Deception's Paradise

CHAPTER 1.2

MATTEO

Leaving the room, Matteo padded down the corridor, his shoes sinking slightly into the gray carpet. The heavy silence was broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning and the muffled drumming of rain as it began to pour down on the night sky.

In the kitchen, he opened the fridge, its cool light illuminating the dark granite countertop. He took out a pitcher of Sophie’s favorite juice, its fresh, citrus scent filling the air, and carefully poured the drink into a glass. Next, he chose an aged cognac for himself, the amber liquid drizzling slowly like honey into a small, round glass. He contemplated the glass for a moment, as if the drink might offer some answer to the growing confusion within him.

The weight of the week was pressing down on him like an invisible chain. After suffocating days in a chalet in the mountains of British Columbia, trying to predict the moves of a traitor in his company, all Matteo wanted was serenity. But the tension in the air indicated that this night would not be peaceful.

Returning to the living room, a brief smile touched his face as he spotted Sophie’s sneakers, carelessly tossed near the sofa. Her characteristic disarray brought a touch of normalcy to the luxurious, meticulously arranged space. The trail of her scattered belongings—from the wool coat left on the floor to the open purse on the sofa—seemed to shout that Sophie always arrived in a hurry to live life to the fullest.

Matteo sighed, holding the glass of cognac but not touching it. He ran his fingers through his hair, lightly pressing on his scalp as he tried to ease a growing headache. Sophie was different. Her lightness, the carefree way she faced life, disarmed him in a way no one else could. But that emotional outburst? That didn’t sound like her.

He leaned back in the leather armchair by the window, watching the city outside. The lights of the buildings shone through the glass, each one a reminder of the responsibilities that awaited him. The scent of the storm filled the air, a blend of ozone and humidity. Matteo felt a growing pressure in his chest—a mix of weariness and a deeper restlessness that he hesitated to name.

It was rare, but Matteo admitted to himself: maybe Sophie needed something more. More attention, more care. He should have been more sensitive to her emotional outburst instead of treating it like an inconvenience.

“I should have noticed,” he murmured to himself, remembering the times he had ignored the signs.

Resolved, he stood up to return to the suite. However, as he passed by her purse, a piece of paper slipped out, gliding across the hardwood floor as if fate wanted it to be discovered. Matteo stopped abruptly.

The paper.

He snatched the sheet with tense fingers, his eyes fixated on the printed letters. Every word seemed to burn into his mind. His heart pounded, the beats echoing in his ears like a war drum.

It was impossible to ignore what he held. The evidence he had tossed out earlier, as part of a trap, was now right there—so close to her. That confidential information about his projects... she knew. She had access.

Matteo felt the air in the room thicken, the tension accumulating around him like a storm about to break. His mind spun, trying to piece things together. Was Sophie the traitor? Could the one who had always been his safe harbor in the midst of chaos be plotting the destruction of everything he had built?

Anger and disbelief dueled inside him, each emotion threatening to consume his reason. Matteo tasted the bitter flavor of betrayal in his mouth, but also a thread of doubt that pierced his rage.

He glanced toward the suite, where Sophie was waiting for him, perhaps expecting him to return with the drinks. Now, however, every one of her movements, every word she had uttered, seemed to carry a new meaning. Was it all a facade?

Matteo took a deep breath, the aroma of the cognac on the table mixing with the metallic scent of the rain. He knew he couldn’t confront her immediately. He needed more. More evidence. He tried to get a better handle on his emotions.

Meanwhile, the paper in his hand seemed to burn, a symbol of the rift that this night had brought.

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together, revealing a grim picture that seemed to consume the air around him. The light in Matteo’s office flickered timidly, casting unsettling shadows on the walls. The distant sound of the city, with hurried vehicles passing by, echoed as a muffled sound of something more distant and irreversible. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of the silence. His meticulously crafted plans to expand his business began to vanish one by one, right after Sophie had moved into his luxurious apartment. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push that thought away. But he couldn't.

The memory of Enzo’s phone call with his business partner just a few hours earlier was fixed in his mind like a sharp blade. The tone of his friend’s voice seemed to echo inside his head. “She’s involved in this, Matteo. The files go missing right after she gets there, and you know it!” Instead of a deeper concern, at that moment, he had only felt a slight frustration, a nasty knot in his stomach. He had planned to discuss the matter with Sophie when he saw her, not imagining that the truth was already suffocating him.

Now, in front of him, the pieces finally arranged themselves, forming a cruel and indisputable image. He wished, with all his heart, that this revelation was wrong, that it was all just a misunderstanding, an alarming coincidence. But the idea of mistrust expanded in his mind, slowly slithering like a snake, coiling around him, squeezing like a constrictor, while the crumpled paper in his hands became a symbol not only of betrayal but also of the pain he felt and which, deep inside, he knew he couldn’t ignore forever.

The heat in his body rose with every step he took toward the bedroom, where Sophie was waiting for him. His feet thundered on the floor, and the sweet aroma of the candles scattered throughout the room made the air almost unbearable. A strange and uncomfortable feeling dominated his being. Each step made him feel more distant from everything he thought he knew about her. As he entered the room, he found her sitting on the bed. Her expression, marked by tears, mirrored his own pain, but something in Matteo couldn’t soften. He only saw how skilled Sophie had become at manipulating his emotions, camouflaging herself in the shadows of her own game.

Sophie stared at him, confused, her gaze lost in her own feelings, as if something inside her were shattering. The soft light of the lamp above her reflected in her tears, creating an aura of fragility that contradicted the growing rage in Matteo.

