Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"The Search Begins"

Matteo's POV

The morning sun pouring through the huge windows of my office should have felt nice, but instead, it was like a spotlight, highlighting every crack in my perfect facade. I stood there, staring out at the Chicago skyline, my shoulders tight and my jaw locked. The city buzzed with energy, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

"Did you get any updates on Gianna?" I snapped, not even bothering to look back. The words left a sour taste in my mouth.

I could hear Frank fidgeting behind me. Poor guy—he sounded like he was about to burst into a sweat. Normally, I might have felt a bit guilty for making him so anxious, but these were far from normal times.

"Uh... I’m really sorry, Mr. Morgan. There’s been no news," Frank replied, his voice shaky.

I spun around, shooting him a look that made him shrink back. "What do you mean, no news?" My voice was low and menacing, the kind that makes people instinctively back off.

Frank swallowed hard, his throat moving in a way that was almost funny. On any other day, I might have chuckled at it. But today? It just added to my frustration.

"After she walked out that night, she just... disappeared, sir," he said, his words spilling out in a hurry. "The nursing home where she worked has no record of her. I went to Worcester, her so-called hometown, but the address she gave me? Totally made up. The Dan family? They’re a total myth."

Made up. That word bounced around in my mind, each time fueling my anger. Who the hell did I marry? A ghost? A figment of my imagination? No, even worse—a liar. A spy, perhaps?

The idea made my blood boil. I’d been played, hadn’t I? Me, Matteo Morgan, the guy who always thought he was three steps ahead. I’d been led around like some lovesick fool.

"She took off with Nathaniel Taylor," Ian added cautiously as if he thought I might blow up.

Nathaniel. That jerk. The image of him and Gianna together hit me like a punch, and I felt my fists clench. How could he? How could she?

Frank must have noticed the fury on my face because he quickly tried to soften the blow. "Well, it’s not really stealing, more like taking over the relay."

I shot him a glare that could have turned steel to liquid. He immediately clammed up, retreating as if he wanted to blend into the wallpaper. Smart move.

My thoughts were racing, replaying that night over and over in my head. Gianna's frantic cries, the tears streaming down her face—was it all just a performance? Every caress, every kiss, every soft "I love you"—were they all just fabrications?

The realization hit me hard, like a punch to the gut.

I leaned back in my chair, sipping on the herbal tea my mother insisted would help soothe my nerves. It didn’t. My mind kept drifting to Matteo, the chaos I’d left behind, and the stranaprge emptiness I felt in its wake. I knew he’d be looking for me—probably tearing apart the city, but he’d never find me here. Not in the place where I truly belonged.

My billionaire parents were fussing over me like they always did, but I was barely paying attention. The only thing I could think about was the life I’d left behind. Was Matteo regretting it? Did he even care, or was I just another passing shadow in his complicated world?

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.