Chapter 158 The Architect of Ghosts

Chapter 158 The Architect of Ghosts
MATEO’S POV

Fucking shit! 

How?

I wanted Jake to turn the car around. I wanted to go back to that café and tear Nathan Hartley apart with my bare hands. But I couldn't. Not while Isabella was shaking like a leaf, her hand pressed white-knuckled against her stomach.

The ride back was a blur of high-speed turns and oppressive silence. When we reached the estate, I didn't wait for Jake. I scooped Isabella out of the car, ignoring her weak protests. She felt lighter than air, as if the truth had hollowed her out from the inside. I carried her to our room and stayed there for hours, stroking her hair and tracing the line of her temple until her breathing finally leveled out into the heavy, fitful sleep of the exhausted.

I stood up, I could hear my heartbeat in the quiet room. Jake was standing by the door, his shadow long and grim.

"Stay here," I whispered, my voice sounding like a rusted blade. "Any noise, any movement—I don't care what she says, you make sure she doesn't harm herself. Understand?"

Jake gave a sharp, somber nod. "May I ask where you're going, sir?"

"To see an old friend." I said.

Jake just nodded .


The Mayfair Hotel was quiet, the lobby smelling of expensive lilies and old money. I didn't stop at the desk. Being a Rossi meant doors opened because people were too afraid to keep them shut. I took the spare key card the manager handed me with trembling fingers and headed for the penthouse I was funding.

I didn't turn on the lights. I sat in the high-backed velvet chair in the corner, shrouded in the shadows, and waited. Ten or fifteen minutes later, the electronic lock beeped.

Laughter spilled into the room—high, jagged, and chemically fueled. The lights flickered on, and I squinted against the glare. Nathan stumbled in, tie undone and face flushed, followed by Valentina. She was giggling, her makeup smeared and eyes glassy. They were high, riding the wave of the chaos they’d just unleashed on my woman.

The laughter died in their throats the moment they saw me.

I rose from the chair like a specter. Nathan recovered first, leaning against the doorframe with a sickening, smug smirk. "You're here, Rossi? I thought you’d be halfway to a therapist by now, or busy dealing with the 'disgrace' I finally handed off to you."

Valentina shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic as she tossed her clutch on the table. "She was always a burden, Mateo. You should thank us for being honest for once. It’s not our fault she can’t handle the truth."

I moved. It was a blur of motion that ended with my hand moving like a snake, gripping the front of Nathan’s jacket and slamming him back against the wall. The sound of his skull hitting the wood was a dull thud that finally wiped the smirk off his face.

"Start talking," I hissed, my face inches from his. "The truth. All of it. Tell me you are lying! Now!!"

Nathan’s eyes flared with a sudden, ugly bitterness. "I was seventeen, Rossi! Seventeen! I didn't ask for a child. My family forced my hand. They wouldn't let me put her in a home, so I had to quit college and work jobs I hated to pay for a life I never wanted. You have her now? I had hope. I could have gone to oxford! Harvard and be something. You know I do well in school and I had to quit for an ungrateful little shit!."

Really? So this was all sick hate towards a baby he wasn't allowed to get rid of?

He let out a shaky, pathetic laugh. "And here’s the best part: the New York birth certificate Isabella has? It’s a fake. A high-end forge my father paid for in 1999 to get us through immigration. If she ever gets flagged, she has no legal standing. She’s a ghost. She’s not even a citizen of the country she’s lived in for twenty-five years. You want her? Take her. She’s your problem now."

That doesn't make sense. He could be young but he wasn't forced into Valentina.

A cold, sharp clarity settled in my gut. My girl was legally stranded because of this hollow man.

I wanted to bash his head until I saw the light go out of his eyes. I wanted to have him locked and forgotten but he was still Isabella's father. The man that made her a ghost. 

I turned my gaze to Valentina. I stepped into her space, the floorboards groaning under my weight.

"And you. Someone is going to come pick you up for the DNA. I have to make sure you are not lying. " A small pause " The syringe. The alley? Tell me before I make your life so unbearable you’ll beg for a prison cell."

I heard enough from the bug but I need to know if they really tried to kill a baby.

Valentina tried to sneer, but her lower lip quivered. The drugs couldn't mask her fear anymore. "I was scared! I hated her for being inside me. I gave her... what people were taking for their nerves. I just wanted her to be quiet. Forever." She started to cry, an ugly, desperate sound. "My parents... they have the real British birth certificate and the hospital records from when Nathan’s aunt saved her. They kept them to hold over Nathan’s head."

I nodded slowly, a dark smirk pulling at my lips. "Is that so? I think I’ll pay your parents a visit. I’ll make sure to tell them exactly what a disappointment you still are. Maybe I’ll let them know how you spent your night while your son was in a courtroom."

"No!" she shrieked, lunging to grab my sleeve. "Please! Let me just have this one thing—this is all I have left now that you have Lucian! "

I looked down at her hand on my silk suit like it was a cockroach and brushed her off. "No way in hell."

I looked at Nathan, who was trying to disappear into the wallpaper.

"You're a real piece of work, Nathan," I said, my voice dripping with contempt. "You’re here fooling around with the woman who tried to kill your daughter, while your wife back in New York is due to give birth by the end of this month. Another child to resent, I assume?"

Valentina’s head snapped toward Nathan. Her jaw dropped, her glassy eyes wide with shock. "Wife? A baby?"

Oh...so she had no idea.

So they just met at my place and decided to catch up?

How come I didn't put two and two together by the way they were staring at each other.

How come they just click again for evil and petty revenge? Well, I have to get petty too.

I laughed, and the sound was hollow and cruel. "Well, Valentina, seems nobody wants you either."

I didn't wait for the screaming to start. I turned on my heel and walked out, the sound of Valentina’s first hysterical sob echoing behind me. Then Nathan trying to lie about not loving his current wife.

I got into the car, my heart hammering with a new, frantic purpose. Isabella wasn't a Hartley. She wasn't a ghost. I’d buy the judges, I’d buy the borders, and I’d burn the Hartley name to ash to build her a throne from the remains.

She was mine. She was a Rossi. Or Cortez. Or whoever.