The moon hung low in the sky tonight, casting an eerie glow over the room. I stared at the faint rise and fall of Matteo’s chest as he slept next to me.
The steady rhythm of his breathing was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of what I was about to do.
I had no idea how I would slip away without waking him up.
Matteo was so attuned to my movements, even in his sleep, that a simple trip to the bathroom would have him wide awake the next moment, groaning out my name in his half asleep state.
“Midnight. Alone.”
But if I wanted to know where Isabella was, I had to be crafty. If I wanted to find out why she had bailed on her wedding with Matteo, I had to be fast.
If I wanted to know if Luca was saying the truth, I had to leave this room tonight.
Matteo sure chose the wrong time of the month to start being nice to me.
I shifted slightly on the bed, testing Matteo’s reaction. His arm lay loosely draped across my waist, heavy and warm. Comforting. Slowly, I lifted it, inch by inch, holding my breath. When he didn’t stir, I gently swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my heart thundering as my bare feet touched the warm mattress.
A quick glance at Matteo showed he was still sound asleep.
The tiptoes across the room were one of the easiest things. When I was younger, Isabella and I would tiptoe at odd hours around the house just because we wanted ice cream.
I spared another glance at Matteo, wondering once again if I should tell him about this.
What if it was too dangerous? I couldn’t risk dragging him into it.
I slipped out of the room before I could do what I would regret, the door clicking softly behind me. The hallway was dim, and I moved quickly through the shadows, making my way to the garden.
Panic clawed at my throat at every cough. Every scratch. Every hint of movement. Every shadow.
The estate was quiet at this hour, a contrast to the usual hum of life that filled its halls during the day. The servants had long gone to bed, and the security detail Matteo had posted around the perimeter seemed lax, likely not expecting any trouble tonight.
When I reached the garden, the cool night air hit me, sharp and biting against my skin. The garden stretched out before me, bathed in moonlight. Dark hedges, fragrant blooms, and statues loomed in the distance, casting long shadows across the stone pathways.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me, glancing around for any sign of movement. For a moment, all was still.
Perhaps I was too early or misread the note….
That was when I saw him.
The same figure I saw some nights back, walking out from behind one of the larger statues near the centre of the garden. Tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the same black mask he wore that night that reflected the moonlight.
He approached with slow, measured steps, his presence commanding in the quiet of the night. I stood frozen, unsure of what to say, what to do.
“Valentina,” his voice was low, a deep rasp that sent a chill down my spine.
“You,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. “Why are you here? How do you know about my sister?”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I believe you’ll find this of interest,” he said, extending the note toward me. His gloved hand held it firmly, but not menacingly, as if he were simply delivering a message.
I hesitated, staring at the note, fear and hope battling within me. My fingers itched to snatch it away, to finally see what it said, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispered caution.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice steadier now, though my heart pounded furiously in my chest.
“It’s from Isabella.” He replied with a simple
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, making me stumble back a bit just to steady myself.
Isabella was communicating with this guy?
My fingers snatched the note from his hand before my brain could think anymore, trembling as I unfolded it.
A rush of warmth flushed through me at the familiar handwriting. Delicate, looping letters that could only belong to her.
I recognized it immediately, having seen it countless times on birthday cards, shopping lists, and love letters she’d written to Matteo when we were younger.
*Valentina,
I am so happy to write this to you, and I hope Jason can get it to you safely. I’m alive ( I think that was established already, but I need to put it there). Someone’s holding me captive. I can’t say where exactly, but it’s somewhere close to the Nevarro Estate. You have to trust me. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t trust anyone. I’ll find a way to contact you again. Be careful. He’s always watching.
Love, Jellybean*
My breath caught in my throat, and I read the note again, slower this time.
Jellybean had been my nickname for Isabella when we were younger. No one except us knew about it.
She was alive.
Someone was holding her captive.
Somewhere close.
I looked up at the masked man, Jason, my voice barely a whisper. “Where’s she?”
He watched me silently for a moment before answering. “You know I can’t disclose that, right?”
I knew it.
This was her handwriting. That was her nickname. My sister was out there, somewhere, being held against her will, like I had known, and she was close.
But one question burned brightly in my mind.
By who?
“Who’s holding her?” I demanded, my voice stronger now as my desperation soared through the roof.
The man tilted his head slightly, his lips stretched out in mock amusement. “I can’t disclose anything that’s not in the letter already. Those are the orders given to me.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick. “But know this, there are forces at play that you don’t understand. People you think you can trust may not be who they seem.”
His cryptic words only seemed to frustrate me more.
What did he mean? Was he talking about Matteo?
“What do you mean?”
The man didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step back, the shadows of the garden swallowing him further. “You’ll find out soon enough. Keep your eyes open. And don’t trust anyone.”
Jason and Isabella couldn’t have been louder with their choice of words.
Matteo.
Surely, they meant Matteo because who else was I going to trust but my husband.
With those words said, he Jason turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me standing there, clutching the note, and staring at his retreating form.
I should have run after him.
Maybe find some of the men who watched the estate to hold him until he told us where Isabella was held.
But my feet remained rooted stubbornly to the ground.
Isabella was alive. But someone was holding her. Someone close.
Jason’s words echoed in my brain, sending a shiver down my spine.
“People you think you can trust may not be what they seem.”
I turned, glancing back toward the mansion where Matteo slept soundly, completely unaware of the revelation that had just shattered my world.
Could it be true? Could Matteo be involved?
I couldn’t bring myself to believe it, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was already beginning to take root.
Clutching the note tightly in my hand, I made my way back to the mansion, my heart heavy with the weight of the secret I now carried.
Isabella was close.
Someone, perhaps someone I even trusted, was responsible for her captivity.
I didn’t think about what would happen if I came to the room and found Matteo awake, waiting for me.
Because that was exactly what he was doing.
Dressed in nothing but shorts, his eyes darkened as he stared down at me from the top of the stairs.
“Where are you coming from?”