The night was heavy, with the kind of silence that presses against your chest, suffocating. Matteo sat in his study, the room dimly lit by a single lamp. A stack of old files lay open on the desk before him, documents and photographs scattered in disarray. His mind was sharp, each piece of information connecting like fragments of a broken mirror, reflecting a truth he wasn't prepared for.
Luca entered the room without knocking, as was his habit, holding a sleek black folder. His expression was grim, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something far more serious.
"Matteo," he said, placing the folder on the desk, "I think you'll want to see this."
Matteo's jaw tightened as he opened the folder. Inside was a collection of yellowed news clippings, handwritten notes, and a single photograph that made his breath catch. The photograph showed a younger man, eyes fierce, with a press badge pinned to his shirt.
"Her father," Luca said, his voice low. "James Thorne. He was a journalist. The one who exposed your father's operations all those years ago."
Matteo's fingers traced the edge of the photograph, his mind flashing back to memories he had buried deep. His father, a powerful and ruthless man, had been taken down by a single article—a damning expose written by James Thorne. It had been the beginning of the end.
"He didn't just expose him," Matteo said, his voice tight. "He killed him."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly how it happened, boss. According to these reports…" He pulled out a faded police file and placed it in front of Matteo. "Your father went after him first. James fought back, and things... escalated."
Matteo's eyes scanned the report, his stomach churning. It detailed the confrontation: his father, desperate and cornered, had tried to eliminate the journalist who had ruined him. But in the chaos, James Thorne had acted in self-defense, and Matteo's father had paid the ultimate price.
The room seemed to close in around him, the air thick with the weight of this revelation. Natasha's father had been his family's enemy, the man responsible for destroying everything Matteo had known.
"Does she know?" Matteo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Luca shook his head. "Doubtful. She was just a kid when it happened. And given her relationship with him now, I'd say he's kept her in the dark. But you, Matteo… you can't ignore this."
Matteo leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. This changed everything. Natasha wasn't just an innocent caught in his world—she was the daughter of the man who had destroyed his family.
Natasha had wandered into the garden, her steps hesitant as she traced her fingers along the cold stone walls. Matteo had been watching her through the security cameras, his jaw tight as he noted her growing restlessness.
He found her sitting on the swing beneath the large oak tree. The sight of her—the woman he was supposed to protect—triggered a conflict within him. Her vulnerability stirred something in him, but his world didn't allow for softness.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked gruffly, his voice sharp and void of warmth.
Startled, Natasha looked up. Her expression was a mix of sadness and defiance. "Getting some fresh air. Or do I need permission for that too?"
Matteo crossed his arms, his posture dominating. "You don't leave the house, not without my say-so. Do you understand?"
Natasha stood, her voice rising. "I don't understand anything! Why am I here? What are you so afraid of, Matteo? I'm not a child—you can't keep me locked up like this."
His eyes darkened, and in one swift move, he stepped closer, towering over her. "You don't get to question me, Natasha. I do what I do to keep you alive. If you don't like it, too bad. This isn't a fairytale."
---
The argument was interrupted by Luca, who approached them briskly. "Boss, we have a situation. One of the men from the opposition has been spotted nearby."
Matteo's expression hardened. "Where?"
Luca gestured towards the front gates. "He's been caught trying to slip a message to someone on the inside. What do you want us to do with him?"
Natasha watched the exchange with growing unease. Matteo's demeanor changed, his anger transforming into something cold and terrifying. "Bring him to me," he ordered.
Minutes later, Natasha stood frozen as Matteo's men dragged a struggling man into the garden. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to see what was about to happen.
"Matteo, please," she whispered, fear in her voice.
But Matteo was unyielding. He grabbed the man by the collar, his voice like ice. "Who sent you?"
The man stammered, his fear evident, but Matteo's patience had worn thin. Without hesitation, he pulled out his gun and shot him in the chest.
Natasha screamed, her hands flying to her mouth as the man crumpled to the ground. The reality of Matteo's world hit her like a wave, and for the first time, she realized just how dangerous he truly was.
Matteo turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You needed to see this, Natasha. This is the world we live in. The only way to survive is to be ruthless."
Her body trembled as she backed away, tears streaming down her face. "You're a monster," she whispered, her voice shaking.
---
That night, Matteo's cruelty took another form. He found her in her room, his presence dominating as he loomed over her. "You think you're better than this? Better than me?" he snarled, grabbing her arm.
"Let go of me!" she cried, struggling against his grip.
He smirked darkly, his grip tightening just enough to make her feel powerless. "You don't understand, Natasha. You don't get to walk away from this."
When she finally managed to pull free, her heart raced with fear and anger. Matteo's actions had shattered any illusion she had about him.
---
That night, Matteo found Natasha in her room, pacing like a caged animal. She flinched when he entered, her fear evident.
"You think I'm a monster?" he said, his voice low but menacing. "You've seen nothing yet."
Natasha's breath caught as he advanced towards her. "Why are you doing this to me, Matteo?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "At first, you said you were protecting me. But now… now it feels like you're the one I need protection from. What changed?"
Matteo's expression hardened, his jaw tightening. After a moment of silence, he let out a bitter laugh.
"You really want to know?" he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Your father. That's what changed. Everything I'm doing is because of him."
Natasha froze, confusion etched on her face. "What does my father have to do with any of this?"
Matteo leaned in, his voice dripping with venom. "Your father killed my father."
Her knees buckled, and she stumbled back, gripping the edge of the table for support. "That's impossible!" she gasped. "My father's a journalist, not a murderer!"
Matteo's jaw clenched as he slammed his hand against the wall, making her flinch. "Your saint of a father was trying to expose my family's business. He recorded footage—illegal activities, deals, everything. My father confronted him, tried to stop him, and your father killed him!"
Natasha shook her head in disbelief. "No… no, that can't be true."
"Oh, it's true," Matteo said bitterly. "He called it self-defense. But he took my father's life, and with him, everything I held dear. Do you have any idea what that did to me? To my family?"
Tears streamed down Natasha's face as she whispered, "I didn't know. He never told me any of this."
Matteo's eyes softened for a moment before hardening again. "Of course, he didn't. He left you to deal with the fallout. And now, you're here, Natasha. Paying for his sins."
---
That night, Natasha couldn't sleep. Matteo's words echoed in her mind, each one a knife to her heart. As dawn approached, she made her move.
Slipping out of her room, she navigated through the mansion, her steps light and calculated. The back door was in sight when she heard his voice.
"Going somewhere?" Matteo stepped out of the shadows, his voice cold and mocking.
Natasha froze, her heart sinking. She turned slowly, meeting his piercing gaze.
"You really thought you could escape?" he asked, his tone dangerously low.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, "You've already taken everything from me. What more do you want?"
Matteo stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "What I want," he said, his voice chillingly calm, "is for you to understand what real hell feels like."
Natasha trembled under his gaze. "Why?" she cried. "Why are you so cruel? You're not just punishing me—you're torturing me!"
Matteo's lips curled into a bitter smile. "This isn't cruelty, Natasha. It's justice."
Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards the mansion. "Run all you want," he said, his voice a dark promise. "But there's no escaping me. Not now, not ever."
---