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I sat on the terrace, the late afternoon sun casting golden hues over the Sicilian countryside. Rolling hills stretched endlessly before me, dotted with olive groves and vineyards, their quiet beauty at odds with the storm
yas she raging in my heart. The scent of fresh herbs drifted from the kitchen where my mother hummed softly a prepared dinner.
Mama hadn’t asked for details when she arrived after she learned what happened to Matteo. Tears streaked my face that day, and she didn’t press me to say anything. Instead, she wrapped me in the kind of embrace that spoke of deep understanding.
She let me grieve in silence. She let me mourn my heart’s death.
The terrace overlooked the vineyard Matteo had gifted me–a dream of ours that now felt hollow. My gaze wandered over the rows of vines as memories of Matteo flooded my mind. His laughter echoed faintly in the back of my thoughts, but the weight of his absence crushed any solace they might bring. I sobbed openly, the Sicilian sun doing nothing to warm the void left by his death.
“Sometimes, Aletta, letting go doesn’t mean forgetting.” my mother said one evening as she poured tea. Her voice was gentle yet firm, the tone she used when offering hard–won wisdom “Your father and I divorced, but I never let the good memories fade. He may not have been the man I hoped for in the end, but looking at you… you’re a reminder of the love we once shared ”
Her words lingered long after she left the room. I wasn’t ready to face them yet. Matteo wasn’t just a memory. He had been my anchor, my guiding star. Without him, the world felt aimless, adrift.
And I can’t let go of Matteo… And how could I when he didn’t let me feel even once to hate him?
In Milan, chaos reigned.
Matteo’s death had shattered the Emperio. Allies questioned loyalties, enemies circled like vultures, and Stefania’s forces were emboldened Lorenzo, who had stayed behind to handle the fallout, called periodically to keep me updated. His exhaustion bled through every word.
“I’m holding the line,” he said one evening, his voice taut. “But it’s barely holding. Matteo wasn’t just a leader, he was their symbol. Without him, everything’s cracking apart.”
Lorenzo spoke plainly, a reflection of his pragmatism. I could hear his frustration, but also his determination. There was no trace of him being so self–centered and always sugar–coating for his expense. He truly changed.
“How bad is it?” I asked, bracing myself.
“It’s worse than I thought it would be,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Stefania’s network is exploiting the fractures. She’s whispering in ears, twisting people to her side. I’ve had to burn bridges I hoped would hold.”
“You’re doing everything you can,” I said softly, knowing it wasn’t enough to ease his guilt.
“I promised Matteo I’d protect you, for you to protect the Emperio,” Lorenzo said after a pause. “But I also promised you that I would save him–but, I think I ain’t good at promising. Aletta… I can’t do this alone fighting your right in Emperio as Matteo wanted to. You need to show them why Matteo chose you.”
I closed my eyes, his words digging into wounds I was trying to ignore. “I wasn’t as strong as Matteo thought
Lorenzo.”
“Strength is always in you, Aletta. Believe me.” There was an edge to his voice now. “And I’m worrying because the Emperio’s board is starting to talk about choosing a new emperor. Stefania’s lover–Ricci–is at the top of the
list
“Ricci?” I nearly s spat the name. “They’re considering that vulture to replace Matteo? How can they be so blind? They kill Matteo!”
*Emperio needs leadership,” Lorenzo said, his voice tired but resigned. “The board won’t wait forever. Ricci isn’t
The
cond Chance for A Madan Funway Bride
ideal, but he’s… the one they consider as solid as Matteo. Unless someone else steps up. Unless you appear.”
I knew what he was implying. “You’re not seriously suggesting me.”
“Why not?” he challenged. “You’re Matteo’s wife. The Santoro name still carries weight.”
That stunned me. So he knows? He already knows that Matteo and I married secretly
“Matteo carried that weight, not me,” I replied bitterly. “I’m not like him. I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lorenzo said firmly. “Matteo saw something in you. So do I. And everyone in Emperio
will do, too.”
His words hung in the air, but I couldn’t respond.
As weeks went by, the vineyard became my refuge. The work there was a distraction from my grief. I buried myself in logistics, piecing together plans for the business Matteo left me. Matteo had always believed in building something lasting. If I couldn’t bring him back, at least I could honor his vision by making this vineyard of ours operating progressively.
But the nights were unbearable. Dreams of his touch, his voice, and his smile haunted me. Waking up felt cruel, the emptiness beside me a stark reminder of what I’d lost.
I poured everything I had as I could, hoping it would be enough to drown out the ache. My mother, ever practical, kept me grounded.
“You’ve always had fire in you, Aletta,” she said one morning as we walked the vineyard together. “That’s why Matteo fell in love with you, right? Don’t let that fire go out.”
Her words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the ache. Matteo had loved my fire, but it was his warmth that had kept it alive. Without him, I felt like embers struggling to stay lit.
The days blurred into weeks, and I tried to lose myself in work. Lorenzo’s updates came less frequently, his focus shifting to being part of the board of Emperio and rebuilding his fractured mafia. He seemed to be finding his footing, the chaos a challenge he was determined to conquer
“I’ve got this, Aletta,” he said during one of his last calls. “You focus on yourself. Matteo would want that” “Thank you, Lorenzo,” I whispered. “For everything.
His voice softened. “Always, Aletta. Always.
As I hung up, I stared out over the vineyard, Matteo’s memory a constant presence. I knew the world expected me to move on, to find strength in the wake of my loss. But I wasn’t ready to let him go.
Not yet.
Not ever.
Another week passed before Lorenzo called again, his voice cautious. “There’s something you should know,” he
began.
“What now?” I asked, wary of bad news.
“There’s a rumor,” he said. “Someone resembling Matteo was spotted near one of Emperio’s operations. It’s
unconfirmed, but…”
I cut him off, my voice sharp. “Don’t, Lorenzo! Don’t give me hope where there is none!”
“I thought you’d want to know,” he replied defensively. “That’s the reason the Emperio’s board stopped their election for their new emperor. They are hopeful.”
“Well, I’m not!” I snapped. “I can’t… I can’t go through this again. Please don’t let me hope for nothing. Please
don’t lie…