Chapter 133: Chapter-133. (Son Of The Morris I).
Matteo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He whispered, " Let’s just say....I managed to get my hands on something rather interesting. Something even you wouldn’t have expected from that dear husband of yours."
I glanced at the folder as I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ear. My hands twitched as I swiped my tongue over my dried lips.
I didn’t immediately reach for it, but slowly, as I steadied my hand. As my hand reached for the folder and opened it.
It carried a vanilla envelope. I wanted to ask him about it, but somehow I stopped. As my fingers lingered over it, the coldness seared something in me.
Taking the envelope, I glanced at him, "You don’t seem like a kind person who offered me help for free?"
His lips curved into a knowing smirk, "That is correct. Nothing in this world is for free."
He leaned back in his chair again as I composed my posture, gathering courage not to seem small and scared in front of him, "Let’s just say, I might need your help with something in the near future. Nothing illegal, of course, but it will require your... presence."
His words seemed like a web in which I was walking straight into his trap, completely knowing that it wouldn’t be as good as compared to my current situation.
I narrowed my eyes as I stared at him, "You mean you want my presence, which only attracts chaos and troubled people?"
He chuckled, which was unexpected, seeing his mafia aura. He shook his head as he replied, "Yeah, exactly that."
As he completed, there was a beat of silence between us. The kind of silence that carried unspoken tension.
Finally, I looked down at the envelope, which was still in my grip. The vanilla envelope had been sealed. It was surprisingly light, but the information it carried would be heavier than anything.
Matteo kept his gaze on me this whole time, watching my every action with such intensity that it made my skin prickle.
Yet I managed to ignore his presence, focusing on the envelope. I pulled off the seal with my nails when Matteo’s voice fell into my ears, "Careful, Elena."
This time, I looked up at him, and he had a serious expression that I could not ignore. I stayed silent when he completed, "Once you open that, there’s no going back to pretending you didn’t know."
I met his gaze with the same dead seriousness as the words came out of my mouth, "Good. I am already tired of pretending."
For a second, his expression softened. It was just a flicker, before it was gone the next second.
With that, I turned my attention back to the envelope resting in my hands.
My fingers trembled slightly, but not out of fear, but from the anticipation that something inside me was about to change everything.
The vanilla paper was smooth, sealed tightly. It looked harmless, almost ordinary, but deep down, I knew.
I knew the kind of truth that came from Matteo Romano would never be ordinary. It would be brutal, messy, and irreversible.
I slid a finger under the seal and tore it open carefully.
A faint rustling sound filled the air. The sound of something fragile breaking open.
Inside were a few neatly folded documents, a couple of photographs, and what looked like yellowed newspaper clippings.
The scent of old paper and ink filled the room.
I stared at the contents for a few seconds, unsure where to start. My instincts screamed at me to take a deep breath first, but I didn’t listen.
Instead, I reached in and pulled out the first folded sheet. It was a newspaper cutting that had been clipped with precision.
There was silence between Matteo and me. He did not say a word, just leaned back in his chair, his eyes watching me with that unreadable look.
I glanced at him once, and when he didn’t say anything, I asked, "What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?"
He tilted his chin slightly toward the clipping. "Start with the headline." That was all he said.
I frowned but looked down anyway. The old newspaper’s texture scratched faintly against my fingertips.
The text was slightly faded, but still readable. My eyes traced the bold letters, and within seconds, my breath got caught in my lungs.
"Son of the Morris Family Killed the Golden Girl of St. Helena’s School."
My heartbeat faltered for a second. The words didn’t register right away.
I blinked once. Twice.
Then again, my eyes were darting over the title, hoping it would somehow change or vanish.
But unfortunately, it didn’t.
The headline stayed the same, staring right back at me like a ghost that had been waiting too long to be seen.
My throat went dry. I felt a tightness in my chest as I slowly lowered the clipping to the desk and looked at Matteo. He did not say anything.
His silence only made it worse.
I swallowed, forcing my voice out, though it cracked, "Is this... is this a joke?"
He shook his head once, "No, Elena. It’s not."
I stared at him, eyes wide.
"That can’t be right. Dave...he...he was never involved in something like this. He wouldn’t..."
And before I could complete my sentence, Matteo cut in quietly, "You think you knew him well."
I froze.
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk, "You think you have seen all of him. The man you married, the one who smiled, the one who lied about losing his memory just to keep you close, but that’s the facade, Elena. You’ve only known the mask."
I wanted to argue, but my voice refused to move past my throat.
He nodded toward the clipping again, "Read it."
My eyes dropped back to the page. The ink was smeared in places, but the article was mostly intact.
The story spoke of a school tragedy. A girl was found dead in the old gymnasium, a fight that turned violent.
A student who had gone missing two days prior. Witnesses said it was "an accident." Others said it wasn’t.
And the name...the name that burned at the center of it all was David Morris.
The words swam in front of me as my pulse pounded against my temples.
No.
No, it couldn’t be true.