Chapter 9: The Thorn of Betrayal
(First-person POV: Alessia)
Matteo's words clung to me like a cold wind, wrapping around my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shake them off. Trust is a luxury. Loyalty has a price.
He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were some universal truth I should have understood from the beginning. But to me, trust wasn't a luxury—it was survival. Loyalty wasn't just a price to be paid; it had already cost me everything.
I spent the rest of the night pacing my room, replaying the moments I'd witnessed over the last few weeks: Luca's veiled threats, Matteo's impenetrable walls, and my growing sense of isolation. It was as though the house itself was alive, watching me, waiting to see how long I could endure its secrets.
Morning crept in slowly, and with it came the heaviness of another day in this cage masquerading as an estate. I hadn't slept. The memory of the gunshot from the night before still lingered, a sound that echoed in my chest like a heartbeat.
When I finally stepped out of my room, the house was quieter than usual. Not the peaceful kind of quiet—the oppressive kind that wrapped itself around you, making you feel as though you were being smothered.
I made my way to the dining room, half-hoping Matteo would be there, but the only person I found was Nico, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed.
"Where's Matteo?" I asked, grabbing a cup of coffee.
"Out," Nico replied without looking at me.
"Out where?"
"Business," he said curtly.
"Of course," I muttered, setting the cup down harder than I intended. "Do any of you ever give a straight answer?"
He glanced at me then, his gaze steady and unnervingly blank. "When there's a straight question."
I rolled my eyes and walked away, the frustration bubbling under my skin. Matteo was always "out," always somewhere else, leaving me here to piece together scraps of a story I wasn't even sure I wanted to know anymore.
But it wasn't just Matteo who was out of reach. This whole family operated like a fortress, its walls impenetrable, its secrets hidden in shadows I wasn't allowed to step into.
I needed a distraction.
The estate's garden had become my escape, a pocket of calm amid the chaos of my new reality. As I stepped outside, the crisp air greeted me, carrying the faint scent of earth and flowers. I wandered aimlessly through the hedges, letting the soft rustle of leaves dull the sharp edges of my thoughts.
But the peace didn't last.
"Alessia."
The voice froze me in place. It was low, deliberate, and far too close.
I turned slowly, finding Luca standing a few feet away, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored coat. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way he looked at me that sent a chill down my spine.
"I didn't realize we had company," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
Luca's lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not company, cara mia. I'm family."
The way he said it made my stomach twist.
"What do you want, Luca?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
He took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate and calculated, like a predator circling its prey. "I wanted to check on you," he said smoothly. "Make sure you're settling in."
"I'm fine," I replied curtly.
"Are you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "You seem… restless."
Restless. The word echoed in my mind, carrying an edge of accusation.
"I'm not restless," I said, though even I didn't believe it. "I just want answers."
Luca's smile widened, but it was cold, devoid of any warmth. "Answers are earned, Alessia. And they always come with a price."
The words stung, though I didn't fully understand why. "Why does everything in this family come with a price?" I shot back, anger flaring in my chest. "Why can't anyone just tell the truth?"
He let out a soft laugh, the sound low and unsettling. "Because the truth, cara mia, is the most dangerous weapon of all."
I wanted to argue, to demand he explain what he meant, but the way he was watching me—like he was measuring my every breath—made the words catch in my throat.
"Stay away from me," I said finally, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
Luca's smile didn't falter. "If only it were that simple."
I turned and walked away, my heart pounding as I put as much distance as I could between us.
When I returned to the house, Matteo was waiting for me in his office. The moment I stepped through the door, I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.
"Close the door," he said, his voice calm but firm.
I obeyed, shutting the door quietly before turning to face him.
"What's this about?" I asked, crossing my arms defensively.
"Luca," he said simply.
My stomach tightened. "What about him?"
Matteo leaned against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "He spoke to you."
It wasn't a question.
"How did you—"
"I know everything that happens in this house," he interrupted. "What did he say?"
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "He said I'm restless. And that restlessness is dangerous."
Matteo's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Stay away from him," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Why?" I demanded, my frustration bubbling over. "What aren't you telling me, Matteo? Why is everyone treating me like I'm some outsider to be kept in the dark?"
His gaze darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually tell me the truth. But then he shook his head, his expression hardening.
"Some truths," he said quietly, "are better left buried."
"Maybe for you," I snapped. "But I'm the one stuck in the middle of this. Don't I deserve to know what I'm up against?"
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before the steel returned. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" I repeated, incredulous. "What does that even mean?"
But Matteo didn't answer. He pushed past me and left the room, leaving me standing there with more questions than ever.
That night, I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as Matteo's words replayed over and over in my mind. Some truths are better left buried.
But the truth didn't stay buried for long.
It was well past midnight when I heard it—the faint sound of voices, hushed but tense, coming from somewhere outside my room.
I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent against the cold floor as I crept toward the door. The voices grew louder as I approached, and I recognized them instantly: Matteo and Nico.
"…can't trust him anymore," Matteo was saying, his voice low but urgent.
"Do you want me to handle it?" Nico asked.
Matteo hesitated. "Not yet. But if he makes another move…"
The rest of the sentence was lost as their voices faded, but it was enough to make my stomach churn.
Who couldn't Matteo trust?
And why did it feel like the answer might tear everything apart?