In the heart of a modern city, two rival families hold the power. Valentina, a fiercely loyal daughter, and Matteo, a cunning and determined son, find themselves on opposite sides of a dangerous feud. But when their paths unexpectedly intertwine, th...
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Camilla's words hit like a truck. A junkie?Matteo? It didn't make any sense—none of it fit with the Matteo I knew, or thought I knew.
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything beyond the sound of blood rushing through my ears. Camilla had to be lying.
There was no way it could be true.
But when I turned to Matteo, everything stopped.
His face said it all. He didn't even need to answer. The guilt, the shame—it was written all over him. His eyes didn't meet mine, and that's when I knew.
My whole world shook. The guy who had held me, comforted me, made me feel safe... was a druggie? I didn't know what to think.
My thoughts were crashing into each other, nothing making sense.
"Matteo," I whispered, my voice barely there. "Is it true?"
I didn't even need him to respond. The look on his face was enough. The silence stretched between us, louder than anything he could have said.
My chest tightened painfully, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as I fought to keep myself together.
I wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers. But all I could do was stare at him, waiting for something, anything, that would make this feel less like the ground had just been pulled out from under me.
"Matteo... are you a junkie?" The words felt heavy as they left my mouth, and I wished I could take them back the second they were out.
His head snapped toward me, his jaw tight, eyes narrowing in anger.
"I'm not a fucking junkie, Valentina." His voice cut through me like a knife.
I flinched, stepping back slightly, but I didn't drop it. "But Camilla—"
"Camilla doesn't know a damn thing," he snapped, his voice rising. "What, you think I'm some kind of pathetic addict? That I'm fucking weak? You have no idea what it's like."
He paused, his eyes burning with frustration. "I'm not you, Valentina. I'm not some fucking princess waiting around for someone to come wipe my tears away when things get rough."
The words hit me like a slap in the face. I could feel my chest tighten, the sting of his words slicing deep. "I never—" I started, but he kept going, his voice laced with venom.
"I don't have the luxury of sitting around, waiting for someone to swoop in and fix my problems. You, with your perfect little world—everyone rushing to take care of you when you're upset. I can't do that. I can't wait for someone to save me."
His words made my heart sink, but I wasn't going to let him turn this around on me.
The hurt turned to anger, and before I could stop myself, I snapped, "Well, at least I don't snort shit to deal with my problems."
