Page 182 of Matteo

“I need conclusive proof, Elizabeth.”

“That's what I'm hoping to give you.” I purse my lips together, my insides on fire. He didn't disregard it being me, so easily. I take in a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm. Trying to bury the hurt.

Why do people always believe the worst about me?

He wrongly accused me, and now I'm asking him to redirect that suspicion to someone he trusts completely. No wonder he's unable to conceive of another betrayal. But as he comes round from behind his desk, agitation rolls off him in waves. He looks more unsettled than ever. “I trusted him. I never thought ... I never ...”

He sounds so miserable, unraveling before my eyes. As if yet another person who meant a lot to him has let him down.

But … I realize then that this isn't about him trusting Alex more than me, it's about him feeling like the ground beneath him has shifted. That he’s lost trust and faith in the people he depended on.

And trust and faith, I have come to learn, are the pillars of Matteo's moral code.

Truth.

Loyalty.

Family.

Faith.

I’ve seen words inked into his skin and I’ve heard the stories behind them. My heart tells me to comfort him, but my mind tells me to hold steady.

“I set bait,” I announce.

His brows draw together.

“It’s a fake vulnerability,” I say. “Or it looks like one. Hidden in a place only someone already moving through the system would notice.”

I pause, because my voice is shaky, and this moment is surreal.

“And?” Matteo watches me.

“And someone who's already poking around where they shouldn't be will find it. Someone who knows the system well enough to recognize an opportunity, and arrogant enough to think they're untouchable.” I swallow. “When they touch it, they'll leave fingerprints. Digital ones, but just as damning.”

“How certain are you that it’s Alex?” His voice is flat, like he’s resigning himself to something awful.

“I’m certain enough not to sit around waiting for him to frame me better. But, like I said, I don't know who else might be involved. It could be Alex. It could be someone he trusted. It could be someone acting alone. We'll find out soon enough.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Maybe it’s pain, or shame, but it disappears before I get a chance to decide.

“What if you’re wrong?” he asks.

“Then nothing happens.”

“And if you’re right?”

I hold his gaze. “Then we find the person who tried to frame me”

“Fuck.” He moves toward the glass wall of his office, then back again, pacing around like a restless, caged beast. I see the battle inside him. How he’s trying to reconcile years of loyalty with logic. How resistance and anger meld within him. Finally he says, “I should call him in now.”

“No.”

His head snaps towards me. “Why not?”

“Because if you confront him now, he’ll deny it. He’ll have time to clean up whatever I haven’t already found. He’ll go to ground.” I step closer without meaning to, lowering my voice. “You need him to move, Matteo. You need him to think he’s safe.”

His eyes lock on mine. “You always do this,” he mutters.