Chapter 132: Chapter-132. (Why Did Dave Do It?).
The next morning came too quickly.
I barely slept. My mind had been a loop of Matteo’s voice, Sophie’s worried face, and the one question that refused to die.
Why did Dave do it?
By the time the black car arrived outside Sophie and Edward’s house, I was already waiting by the gate. I was dressed in a beige trench coat and dark jeans.
Simple, but sharp enough to remind myself that I wasn’t the same woman who once cried herself to sleep beside a man who pretended to forget her.
The driver stepped out, tall and stiff, dressed in an all-black suit. He didn’t speak a word. Just opened the rear door for me with a curt nod.
No greeting.
No small talk.
Not that I expected any.
Matteo’s people were trained to keep things professional, or should I clarify it as emotionless, efficient, and unreadable.
The kind of people who could walk past you in a crowd and disappear before you even notice.
I got in, and the door shut behind me with a heavy thud.
The inside of the car smelled faintly of leather and something metallic, maybe the hint of a gun holster tucked under the driver’s coat.
The engine hummed to life, and we began to move.
Silence filled the car, the kind that made every thought echo louder.
I stared out the window, watching the world blur by: the morning crowds, the honking cars, the smell of wet asphalt after early morning rain.
And before I knew it, my mind drifted.
Back to that day. The day I asked Dave for a divorce.
The way his face had frozen. His expression changed from shock and confusion to something else.
Something colder.
He tried to discuss it out like every time, and when it doesn’t work. He almost begged and pleaded, and even then, I stayed on my ground.
Then he just stared at me with those icy blue eyes, as if I were the one who had betrayed him.
And then, when I told him I knew his secret, that he never lost his memory, that all those months of pretending, all those moments of fake vulnerability, had been nothing more than his act to keep me close, his expression completely shifted from angry to shock.
No denial.
No anger.
Just silence.
That was the moment I knew everything I had believed about our marriage was a lie.
He didn’t get me into his life because of an accident, but he chose to when it suited him.
He didn’t stay because he loved me. He stayed because he needed me near him.
But for what?
That question haunted me every day since.
Why, after three years of ignoring me, after years of cold dinners and lonely nights, did he suddenly start acting like he cared?
Why pretend to lose his memory, why pull me back into his life, only to tear everything down later?
I pressed my palm against the car door, as if grounding myself.
Dave would never tell me. Not now.
And as for his family...Grandpa Albert, the Morris estate, the polite smiles hiding sharp intentions. I couldn’t trust a single one of them. They would twist the truth before they had ever let it see daylight.
So that left me with one option.
Matteo Romano.
A man who had built his empire on secrets. If anyone could dig out the truth buried beneath the Morris family’s lies, it was him.
The only problem was... the truth never came cheap.
The car slowed, then turned into a long driveway lined with marble pillars and trimmed hedges that looked like they had been sculpted by someone with an obsession for control.
We came to a stop in front of a large mansion. White stone walls, tall glass windows, and an iron gate that could probably withstand a war.
When the driver got out and opened my door, I noticed he still had not said a word. He simply gestured toward the front steps, his expression unreadable.
"Thank you," I said politely, though he did not respond.
I stepped out, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble stairs echoing faintly in the quiet morning air.
The doors opened before I even reached them.
Standing there was Alfred, the butler.
I recognized him instantly. The tall, silver-haired old man with a face that somehow carried both strictness and kindness in equal measure.
I had seen him that day when Edward brought us here the first time.
"Good morning, Miss Elena," Alfred greeted with a polite bow. His voice was smooth, disciplined, and perfectly formal.
"Good morning, Alfred. It’s nice to see you again," I replied, matching his tone with equal politeness.
His lips twitched into a faint smile. "The pleasure is mine, Miss. The Master is expecting you in the study."
Of course he was. Matteo did not waste time with courtesies.
Alfred led me through the long hallways of the mansion. The air smelled faintly of oak and expensive cologne.
The walls were lined with paintings...portraits of men who probably built this family’s fortune one bullet at a time, which I did not notice at my first visit.
Every step I took echoed against the marble floor. It was unnervingly quiet, except for the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere nearby.
As we walked, I caught glimpses of the world outside through the tall windows. Sprawling gardens, fountains, and a view of the city far beyond the gates.
A beautiful prison for those who lived inside it.
Finally, Alfred stopped in front of a tall mahogany door.
He turned to me, his posture perfectly straight. "You may go in, Miss Elena. The Master is waiting."
For some reason, my heart started to race.
I had faced worse things.
Lies, heartbreak, betrayal, and yet, standing before that door, I felt a nervous chill creep down my spine.
Maybe it was because Matteo Romano was not the kind of man you could predict.
He was sharp, dangerous, always three steps ahead. You never really knew if you were his ally or his pawn until it was too late.
I took a slow breath, straightened my coat, and knocked.
"Come in," his smooth and steady voice came from the other side.
The moment I stepped in, I was greeted by a faint smell of cigar smoke and expensive whiskey.
The study was large, filled with dark wooden shelves and old books. Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, landing on Matteo, who was seated behind his desk, dressed in a dark grey suit with his usual calm confidence.
He looked up as I entered, his eyes locking onto mine instantly.
"Elena, right on time," he greeted, leaning back slightly in his chair.
I replied, keeping my voice even, "Of course, you don’t seem like someone who likes to wait."
That earned a faint smirk, "You are learning."
I crossed the room slowly, every click of my heel echoing in the silence, and took a seat opposite him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Matteo poured himself a glass of whiskey and then glanced at me. "Would you like one?"
"No, thank you. It’s too early for that." I said, folding my hands in my lap.
He shrugged lightly. "For some of us, it’s never too early."
Then he took a slow sip, eyes never leaving me.
I said after a moment, "So, you said you had information."
He set his glass down. "Straight to business. I like that."
"I didn’t come here for small talk," I said simply.
He chuckled with a tinge of sarcasm, "Oh no, we absolutely don’t."
There was a pause before he continued, "Tell me, Elena. Are you still certain you want the truth?"
I frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind that determines whether you’re ready for what comes next."
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk. "The truth isn’t always a gift. Sometimes, it’s a weapon. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And once you use it, there’s no going back."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn’t flinch. "I’m not afraid of the truth, Matteo."
He studied me for a long moment before finally nodding. "Good."
Then, he opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a thin folder.
He placed it on the table, sliding it toward me.
"Everything I could gather on the Morris family, your husband, and his recent activities. It’s not the full picture yet, but it’s a start. And..."
He paused mid-sentence, his gaze flicking briefly toward the folder before returning to her face. The stillness in the room sharpened, the faint ticking of the clock suddenly louder.
Elena narrowed her eyes slightly. "And what?"
Matteo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He whispered, " Let’s just say....I managed to get my hands on something rather interesting. Something even you wouldn’t have expected from that dear husband of yours."