Matteo sat in his study, staring at the old photo tucked in his drawer. You, the kids, and the man he used to be. A tiny crack ran through the corner of the frame, but the image was whole enough to remind him of one thing.

You used to be his.

Now? He was married to a woman chosen by his family. Beautiful, well-mannered, the perfect face for the press. But inside, it was all noise and nothingness.

At night, when the house was quiet and his wife was locked in her own world, his thoughts drifted back to you. To the laughter of the children. To the way you used to look at him, not with fear, not with bitterness, but warmth, even when it hurt.

And then, he saw you at the park, with Sebastian.

You were smiling. Laughing. Holding hands.

His jaw clenched as he watched from afar. The fire in his chest wasn’t love, it was possession.

He left you, yes. But that didn’t mean you were free. That didn’t mean you had the right to move on, to act like he never existed, especially not with his own brother.

“I was a fool,” he muttered. But not because he lost you. Because he thought you’d be waiting. Alone. Shattered.

A dark smirk tugged at his lips.

“You think I’ll let this slide”

He rose from his chair, quiet and calm. Matteo had a wife now. A life built on power and image. But that didn’t matter.

Because you were still part of his past. And he doesn’t share what once belonged to him.