Page 184 of Matteo

A username appears.

acrawford

For a few seconds, I just stare at it.

“No way,” I whisper.

I click again, pulling up the employee directory attached to the account.

The profile loads.

ALEX CRAWFORD

For one suspended second Matteo doesn’t react at all. It’s like his whole body forgets how. Then he stands up so abruptly the chair legs scrape the floor.

Sonny and Joel both glance over.

“No,” Matteo says again, a desperation in his tone.

I look up at him. “He took it.”

His face has gone white.

“He interacted with the false pathway, then tried to bury the touch under routine activity. Only he couldn’t know I’d tagged it.” I swallow, hearing my own voice go flat and precise. “This isn’t just overlap anymore. It’s him. Origin point, timestamp, behavioral match. It’s him. Irrefutable proof.”

Matteo stares at the screen like he’s willing it to change and show a different outcome. Then, very softly, “Jesus Fucking Christ,” he mutters.

It takes a while for my emotions to hit. At first I sink back against my chair, relief turning my bones to jelly. My stomach sinks, and fury rears its ugly head.

Alex tried to frame me.

Alex, whom I trusted and thought was a good guy, decent and respectable and a friend. I experienced weeks of humiliation, suspicion and whispers, not just the restrictions on my account. I tried not to notice the rumors that spread. The gossip that tore around the office like wildfire.

I can’t shake it, the look on Matteo’s face in Dubrovnik when he confronted me with Alex’s allegations.

All because this man wanted a shield, wanted to pin his crimes on me.

Why?

Because I was a woman? Because I was convenient? Because I found out it was an inside job. Because I figured it out.

I rise to standing. “You see it now?”

“Into my office.”

Matteo walks away, and I see the way his shoulders sag, the heaviness in his stride. The weight he carries. A part of me fills with resentment. I thought proving it wasn’t me would change everything. I thought he’d feel reassured. Instead, he looks broken. Devastated even.

It hurts more than ever.

I walk past him into the office, and he shuts the door behind us. He looks at me then, and I almost wish he didn’t, because I can see exactly what he’s thinking. It’s not just that Alex did it. It's that Alex was one of his people. One of the people he trusted.

Standing here, watching him unravel, I can't help noticing that he looks more devastated by Alex's betrayal than relieved by my innocence. A tight knot forms in my chest.

“It’s not enough is it?” My voice is hoarse, with disappointment and dismay. “It hurts more that it’s him. I thought it would be enough that I’d proved it wasn’t me.”

He opens his mouth, but I step back and look away, needing to get away from here. From him.

“Elizabeth,” he says, voice rough. “I’m sorry—”