MY HUSBAND’s ENEMY
1399 Words
The mansion appeared behind towering iron gates, its pale stone façade illuminated by rows of warm lights.
I stared through the window.
This place was ridiculously huge.
Sculpted gardens stretched across the grounds. Marble statues stood beside a long driveway, and men in dark suits watched our car approach.
My mouth went dry.
I had barely stepped out when the front doors swung open.
A man stood at the top of the marble staircase.
He wore a black suit that fitted him perfectly, a crisp white shirt, and no tie. His dark hair was brushed back, and his expression held the kind of calm that made everyone around him look nervous.
But it was the scar that caught my attention.
A long, ugly scar ran from the corner of his left eye down his cheek, like someone had slashed him across the face with a blade.
He descended the stairs slowly.
The men who had brought me here straightened immediately.
“Boss.”
He barely acknowledged them.
His gaze settled on me.
“So,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried. “You’re Lucia Abato.”
I lifted my chin.
“Yes.”
“Come inside.”
“Not until you tell me who you are.”
He studied me for a moment.
Then he offered a small, almost charming smile.
“Matteo Moretti.”
The moment I heard his name, I froze.
Moretti.
The Morettis.
Antonio’s rivals.
Oh, no.
“It’s rude to keep the host waiting. Let’s go in,” he said, stretching out his hand.
I took it and climbed the stairs.
We entered his office while his men stood right outside the door, giving me no chance to escape.
Matteo gestured towards a chair.
I remained standing.
“Sit, Lucia.”
“I’ll stand.”
He shrugged and settled into his own chair.
“As you wish.”
He simply watched me.
I had walked straight into the home of Antonio’s rival without knowing what I was getting myself into.
Most of all, I hated that I still wanted answers badly enough to stay.
“Tell me about Alessia,” I said.
Matteo’s expression grew thoughtful.
“She was a remarkable girl.”
“Okay?”
“Intelligent. Resourceful. Brave. She had a way of seeing through people, which is a rare quality in our world.”
“Our world?”
He ignored the question.
“She was loyal, too. At least, she tried to be.”
I was losing my patience.
“Can you tell me what I don’t already know? Look, if you’ve brought me here to tell me riddles, I’ll leave.”
He looked at me, a small smile forming.
Then he opened a drawer and removed a thin black folder.
He placed it on the desk between us.
“Alessia began working for my family when she was sixteen.”
“I know that.”
“She was young when I first met her. Angry, frightened, and far too intelligent to let anyone see either.”
I stared at him, my palms getting sweaty.
“She had lost faith in people who were supposed to protect her. I offered her something she desperately wanted.”
“What?”
“A future.”
I shook my head.
“Alessia worked at Crimson Club. She was my best friend. She lived with me.”
“Both things can be true.”
My mouth went dry.
Matteo opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Alessia stood beside a black car in one. In another, she wore a dark dress, her hair pulled back, her face stripped of the playful warmth I knew so well.
There were photographs of her entering buildings, speaking to men I didn’t recognize, and standing beside Matteo himself.
“Where did you get these?”
“From my own collection.”
I stared at the pictures, my brain struggling to take it all in.
“No. She would’ve told me.”
“Would she?”
I looked up sharply.
Matteo’s voice remained gentle, which somehow made his words crueler.
“Lucia, your friend had secrets. Important ones. She was very good at keeping them.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
“Why?” I asked.
Matteo folded his hands on the desk.
“Because she had a job to do.”
I could barely hear myself think.
“What job?”
“She was one of my best operatives. She gathered information, watched people, and reported what she discovered. She was good at it, too. Better than most men twice her age.”
A spy?
For the Moretti family?
“Why did you decide to tell me all this?”
“Because you deserve to know who your friend really was.”
“No. You want something from me.”
For the first time, Matteo smiled without pretending to be kind.
“You’re smarter than you look.”
“f**k you.”
He laughed softly.
“There she is. Alessia always said you had a temper.”
My heart twisted painfully at the mention of her name.
“You knew me?”
“She talked about you more than you might imagine.”
I looked away.
“She should have been here with you right now.”
“Antonio Dante killed her,” I whispered.
Matteo leaned forward.
“You can have your revenge.”
“You want me to help you kill him.”
“I want you to help me bring him down.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“And why do you think I’m capable of achieving that?”
“Well, for starters, you’re living with him now, and if I’m correct, you’re legally his wife or yet to be.”
“How do you even know all these?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Are you with me?” he asked, stretching out his hand.
“You think I’m going to betray my husband for you?”
“Your husband,” he snickered. “Tell me, Lucia. Does he treat you like a wife? Or does he treat you like property?”
I said nothing.
He didn’t need an answer.
“He’s using you,” Matteo continued. “Whatever reason he had for forcing you into that marriage, it wasn’t love. Men like Antonio don’t make sacrifices without expecting something in return.”
“You don’t know anything about my marriage.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
I couldn’t.
He was right.
Matteo stood and walked towards the window.
“It’s in your hands now, Miss Lucia.”
“I need to get back,” I said.
He watched me for a moment.
Then he nodded towards the door.
“Of course.”
I blinked.
One of the men opened the door.
Just before I reached the hallway, he spoke again.
“Lucia.”
I stopped.
“I’ll be in touch. Decide quickly.”
Matteo’s scar caught the light, making the jagged mark across his face look even deeper.
The drive back was quiet.
They dropped me back at the alley, and I had to order a cab to take me back to the mansion.
I sat in the back seat with the folder of photographs Matteo had allowed me to keep, staring at the image of my best friend, confused about my next move.
When the car finally stopped outside Antonio’s mansion, I barely noticed.
I stepped out and walked towards the entrance, my mind still trapped in that office.
The front door opened before I reached it.
Antonio stood on the other side.
His expression was cold.
Behind him, two guards and the driver who dropped me at the café stood near the staircase.
Then his gaze dropped to the folder in my hand.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
I tightened my grip on the folder.
“No ‘Welcome home, wifey’?”
“Now is not the time for jokes, Lucia.”
“Where have you been?”
“I told you, I went to see my mom.”
“And…?”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then Antonio spoke, his voice low enough that I almost didn’t hear him.
“Tell me you didn’t go to Matteo Moretti.”
My heart stopped.
How did he know that?
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