“I want you out of my apartment in 30 minutes,” he declared, his voice cold and sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a honed blade.

Sophie looked at him, stunned, trying to understand what she had just heard. The tension between them mounted like a silent storm about to erupt.

“I don’t understand,” she replied, her voice trembling, choked with confusion and pain. The words seemed to dissolve into the heavy atmosphere, as if the very air were holding back the truth.

“You have 30 minutes to gather your belongings before I call security to have you escorted out,” Matteo stated, the coldness in his voice almost freezing the room. Every syllable of his declaration resonated with Sophie, who rose abruptly, the sudden movement shattering the silence.

She didn’t understand: what was happening? How could everything change so quickly from good to bad? Before talking about the pregnancy, she felt in control because she was open to resolving things between them, so it was as if she were sailing on unknown but calm seas. However, now the waters were turbulent and directionless, and all that was left was the sharp pain of disappointment.

“What’s going on? Why are you so mad at me? Is it because of what you said about me being your mistress? You can’t imagine how much of a shock that was to me. I thought I meant something more to you.”

Matteo showed no sign of softening his tone. He raised his hand, displaying several crumpled sheets of paper, now marked with the imprints of his grip. The paper became almost a metaphor for the situation itself—claimed, corrupted, destroyed.

“Now you have only 28 minutes left,” Matteo insisted, his eyes fixed on her, penetrating, as if searching her soul. Rage pulsed through his fingers, and he squeezed the paper harder. “How could you think this would be acceptable? Do you really believe I would put up with your betrayal? I have no compassion for traitors and liars, and you, my dear, excel at being both.”

Blood drained from Sophie’s face, and she hesitated, her knees trembling as if the ground beneath her were crumbling. But Matteo offered not the slightest bit of help. Silence enveloped her like a heavy cloak, and the pain of his words hit her like a cruel blow of fate. She knew, deep down, that she had lost control long before her own feelings became unrecognizable.

The air in the room felt dense, as if it were absorbing all the accumulated tension. The soft light of the candles in the background became dimmer and more distant, as if the surrounding environment were fading. Something inside Matteo was also breaking, but he could not, he must not, let that become visible. What was left for him now was only the pain of a reality that was imposing itself more and more cruelly.

Sophie watched Matteo, his eyes fixed on her face, capturing the internal battle she was fighting. Her expression showed a vulnerability she was trying to hide under a mask of shock. He felt the pain emanating from her, as if he could touch it in the shadows that enveloped her. Despite the storm of rage that roared in his chest, a small part of Matteo wanted to offer a thread of empathy. However, the betrayal had left indelible marks, similar to deep scars carved by the erosion of time.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What documents are those?” Her voice came out low, with a frantic, unknowing tone, as if she were fighting to maintain control.

Sophie, however, couldn’t hold back her reaction any longer. Her lips, once sensual and adorned with a smile, now twisted into an expression of sadness, accompanied by a confusion that she tried to hide the panic bubbling up inside.

“The ones you took from me,” she declared, her voice laced with venom, which seemed to clash with the gravity of the moment. Her eyes shimmered with a subtle threat, but her body was tense, like a rope about to snap. “You’re lucky I don’t contact the authorities. But if I have to deal with you again, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Your efforts undermined my company, but the fool here was you. These are fake documents I hid to uncover the person responsible.”

Matteo remained static, his posture rigid and controlled, although a shadow of doubt crossed his face for a brief moment, like a flash of lightning illuminating the sky, making the darkness clear. His eyes widened, fixing on Matteo with an analytical look, not fully believing her words.

“I took them?” Her voice rose, the tension marked in every syllable. Her nervousness began to break her facade of confusion. Suddenly, Sophie reached out and snatched the papers from Matteo’s hands, avoiding his touch as if it were poison. She inspected them, confused, as the words moved before her eyes. It was a printed internal email, clearly from the company's ISP address, a secret lost in the pages. Confidential information about construction projects for a proposal in a foreign metropolis. Photocopies and blurry drawings, a jumble of details that seemed incomprehensible, like a meaningless code.

“You think I stole these papers?” The question came through her teeth, barely audible, almost a whisper in the quiet room. Sophie lifted her chin, daring him to meet her gaze, while her heart pounded wildly, as if the world were crumbling around her. The scent of rage and the soft perfume she wore now mingled, creating an aura of tension.

“These papers were in your purse. Don’t play me for a fool by denying what you did,” Matteo said, the coldness of his voice slicing through the dense air. “I want you out of my life.”

He made a dramatic gesture, as if it were all just a game he had already won. He looked at his watch with disdain, the metal reflecting in the faint candlelight, casting short, hard shadows across the room.

“Now you have only 25 minutes.”

The knot in Sophie’s throat tightened, compressing her voice and the air from her lungs. She could barely think, her body paralyzed by the pain that spread like a heavy anchor, but she couldn’t fall apart there. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the door, barely feeling her feet touch the floor. The urge to get out of there was urgent. Suffocation enveloped her as her footsteps echoed, each one heavier than the last.

At the doorknob, her hands trembled as she tried to grasp it, as if she needed that support to keep from collapsing. When she finally turned the knob and looked back, Matteo’s gaze remained unchanged, icy. His eyes, sharp as blades, conveyed no emotion. The deep wrinkles in the skin around his lips told stories of a life full of challenges, a hardened and relentless face. He was there, an unmovable rock, without mercy.

“How could you ever believe I was capable of something like this?” The words came out, weakening from Sophie. They were lost in the air, dissipating before reaching his ears. The weight of his gaze crushed her, heavier than any accusation. Without waiting for a response, she turned and left quickly, without another word, without hope.