The room was quiet except for the soft sound of sheets moving as Matteo turned in bed. Celia sat beside him, quietly drumming her fingers on the edge of the mattress. The tension in the air was nearly too much to take.

Matteo's breathing was short and strained, but his eyes were still wide open and fixated on her with a kind of intensity that made her skin crawl. His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, "You think I'm the bad guy." "But you're not the hero either."

Celia's breath caught in her throat. She didn't think he would say that. She hadn't thought he would admit it, the reality that had been eating at her since she first set foot in his house. She had come here to kill him, but at some point, things got confused. The rules were different.

"I'm not here for you," she muttered, and the words came out before she could stop them. She didn't look away even if her admission made her eyes burn. "I came here for Adrian." For the man you let die.

Matteo's eyes blinked, and a hint of regret crossed his features. His hand moved beside him, a pathetic attempt to reach out, but his body was too weak.

"I didn't order his death," he said in a murmur that was barely a breath. "But I tried to stop it." I did.

Celia's heart raced, quicker than it had in a long time. "Why should I believe you?" she questioned, her voice shaking with doubt.

He stared at her for a long time, and the truth hung between them like an electric charge.

Matteo said in a hoarse voice, "I don't know." "But if you want to know the truth, you'll have to choose whether or not to believe me."

Celia's lips parted, and her eyes were locked on him. She was torn between wanting revenge and the heavy weight of what he had just uttered.

The blade. Her gun. She made the choice. It was right before her, staring back at her with black eyes.

"I don't know if I believe you," she said quietly, the words barely making it out of her mouth. But they were enough—a lot to change everything.

Celia's heart raced as Matteo's words hung like a challenge. She tried to push him to accept what she already knew deep inside. But this... this was different. His tone was chilly and indifferent, and she couldn't get through it.

Matteo responded in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, "Then kill me and find out nothing." It was as if her existence was no more important than the flat hum of the estate surrounding them. He turned quickly, and his black suit stood against the faint light. Each stride he took was planned, as if he knew where every shadow in the room would fall.

Celia stopped momentarily; his words felt like frost on her skin. She wasn't finished. Not yet. She wasn't ready to quit. Not while the truth was still just out of her reach.

She stepped forward, then another, and her heels clicking against the silence was like a countdown. "I'm not done with you," she responded, her voice full of anger.

Matteo did not turn around or glance back. He walked with purpose, slowly, and with

confidence. It was too much for her to handle that he was there and didn't care. He got to the crypt door, and Celia's gaze narrowed.

"I'm not leaving until I get answers," she said between clenched teeth, following him without waiting for him to speak.

The entrance of the crypt creaked open, making the old hinges groan. The air inside was frigid and smelled like stone and dust. Without saying a word, Matteo stepped inside, and the shadows swallowed him up. Celia followed him, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could feel the weight of her choice, which had led her to this point. She could still go back and leave him to his illness, letting him die in peace. But the truth was too close, and the fire inside her wouldn't go out. She followed him into the gloomy crypt.

The crypt was enormous, and the air was heavy with the past. Cold stone walls surrounded them, and the silence was only broken by their footfall on the old ground. Celia looked around the room. The stone slabs, the carved symbols, and everything else appeared to be meant to remind her of how final death is.

Matteo then halted in front of an open tomb.

Celia's breath hitched when she recognised what she was staring at. The coffin was dark and untouched in the middle of the room, with its lid half-raised. It seemed perfect, like it was waiting for someone to fill it.

Matteo answered in a flat, lifeless voice, "I had it built after Adrian died." He didn't look at her while he talked; his eyes were downcast, and he seemed lost in sadness.

Celia's heart raced. "You had it made? For you?

He nodded and ran his fingertips along the edge of the stone. His voice was harsh. "It was supposed to be a calm location for me to die, far away from everything. But now I don't know what to do next.

Celia's chest felt tight. She moved closer and stared at the casket, but it wasn't the tomb that pulled her in. It was Matteo's words, his confession. She had never seen him so weak before, and she had never thought he could feel so lost and shattered.

And then she noticed it.

