Matteo is standing behind his desk with his back to us, looking out the window at the grounds, his shoulders rigid and his hands clasped behind him.
He doesn't turn when we enter.
"Close the door," he says.
Enzo closes it and the click of the latch sounds impossibly loud in the quiet room.
We stand there and wait. Matteo still doesn't turn around, just stands there looking out the window, and the silence stretches and stretches until I can't bear it anymore.
"Matteo—"
"I'm not fucking stupid." His voice is flat and cold. "I want to make that clear before we start this conversation. I'm not stupid, I'm not blind. So don’t fucking play with me when I ask questions.”
He turns finally to look at us, and the expression on his face makes my stomach drop.
Fury. Betrayal. Hurt.
All of it directed at us in equal measure.
"I want a full explanation," he says, and his voice is deadly calm. "Everything. From the beginning. And I want the truth, not whatever version you think I want to hear." He looks at Enzo directly. "Because if you lie to me one more time, Bianchi, I will fucking kill you, no matter how important you are to me."
I believe him completely.
Enzo nods once. "I understand."
"Then start talking."
Enzo takes a breath and I watch him decide where to begin, watch him choose his words carefully.
"Four years ago Isabella told me she had feelings for me," he says. "On the porch at the cabin. She was eighteen. I rejected her."
Matteo's jaw tightens but he doesn't interrupt.
"I rejected her badly," Enzo continues. "Cruelly. I said things I shouldn't have said, things designed to make sure she never came back. Because I knew if I was gentle about it, she would keep hoping and I—" He stops. "I couldn't let that happen."
"Why not?" Matteo asks.
"Because I didn’t think I deserved her, because I didn’t want to betray your trust.” Enzo's voice is steady, honest and devastated. "So, I made it ugly. I humiliated her. I made sure she left hating me."
My throat is closing up listening to this, hearing him admit it out loud to Matteo, hearing the truth of what that night was laid bare in this room.
"And then?" Matteo prompts.
"And then I spent four years keeping my distance. Making sure we were never alone. Never letting myself—" Enzo stops. "But then the wedding happened. Killian's men came. You sent us to the cabin together for her safety and?—"
"And you couldn't keep your fucking hands off her anymore," Matteo finishes, his voice hard.
"Yes."
The single word lands like a stone.
Matteo looks at me. "Is that accurate? From your perspective?"
I nod because my voice won't work properly.
"I need to hear you say it, Isabella."
"Yes," I manage. "That's accurate. He rejected me four years ago. We didn't—we weren't—nothing happened until the cabin."
