My Fiancé Swapped Places With His Twin At The Altar Chapter 10
That night, I slept deeply, lulled by the sound of kittens mewing.
When I woke up, I stood by the window for a long time.
I didn’t turn away until the butler knocked to announce that breakfast was ready.
The dining room was large, but it didn’t feel empty.
Flowers sat in the center of the long table, and in the corner, a silver-gray cat was stretched out, its tail lazily brushing the leg of a chair.
Halfway through breakfast, Alessio’s phone rang.
He answered, then handed it to me.
I froze for a second.
Matteo’s voice came through the receiver, fast and urgent, as if he was afraid I would hang up.
“Bianca, are you regretting it now?”
“The Moretti family’s European branch has been bleeding money for years. My brother was sent there to clean up a disaster.”
“What kind of life do you think you can have with him?”
“You’ve never suffered a day in your life. Do you really think you can handle it?”
I lowered my eyes, looking at the fine porcelain plate in front of me, then out at the garden beyond the window, at the cats chasing each other across the lawn. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to laugh.
“Bianca, if you say the word, I’ll bring you back.”
He paused, his voice softening.
“How are your hands? Was the coffee burn bad?”
The concern came too late.
So late that I couldn’t feel any warmth in it.
I said flatly, “Matteo, if you’re sick, go see a doctor.”
Silence fell on the other end of the line.
It was as if I had stabbed him somewhere tender. When he spoke again, his voice had gone cold.
“Do you have to talk to me like this?”
“I’m giving you a chance because of our history.”
I set down my fork.
“I don’t need it.”
His breathing grew heavier.
“Tomorrow, I’m going with my father to meet with Ryson Group about a partnership.”
“After it’s over, I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Bianca, this is the last chance I’m giving you. If you show up, I’ll pretend the last few days never happened.”
When I heard the name Ryson Group, I paused.
Ten minutes earlier, Alessio’s assistant had been standing on the other side of the dining room, informing him that one of Ryson’s European energy projects required him to confirm the final list of partners that afternoon.
I looked up at Alessio.
He was perfectly calm, as if he had expected the Moretti family to come calling.
On the other end of the phone, Matteo was still talking.
“Stop pretending to be strong. You can’t leave me, Bianca.”
The next second, the line went dead.