Chapter 15: The Web Tightens
(First-person POV: Alessia)
The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of my room, but it did little to chase away the unease that clung to me from the night before. My thoughts circled endlessly around Isabella—her confident smile, her piercing gaze, the way she seemed to have a history with Matteo that I couldn't begin to unravel.
I wasn't imagining it. Something about her presence had shifted the atmosphere of the mansion, like a storm gathering on the horizon.
I dressed quickly, pulling on a simple yet elegant dress. If I was going to face another day in this labyrinth of secrets, I needed to look composed—even if I felt anything but.
The house was quiet as I made my way down to breakfast. The servants moved with their usual quiet efficiency, their gazes never meeting mine for long. For a moment, I wondered if they knew more than I did about the web Matteo had spun.
The dining room was empty when I arrived. A solitary plate had been set for me, the silverware gleaming under the morning sun. I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, the silence of the room pressing in on me.
"Good morning, signora."
I turned to see the butler, a tall, older man with a calm demeanor, standing in the doorway. I hadn't had much interaction with him since arriving, but his presence was steady, almost reassuring.
"Good morning," I replied. "Has Matteo eaten?"
"Mr. Matteo left early this morning," the butler said, his voice even. "He had a business matter to attend to."
"Business?" I echoed, unable to hide the frustration in my voice. "He didn't mention anything to me."
The butler inclined his head, his expression giving nothing away. "He rarely does, signora."
Before I could press further, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor drew my attention. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Alessia," Isabella's voice called out, as smooth and deliberate as ever.
I clenched my jaw before schooling my expression and turning to greet her. She was dressed impeccably, her fitted white blouse and tailored trousers exuding confidence.
"Isabella," I said evenly. "Good morning."
She smiled, though there was a glint in her eyes that made my stomach tighten. "I hope I'm not intruding. I wanted to take a walk through the gardens. I thought you might like to join me."
I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to spend more time with her, but refusing would only give her the upper hand.
"Of course," I said, standing. "Let's go."
The walk to the gardens was quiet, though the tension between us was palpable. Isabella seemed at ease, her gaze flicking over the mansion's ornate hallways as though she were reacquainting herself with an old friend.
"This house is magnificent," she said as we stepped outside. "It's been years since I've been here, but it feels the same. Matteo always did have an eye for perfection."
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
"And you," she continued, her gaze settling on me. "How do you like it here? It must be… overwhelming."
"It has its moments," I replied carefully.
She chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "You're being diplomatic. I respect that. But you can't tell me it's easy being married to Matteo."
Her words were casual, but they struck a nerve.
"Why are you here, Isabella?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.
She turned to face me, her smile fading slightly. "I told you. Matteo and I have business to discuss."
"Business," I repeated. "That's all?"
Her gaze held mine, and for a moment, I thought she might drop the mask. But then she smiled again, her composure unshaken.
"Matteo has his world, Alessia," she said. "And I've always been a part of it. Just as you are now."
The implication in her words was clear: I was an outsider trying to navigate a world where she already belonged.
Before I could respond, a low voice interrupted us.
"Signora, there's a call for you."
I turned to see the butler standing at the edge of the garden, his expression calm but his presence urgent.
"For me?" I asked, confused.
"Yes, signora. It's Mr. Matteo."
I excused myself quickly, grateful for the interruption. As I followed the butler back into the house, my mind raced. Matteo rarely called me during the day. Whatever it was, it had to be important.
The phone was waiting for me in Matteo's study. I picked it up, my heart pounding.
"Matteo?"
"Alessia," his voice came through the line, steady but tense. "Is Isabella with you?"
"She was," I said. "I left her in the garden."
"Good," he said sharply. "Listen to me carefully. I need you to stay out of this. Do you understand?"
"Stay out of what?" I demanded.
"It doesn't matter," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Just promise me you won't interfere."
"Matteo—"
"I'll explain everything when I return," he interrupted. "But until then, stay away from Isabella."
Before I could say another word, the line went dead.
I stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to my ear, my mind racing.
Stay away from Isabella.
Whatever Matteo was involved in, it was bigger than I realized. And Isabella was at the center of it.
As I set the phone down, I turned to see Nico standing in the doorway. His expression was grim, his usual playfulness replaced with something far more serious.
"Alessia," he said quietly. "We need to talk."