chapter 9

Matteo's POV

I stood near the entrance of the Grand Ballroom, checking my watch for the hundredth time.

"Matteo," my father approached, his face concerned. "Where's Sloane? People are starting to ask questions."

"She's probably just running late," I said.

That's when I saw Tony rushing through the crowd toward me. His usually composed face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the air conditioning.

"Boss," he panted, reaching me. "I went to the Rossini house like you asked."

"And? Is Sloane on her way?"

Tony's face went pale. "She... she's not there, sir. But the housekeeper, she gave me something." 

He fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out a envelope. His hands were shaking.

"What is it?" I grabbed the envelope, open it.

"It's..." Tony swallowed hard. "It's a divorce agreement, boss. With both your signatures. And it's been notarized."

The words hit me. *Divorce agreement?* I stared at the papers in my hands, seeing my own signature at the bottom. My signature, clear as day, right next to Sloane's careful cursive.

*No. No, this can't be right.*

Then it hit me. That night a few days ago, when Sloane had given me those company documents to sign. I'd been in such a hurry to see Calista, I'd barely glanced at them.

"The papers," I whispered, "Those fucking papers."

*She tricked me. My own wife tricked me into signing my own divorce.*

"This is impossible," I said louder, crumpling the documents. "We love each other. We're perfect together. Everyone knows that."

But even as I said it, I realized how the past few days suddenly made sense. Sloane's distance. Her staying at her parents' house.

Before I could process this fully, the massive doors to the ballroom swung open. The conversations died down as every head turned toward the entrance.

Riccardo Rossini walked in. Sloane's father.

He moved through the crowd with that commanding presence that made grown men step aside. He wasn't dressed for a celebration, his suit looked more appropriate for a funeral. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on me with undisguised contempt.

*Why is he looking at me like that?*

Riccardo walked straight to the small stage where the string quartet had been playing. He gestured for them to stop, then picked up the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed through the sound system. "Thank you for coming tonight. I have an important announcement to make."

My heart started pounding. *This isn't part of the program. What the hell is happening?*

"My daughter Sloane and Matteo Santangelo have been legally divorced," Riccardo's voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "The marriage alliance between the Rossini and Santangelo families is hereby terminated."

The room exploded. Gasps, shocked exclamations, the sound of someone dropping a champagne glass. I felt like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.

*No. No, no, no. This isn't happening.*

I pushed through the crowd, shoving people aside until I reached the stage. I grabbed Riccardo's arm as he stepped down from the microphone.

"What the fuck is going on?" I demanded. "Where is Sloane? We love each other! We're supposed to be celebrating our anniversary!"

Riccardo looked at me with icy calm. "Love each other?" He yanked his arm free from my grip. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!" I was shouting now, not caring that everyone was watching. "I love your daughter more than anything in this world!"

"Really?" Riccardo's smile was cold. "Well, I think everyone here deserves to know what kind of love you're talking about."

He nodded toward someone in the crowd. Suddenly, the massive screens that had been displaying our wedding photos flickered to life.

But it wasn't our wedding photos anymore.

The first image that filled the screens made my blood freeze. It was me. In our bedroom. With Calista underneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist.