CHAPTER 52 : I DIDN'T BETRAY YOU
CHAPTER 52 : I DIDN'T BETRAY YOU
ENZO POV
“When are we getting married, Enzo?” she said.
Franco and I looked at her like she’d just spoken a language neither of us understood.
I kept my expression neutral, but inside I felt the usual chill I got whenever she tried to close the distance between us.
Franco, seated beside me, turned his head just slightly not enough to fully face her, but enough to watch with his sharp, calculating eyes.
I let out a soft breath. “Francesca, maybe we should slow things down a bit.”
Her smile faltered. “Slow down? We’re betrothed, Enzo. This was decided by our families. We’ve been engaged for over a year.”
“I know,” I said, my voice calm. “But you and I haven’t exactly been aligned lately. Things changed when you gave those house settings to your brother.”
Franco tilted his glass, watching her reaction through the corner of his eye.
Her face stiffened. “That again?”
“Yes,” I said. “That again. You didn’t just hand over renovation ideas. You handed over access.”
“They were just diagrams.”
“No,” I said sharply. “They were house settings—security protocols. Back door layouts. Panic room blueprints. Embedded passcodes. You handed over the map to infiltrate the house I’m supposed to build. You gave it to someone who’s already proven untrustworthy.”
She shifted uneasily. “Marco wouldn’t do anything with it.”
Franco finally spoke. “Marco wouldn’t need to do anything. All it takes is someone else getting their hands on it. That’s not something you give out over dinner and drinks.”
Francesca turned red, angry now. “I didn’t betray you.”
“You did,” I said calmly. “And I’m still trying to clean it up.”
She stood. “If you don’t want to marry me, just say it.”
“I want those settings back,” I said flatly.
She stormed out.
Franco didn’t look away. “So now what?”
When the door shut, Franco exhaled slowly. “She’s breaking down.”
“Good,” I muttered. “The more desperate she gets, the closer I get to getting them back.”
He studied me. “You really don’t feel anything for her?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. We were arranged. I never asked for her, never wanted her. But I want what’s mine. I can’t build that house with unknown vulnerabilities.”
Franco leaned back. “You’re not wrong. Anyone with those settings could get in, disable the system, even wipe surveillance.”
“And Marco has them. Which means anyone he owes money to could end up with them.”
Franco’s voice turned serious. “Then you better make her fall back in love with you fast. She won’t hand them over for nothing.”
Over the next few weeks, I did what I had to do.
I answered her calls with warmth. I sent her old photos. I even mentioned how I’d been looking over the land again, thinking about “our” home.
She responded fast texts, flowers, a handwritten letter. She thought we were healing.
What she didn’t know was that every word I said was carefully planned.
She invited me to dinner. I accepted. She smiled through the meal like we were finally back on track. She reached for my hand across the table.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For giving me another chance.”
I nodded. “It wasn’t easy.”
Her eyes shimmered. “I’m willing to make everything right.”
“Then there’s something I need you to do.”
That night, I told Franco everything.
“She said she’ll get the settings back,” I said. “But I want her to hand them over to me, directly.”
“You think she’ll do it?” he asked.
“If she thinks we’re getting married, yes.”
Franco looked skeptical. “And after you get them?”
“I end it. Officially.”
Franco gave a slow nod. “Just make sure you’re not playing with fire. Carlos isn’t the type to let something like this go quietly.”
“I’m counting on that.”
A week later, she showed up at my place with a small black envelope.
“I had to threaten him,” she said, voice shaking. Carlos didn’t want to give it back. He said he already printed copies.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were six printed pages with markings, passcode sequences, and escape hatch layouts. Biometric data registers. Keypad override codes.
Everything that should’ve never left my hands in the first place.
I looked up. “You’re sure no copies exist?”
She hesitated. “I made him swear—”
“I didn’t ask if he swore. I asked if he copied them.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I have these now. Isn’t that enough?”
I folded the pages. “It’s a start.”
Franco and I burned the documents the next day.
“Now we’re safe,” he said, watching the ashes drift up from the steel barrel in his backyard.
“No,” I said. “We’re not safe until I finish this.”
“You’re really going to cut her loose now?”
“She gave away something she was never supposed to see,” I said. “She only brought it back because I lied. That isn’t loyalty. That’s fear.”
Franco gave a grim smile. “So what’s the plan?”
“She thinks we’re announcing the wedding soon. I’ll take her to dinner. In public. Make it look mutual. No screaming. Just a clean break.”
“And if she doesn’t accept it?”
I paused. “Then we have a different problem.”
The night came.
We were seated at a rooftop restaurant. The city stretched behind her in lights and noise. Her hands were soft in mine, her eyes filled with hope.
I pulled back slowly.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said.
She smiled. “About us?”
“About me,” I corrected. “And how I’ve changed.”
Her smile faltered.
“I wanted this to work,” I lied. “But what you did... giving those settings to Marco... it broke something I can’t repair.”
“I gave them back—”
“You gave them after the damage was done.”
Her voice trembled. “But we were supposed to rebuild—”
“No,” I said. “We were supposed to protect. That was your job.”
A long pause.
She drew in a shaky breath. “So that’s it?”
“I wish you well, Francesca. But I won’t marry someone I have to watch in every room.”
She stared at me, stunned.
Then, quietly, she stood and left.
Franco called that night. “Done?”
“Done.”
“She won’t let it rest, you know.”
“I know.”
“What if carlos still has something?”
“Then we finish this another way.”