The Sweetest Temptation
Chapter 292: Dead

Chapter 292: Dead

Matteo tossed and turned relentlessly in his bed, tormented by his thoughts. Should he have called Stella after she left the office? He had yearned to, to confess his true feelings, but he restrained himself, understanding the weight of her recent struggles. Yet an unease clawed at him, refusing to grant him any semblance of sleep.

In the quietude of the night, his internal battle reached its peak. Succumbing to the persistent restlessness, he decided on a midnight drive. Maybe just checking on her, ensuring she was safe and sound.

At the time, it was twelve-forty.

En route to her apartment, he dialed her number, hoping to gain some solace in her voice. But the call went unanswered, nudging him with a faint pang of concern. Perhaps she was asleep, he reasoned, almost turning his car around. Yet, a distant, flickering glow caught his attention - flashing blue and red against the night’s canvas. An ambulance and police lights adorned the vicinity of Stella’s apartment building.

Fear gripped him, a cold sweat forming as he accelerated towards the scene. Heart pounding, he abandoned his car and rushed to the building, his eyes fixated on the stretcher emerging from the entrance. A desperate prayer echoed in his mind...

Please, not Stella... please, not Stella...

His silent prayers crumbled to dust as his eyes fell upon her lifeless form, a pocket knife embedded in her stomach. Grief and regret flooded him as he noticed that she was still wearing the same clothes she had left the office in. The realization hit him like a heavy blow—this had happened nearly two hours ago, during his fitful moments of restlessness.

A shrill ring in his ears drowned out the murmurs of the onlookers. Ignoring the attempts of the medical staff to restrain him, he surged forward towards the stretcher bearing Stella’s covered body.

"Take that damn thing off her!" His voice cracked with anguish, the raw pain of the moment searing through his words. Despite his desperate demands, they continued to drape the cloth over her, obscuring her face. He fought against their grip, breaking free and reaching for her, his trembling hands tracing her lifeless features.

"You’re not dead, you can’t be dead," he repeated, almost as if chanting a prayer.

"Someone do something! She can’t be gone..."

His anguished cries fell silent as three police officers approached him, a stern warning in their eyes.

"Sir, please step back. This is a crime scene," one of them said calmly, though his stance hinted at a readiness to intervene.

Avoiding a confrontation, he paced back and forth, his heart racing as he watched the stretcher being loaded into the waiting ambulance. As it started to pull away, he sprang into action, racing back to his car and accelerating to keep pace with the ambulance.

Stella’s not dead... she’s not dead... she’s not dead...

Matteo’s restlessness was palpable as he paced the waiting room, his gaze darting anxiously towards the doors that led to the operation room. Impatience clawed at him mercilessly, each passing second feeling like an eternity.

He had taken the initiative to dial Remo’s number and recount the harrowing incident. Remo, baffled by such an unfortunate event befalling someone as reclusive as Stella, had pressed for details about the events leading up to it. Matteo had set a condition – Remo’s presence at the hospital - before releasing any information. He couldn’t bear to leave Stella, who was currently undergoing surgery.

Frustration boiled within him when Remo’s response seemed lackadaisical. Without waiting for an answer to his invitation, he abruptly ended the call, and a sudden realization crashed down on him—he was likely the only one Stella truly had. And his inaction had led her right into the arms of danger, a fate that could have been averted had he only taken responsibility sooner.

He let his gaze linger, once again, at the door that led to the operation room, his heart heavy with regret.

This is all my fault!

For months, since her arrival, he had convinced himself that he had no need for anything that included indebtedness in his life. There was no need for someone that would cause him sleepless nights simply because he could not give his trust so easily.

He had convinced himself that he could never again be swayed by the display of selective kindness from a woman because they were all cunning. Up until the last moment, where he had spoken with Stella, he had maintained this thought, even going as far as accusing her of being a traitor—when she was only confused.

And now, here he was, at the verge of losing everything he thought he never needed, simply because of his fear to admit his feelings. He chuckled lightly as a word echoed endlessly in his mind.

Coward! Coward!! Coward!!!

He slammed his fist into a nearby wall, startling the front desk nurse and the other patients-in-waiting in the room.

"Sir, excuse me sir," a nurse called out, trotting towards him, wearing a panicked expression. With a wave of his hand, he told her off, signaling that he would be okay.

"Sir, you’re bleeding!" The woman suddenly exclaimed, rushing toward him and reaching toward his injured fist. In a sudden reflex, he yanked his arm away from her reach, glaring daggers with eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I said, it’s fine. Now, leave!" The words singed through his teeth with forced restraint. The woman flinched slightly, taking cue from the strain in his features, as if he was at the verge of committing murder.

"Matteo!" A familiar voice called out from afar, alerting him to the presence of his brother Remo, dressed impeccably in a well-tailored and embroidered suit. It was clear from his outfit that he had called him from his workspace—the club.

The Remo he was accustomed to would’ve sat out his call, irrespective of what the reason was. Being a mafia kingpin, he was known as a merciless psychopath who had no care for anyone else but himself. Coming at the mention of Stella, a woman whom he was not well acquainted with but still knew, at the hospital, was not a good sign.

But right now, he couldn’t care less about what his reason was for answering his call.

"Forgive me for taking such a long time. How is—"