MATTEO POV'S

The Face to Face

She opened the door wearing the same black silk shirt she’d worn that night in Positano, the one that slipped off one shoulder when she laughed too hard.

The sight of it hit me like a fist to the chest memory and regret colliding in the same breath.

I stepped inside without being invited, because she’d already stepped aside, and the door closed behind me with a soft finality that echoed through the foyer.

The apartment smelled of coffee and her jasmine from the diffuser, vanilla from the candles she always lit when she was thinking too hard.

Luca’s toys were scattered across the living room rug like evidence of a life I’d missed.

She walked ahead of me to the kitchen island, where two mugs sat waiting.

Black.

No sugar.

The way I liked it.

She didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“Sit.”

I sat on one of the high stools, the leather cool against my back.

She stayed standing, arms crossed loosely, weight on one hip, the posture she used when she was trying not to show how much something hurt.

I took the mug.

The heat seeped into my palms.

We didn’t speak for a long moment.

The city hummed far below us, a distant roar that felt like it belonged to someone else’s life.

She broke the silence first.

“You funded my company.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was an accusation wrapped in quiet disbelief.

I nodded once.

“Why?”

I looked at the steam rising from my coffee, watched it curl and disappear.

“Because I couldn’t let you fail.

I knew the numbers.

I knew how close you were to losing everything.

Every time you posted a new collection, every time you talked about fighting for the brand… I saw you.

I saw the woman I left behind.

And I couldn’t stand the thought of her world collapsing because I wasn’t there to catch it.”

She laughed softly, without humor.

“So you caught it from the shadows.

Like a coward.”

The word landed hard.

I didn’t flinch.

She was right.

“Yes.”

She finally looked at me.

Really looked.

Her eyes were the same green I remembered, but there were new lines at the corners, small ones that appeared when she smiled at Luca.

Lines I hadn’t been there to see form.

“You could have told me,” she said.

“You could have called.

Sent an email.

Dropped a postcard.

Anything.”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From my family.”

She went still.

I set the mug down.

Carefully.

Like it might break if I moved too fast.

“My mother found out about us the day I left Positano.

She had the villa searched.

Found the note you left under the pillow.

She showed me the dossier she’d already built on you.

Your address.

Your mother’s hospital bills.

Your student visa status.

Everything.”

Valentina’s breath caught, just once.

“She said if I ever contacted you again, she would make sure you disappeared.

Not metaphorically.

She showed me photos.

You walking home.

You at the park.

A laser dot on your back.”

I watched the color drain from her face.

“She gave me a choice,” I continued.

“Walk away forever, or watch you die in a ‘tragic accident.’

I chose silence.

I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

She stared at me.

“You believed her.”

“I did.”

“You let her win.”

“I let her think she won.”

Valentina pushed off the counter.

Walked to the window.

Stared out at the city without seeing it.

I stood up slowly.

Moved closer, but not too close.

“I funded the company because it was the only way I could stay connected to you without putting you in danger.

Every transfer was a message I couldn’t send any other way.

I’m sorry.

I’m here.

I’m still yours.

Even if you never knew it.”

She turned.

Her eyes were bright, too bright.

“And Luca?”

“I didn’t know.”

The words tasted like ash.

“I swear on my life I didn’t know until three weeks ago, when the council found the clinic records.

My mother knew.

She kept it from me.

She was planning to take him.

To raise him as a De Luca.

Without you.”

Valentina’s hand curled into a fist at her side.

“She can try.”

Her voice was low.

Dangerous.

I took another step.

“I won’t let her.”

She looked at me then really looked.

Searched my face for the lie she expected to find.

She didn’t find it.

“What do you want, Matteo?”

The question hung between us.

I answered without hesitation.

“I want my son.

I want you.

I want the chance to fix what I broke.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then she walked past me, toward the hallway that led to Luca’s room.

She paused at the doorway.

“You get one chance,” she said without turning around.

“One.

Screw it up, and I will destroy you.

Not because I hate you.

Because I don’t have the luxury of hating you anymore.

I have a son to protect.”

She disappeared down the hall.

I stood there alone in her kitchen, coffee going cold, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

One chance.

It was more than I deserved.

It was everything.