Chapter 2 Into the Rain
The marble hallway outside the ballroom felt colder and infinitely quieter, though muffled music still followed Lucia through the walls like a cruel reminder of everything continuing without her. Her heels struck the polished floor in sharp, rhythmic echoes, each step pulling her farther from the applause, the congratulations, and the sickening sight of Matteo’s hand resting intimately on Bianca Valenti’s waist. She did not run, because running would have looked like absolute defeat. Instead, she walked with her spine rigidly straight, passing gilded portraits of dead Moretti men who had probably understood betrayal far better than love. The sprawling estate had been built for power, not comfort. Every crystal chandelier, every carved archway, and every guard standing silently existed solely to remind guests that the Morettis were still incredibly dangerous.
Lucia had spent her entire childhood in these halls. She had hidden behind those heavy curtains during adult meetings, stolen desserts from the kitchens, laughed with Sofia on the grand stairs, and waited by the front windows for Matteo’s car more times than she could count. Now, the house felt entirely unfamiliar, as if the betrayal had altered not only her future but poisoned every memory attached to the place. Her chest physically hurt. It actually hurt, as if someone had reached directly inside her ribs and violently twisted something vital. Outside, rain crashed against the stone staircase leading down to the driveway. Biting cold wind immediately wrapped around her bare shoulders, but Lucia barely noticed. Stepping beneath the covered entrance, she finally allowed herself one shaky breath, and then another. Hot tears burned her eyes instantly. She looked up toward the dark sky, absolutely furious with herself for every single emotion she could not control.
“Lucia.”
His deep voice followed her into the freezing rain. Of course it did.
Slowly, she turned around. Matteo stood beneath the grand archway near the entrance, one hand shoved in his pocket, rain misting against the dark fabric of his tailored suit. Up close, he looked exactly the same as always: beautiful, controlled, entirely untouchable. His hair was slightly damp, his jaw locked tight, and his gray eyes fixed on her with a heavy intensity that once would have made her heart stumble. Tonight, it only made her hate him.
For a few agonizing seconds, neither of them spoke. The heavy silence between them felt infinitely louder than shouting ever could. Somewhere behind him, the ballroom remained alive with music. His engagement celebration. Their ruthless world was already accepting Bianca beside him, readily adjusting around the alliance, erasing Lucia from a place she had never officially been allowed to occupy.
“You should’ve told me,” Lucia said finally. Her voice sounded embarrassingly fragile, but at least it didn’t break.
Matteo’s jaw tightened slightly. “It happened quickly.”
For a long moment, Lucia simply stared at him. Then she laughed softly, though the sound came out completely hollow. “Did it?”
Rainwater slid down her pale face, mixing freely with the tears she stubbornly refused to wipe away. She didn't want him to see how badly he had broken her, but pretending seemed entirely pointless now. The entire ballroom had already witnessed enough of her humiliation.
“You let me walk into that room without warning me,” she accused. “You let me stand there like an absolute fool while everyone waited to see my reaction.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”
“But it did.”
“Yes.”
That single, clinical word almost destroyed her more thoroughly than an apology ever would have. Yes.Simple. Controlled. As if he were confirming a minor business detail rather than the devastating end of something that had shaped half her life. Lucia stepped closer, desperately needing to see his face clearly.
“So that’s it? Political strategy?”
“It was necessary.”
The words landed exactly like a physical slap. Necessary. Not I’m sorry. Not I had no choice. Not I never meant to hurt you. Just necessary. A fierce anger flared sharply through her chest for the first time all evening. It was easier than the grief, much brighter than the humiliation, and she clung to it because it finally gave her something solid to stand on.
“You sound exactly like your father,” she whispered.
Something dangerous flickered across Matteo’s stoic face. A dark warning. Good.
“You don’t understand how this world works,” he said, his voice dropping low.
“I grew up in the exact same world you did.”
“Yes,” he replied coldly. “And that’s exactly why you should understand this.”
Lucia looked at him. Rain struck the stone relentlessly while luxury cars idled and guards pretended not to listen. Matteo had always been careful in public, measuring every expression, every word, and every breath. She wondered when he had become so good at hiding from her. Or maybe he always was, and she simply loved him too much to notice.
“You know what hurts most?” she asked quietly.
Matteo did not answer.
“I would’ve stayed beside you through anything.”
For the first time tonight, emotion broke his mask. It was brief — pain, regret, something dangerously close to longing — but Lucia saw it. Then it vanished.
“Lucia…”
“No.” She stepped back before he could reach her. “Don’t say my name like that. Not after tonight.”
His hand dropped slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“That makes it worse. You did it anyway.”
The truth settled with brutal clarity. He could have warned her. He could have explained. He could have chosen kindness, even if he couldn't choose love. Instead, he chose silence because it was easier. Maybe power hadn't taken him all at once. Maybe it took him piece by piece, until the man before her could destroy her and call it necessary.
Behind him, golden light spilled from the estate. His future waited inside: Bianca, the alliance, the empire he was raised to inherit. Lucia suddenly understood she was never truly part of that future. Not how she believed. Not how he allowed her to hope.
“You made your choice,” she said.
Matteo’s expression hardened, though she saw the rigid tension in his shoulders.
“I hope it was worth it.”
The rain intensified, driving cold needles against her skin, but Lucia welcomed it. Anything was better than standing beneath the warmth of that house while her heart broke in front of the man who caused it. She turned and walked down the wet stone steps into the storm.
This time, she did not look back.
Only when she reached the waiting car and the driver opened the heavy door did she allow herself to breathe again. Her hands trembled violently as she slid into the leather backseat, damp silk clinging to her legs, mascara burning beneath her eyes. Through the rain-streaked window, she saw Matteo still standing beneath the glowing lights of the Moretti estate.
Motionless.
Watching her leave.
For years, Lucia had believed Matteo De Luca would always come after her.
Tonight, for the first time, she hoped he wouldn’t.
