done with his business?" Lincoln looks at my phone screen, chuckling. "I thought he was the kind of guy who finishes in three minutes. Seems he's a bit better than I imagined."
"Let's go," I say, avoiding Lincoln's gaze, not wanting to continue this topic.
But Lincoln continues, "The day his mom died, the old man was with my mom. Then he punched me. And I fought back. he's so annoying, no?"
The logic here is flawed. From Mateo's perspective, his mother was his father's legal wife, so his anger towards his father's mistress and her son is quite reasonable.
But Mateo is such a jerk. His father had a mistress, and he also has one or several. Knowing I'm around, he still takes another woman to a hotel room.
Tonight, I was supposed to endure many rumors and disdain in the banquet hall. It was Lincoln who took me away, giving me a pleasant time.
So, I don't want to blame either Lincoln or Mateo. I just change the subject, "Don't you want my design sketches? I'll send them to you now."
I open the chat with Lincoln and click send, then suddenly notice the last message he sent me the day I came home from the hospital.
Many conversations flash through my mind, connecting the dots.
I slowly raise my head, "When you said 'this isn't over' that day, were you planning to sell the stocks?"
"Uh huh," Lincoln nods with a smile. "He hit you, so he has to face the consequences, right?"
As he speaks, his Adam's apple moves. Looking up at it, I inexplicably think of a swaying cocktail.
Just as I'm wondering where this association came from, my cheeks are suddenly cupped by two large hands.
Warm lips press against mine, teeth gently biting my lip, then a tongue slips into my mouth.
I finally react, struggling to push Lincoln away, only to fall back into the red velvet chair behind me.
Lincoln also sits down, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap, continuing to kiss me passionately. He slips his hand into my gown, whispering my name softly as he kisses my neck and jaw repeatedly.
I push against his chest, jumping up, gasping for breath, "How dare you?!"
Lincoln looks into my eyes in the dim light. "Or you can slap me."
"I—" I can't bring myself to do something so crude.
"Ali, I admit, before today, my main reason for approaching you was to piss off my brother." He pauses. "But now I've changed my mind."
He stares at my lips and continues, "Your lips are so soft. I really like them."
As I run back to the hotel without looking back, Lincoln's words keep echoing in my mind.
I use the key card to open the door to the presidential suite. Mateo is asleep on the bed, and the woman he brought in is already gone.
I lie on the couch in the living room, unable to sleep.
Staring at the ceiling, I suddenly crave a drink. There's a liquor cabinet in the room, so I take out a mini bottle of tequila and try to pull out the cork. It's too tight, and I can't open it. I turn to look for a corkscrew but accidentally kick the trash can by my feet.
Any sound in the night seems especially loud. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I hold my breath and listen to see if Mateo has woken up.
He's still sleeping soundly, but in the few seconds I wait, my desire for the tequila gradually fades.
I finally fall asleep in the early hours, only to be awakened by the ringing of a phone.
Mateo's phone rings twice, but he doesn't answer it. I'm considering whether to go over and turn it off when my phone rings.
It's the butler from the old mansion.
"Mrs. Ali, please come back with Mr. Mateo quickly. Sir is critically ill..."
Shocked, I jump up from the bed and run to the bedroom to shake Mateo awake.
Mateo immediately takes me back to the U.K. on a private jet. Lincoln is also present.
They don't speak during the entire flight, creating an eerily quiet atmosphere.
When we arrive at the hospital, reporters are already there, waiting with cameras and asking about the inheritance issues between the two brothers.
Mateo, looking every bit the heir, coldly tells them he won't be giving any interviews, then strides towards the VIP ward.
I jog to keep up with him and see the hallway outside the ward filled with Daniels family relatives and company shareholders.
Mr. Daniels passed away half an hour ago. No one wants to look at the deceased anymore; they're all gathered around the lawyer, focused on the reading of the will.
Mateo pushes through the crowd and enters the ward.
Following him, I see the old man lying flat on the white bed. His eyes are closed, hands folded as if asleep, but his skin is wrinkled and covered with age spots. Soon, livor mortis will appear.
Such is life. Death is the only fair thing for everyone. No matter how successful or miserable someone is in life, all joys and pains vanish with death, turning into dust.
Mateo reaches out to touch the old man's hand and notices something between his fingers.
Mr. Daniels' body is starting to stiffen, so Mateo pries open his fingers one by one and pulls out a photograph.
He stares at it, then laughs coldly, "Still thinking about being buried with that woman? No way."
He tosses the photo, and it floats to the ground like a leaf.
I look down and am shocked to see the woman in the photo is the soprano Vittoria.
No wonder.
No wonder Lincoln wanted my design drafts at the theater.
Lincoln enters the ward at this moment. He bends down to pick up the photo, gently blows off the dust, and puts it in his suit pocket.
He then tells Mateo, "I agree with you. Let the old man be buried with your mom, and not disturb my mom's peace."
The next second, Mateo lunges at Lincoln, and they start fighting.