A sculpture on the tomb's side. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the words carved into the stone: her name next to his.

She couldn't breathe. She stepped back and put her hand over her mouth to stop the gasp. "What is this?" she yelled, her voice unsteady yet strong.

For the first time, Matteo's eyes weren't frigid as they met hers. There was something there, something real.

He muttered, "It was never meant to be this way." "But you and I were always destined to meet like this. This is what I'll leave behind for you.

Her heart raced. She moved closer, but the words didn't make sense. Her name. What happened to Adrian? And there was Matteo, a ghost of the guy he used to be.

Her heart raced in her chest. There was no way to go back now.

Celia ran out of the crypt, her head spinning. The crypt had kept its secrets, but it had also given her something else she wasn't ready to deal with. She could feel the weight of it all on her chest as she walked up the stairs, and her hands shook with the importance of her ideas.

The library was deserted now, and the fireplace's warm light flickered. She sat at the desk with the large encrypted drive in her palm. Matteo had made sure it was safe. He made sure that nothing was simple.

But Celia wasn't scared of hard work. She had been through worse.

She put the drive into the reader and started to decrypt it by quickly moving her fingers over the keys. The screen flashed with lines of code, and as each layer peeled away, names, dates, and events came to light. The things Matteo wished to hide. Things he didn't want her to find out.

She paused for a bit before clicking on the last file. When she saw the name, she couldn't breathe.

"Adrian Costa, Rinaldi Execution Order."

The words stuck in her thoughts. The whole of her body got frigid.

Celia's hands were shaking, but she kept going. She scrolled down and read the names, dates, signatures, and other details, confirming her worst fears. There was someone else's signature here, but not Matteo's. Someone far more dangerous.

Moretti Salvatore.

Her uncle.

As the parts fell into place, her stomach turned. She had realised it was too complicated and too messy. But this was a betrayal on a level she couldn't even begin to understand.

She reached for the glass of wine beside her and took a sip, her hand still shaking. But it didn't work. Nothing would.

Celia sat there with the file, heavier than anything else she had ever carried. And then, with shaking hands, she clicked the last log.

There was no turning back now.

Celia's hands shook as the drive slipped between her fingers. The encrypted file was still open on the screen, but it didn't feel like the key to her revenge anymore. Instead, it felt like a bomb that was about to go off. Her mind was racing, and it was hard to shake off the heaviness of the words she had just found.

The air in the room was too thick and heavy, and as she forced herself to stand, she heard the faint sound of footfall coming from the dark hallway. For a minute, her heart missed a beat, and her pulse raced in her ears.

She turned slowly, and fear sank into her chest like lead. Matteo stood in the doorway, taking up the whole area. There was a deep shadow behind him from the hallway light, but his piercing, calculating gaze kept her in place.

He looked at her with such intensity that it made her skin crawl, as if he could see through her and rip away the layers she had so carefully erected. He never looked away as he took a step closer to them.

Matteo replied, "You've been busy," his voice mild, almost amused, yet there was a biting edge, as if something terrible was hiding behind the calm surface.

Celia didn't say anything. She wasn't able to. As he walked further into the room, she couldn't breathe since he was so strong.

She couldn't move because the truth she had just learned was so heavy. She thought she was in charge and that she was the one making things happen. But now that she was looking at Matteo, she wasn't so sure.

The stillness between them was dense and heavy until Matteo finally spoke.

He said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, "That file is a lie," yet every word seemed like a threat. "And I can show you."

The words hit her like a slap, and her body automatically stepped back, but her mind was too far gone to understand what he meant. She couldn't think. She couldn't get any air. Not with the truth about Adrian hanging in the air like a guillotine, ready to drop.

Matteo didn't wait for her to answer. He didn't say anything; instead, he turned and walked away. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the still room. Celia stood there, her hands still shaking and her heart racing with terror and uncertainty.

She followed him because she felt the same pull that had brought her here. She had to find out. She needed to see it for herself.

And thus, with each step she made toward the crypt under the estate, the weight of her choice got heavier. The rules of the game were shifting. And now there was no turning back.