The Benefactor's Daughter Wants to Be Mrs. Vitale

At one in the morning, I came across a photo on i********:. The woman in the photo was wearing my husband's black dress shirt, sitting on our bed with her bare legs exposed. Three buttons at the collar were undone. And fastened to the left cuff was a silver wolf-head cufflink. I stared at that cufflink for a full five seconds. Only one person in the entire Vitale family was allowed to wear the wolf-head crest. The head of the family. My husband—Matteo Vitale. And I knew the woman wearing his shirt, too. Sophia Rossi. The "benefactor's daughter" who had lived off the Vitale family's money since she was eighteen—attending private schools, going to college, and moving in New York's high society as though she had been born into it. The caption was even more interesting. Some places are destined to belong to certain people from the very beginning. People were already stirring things up in the comments. A: [Sophia, are you finally going to become a Vitale?] She didn't deny it. She only replied with a coy smiley face. I was instantly wide awake. Beside me, Matteo was still fast asleep. I reached over and patted his cheek. "Wake up." The moment his eyes opened, his right hand instinctively reached toward the nightstand. He stopped halfway when he realized it was me. "What's wrong?" I shoved my phone in front of his face. "Mr. Vitale." "Someone just announced your new wife for you." Matteo frowned and stared at the screen for a couple of seconds. Then his eyes landed on the wolf-head cufflink. His expression turned completely cold. "She wore my family-head cufflink?" I narrowed my eyes. "So that's what you're worried about?" "The problem is that she's using the Vitale crest." Matteo sat up. All traces of sleepiness had vanished from his voice. "Evelyn, you know what it means in our circle when a woman publicly posts a photo wearing the head of the family's clothes and his personal crest?" "What does it mean?" "She's telling everyone who knows the Vitale family that she's been in my bedroom." He paused. "And that she has a place in this family as its lady of the house." I laughed. "So you're quite the catch." Matteo shot me a look. "You still have the energy to joke?" The next second, he picked up his phone and made a call. Not to Sophia. He called the estate manager instead. The call was answered immediately. "Yes, sir." "Find out who let Sophia Rossi into the master suite on the second floor today. And from now on, revoke her access to every private Vitale residence." There was a noticeable pause on the other end. "Even the Rossi family?" "Only Sophia." Matteo's voice remained indifferent. "I haven't finished repaying her father's debt. But she has no right to use that favor as a key." He hung up, then called Sophia. She answered on the first ring. "Matteo?" Her voice was soft and thrilled. She had obviously assumed that his late-night call was because of the photo. Matteo got straight to the point. "Delete the photo." Sophia was silent for a second. "Is Evelyn upset?" I almost laughed. She went there immediately. But Matteo was even more ruthless than I expected. "Why does everything have to be about my wife? I'm the one telling you to delete it." Sophia sounded wounded. "I was only borrowing your shirt. We've known each other since we were kids. I thought you wouldn't mind." "We did not grow up together." Matteo's tone was flat. "I stayed at your house for three days when I was eight. I'd just been released by kidnappers and had a fever of 104. Stop using those three days to fabricate twenty years of childhood friendship." The other end of the line went completely silent. I had to turn my head to hide my smile. Matteo continued. "And throw the shirt away. Return the cufflink by eight tomorrow morning. If even one is missing, I'll send someone to retrieve it personally." Sophia finally broke. "My father saved your life!" "Yes." "For twenty years, the Vitale family has paid off your debts, given your family a home, and covered your tuition so you could live in New York like you belonged to the upper class." His voice suddenly turned icy. "But that's a debt I owe Enzo Rossi. Not you. And certainly not a license for you to covet my wife's place." Sophia started crying. "I'm not trying to take her place." Matteo glanced at the photo. "Then delete it. Sixty seconds. If it's still up after one minute, every membership you have at private clubs under the Vitale name is gone too." The call ended. Forty-two seconds later, the photo disappeared. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand. "How are you so good at this?" Matteo lay back down and pulled me into his arms. "Good at what? Dealing with women like her. Is it supposed to be difficult?" "A lot of men claim they can't tell when a woman is playing them." He let out a quiet scoff, eyes closed. "They just don't want to call her out. After all, being desired is flattering. But I don't need it." I looked at him. "Why?" Matteo opened his eyes. "Because I already have a wife who's more than enough trouble to keep me busy." I kicked him. "Get lost." He laughed and pulled me even tighter. At the time, I had no idea. That photo was only the beginning of Sophia's descent into madness.