Chapter 3 - The Twenty Percent
Matteo Rossi had lost shipments worth millions without raising his voice.
He had survived federal raids, internal betrayals, and two attempts on his life.
But the sight of his wife’s empty side of their bedroom nearly brought him to his knees.
Her clothes were still there.
That was what made it worse.
Norah had not taken the things Matteo bought her.
Designer shoes remained lined neatly inside the closet.
Jewelry stayed locked in velvet drawers.
A diamond necklace worth more than some houses had not been touched.
Even the handbag he bought her after their worst argument remained on the shelf.
She had taken practical clothing.
Documents.
Medication.
A suitcase.
Twenty percent.
And their unborn daughter.
Matteo stood in the doorway until Arthur approached.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We traced one of the vehicle changes.”
Matteo turned.
“Where?”
“Providence.”
His heart accelerated.
“Then?”
“We lost her.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“She transferred into a vehicle registered to a law firm.”
“Which firm?”
“Harper & Vale.”
Matteo stared at him.
Arthur immediately clarified.
“No connection to Harper Sinclair.”
Matteo almost laughed.
Even hearing Harper’s name now irritated him.
“Who hired them?”
“We don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Arthur hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
Matteo waited.
“The firm specializes in domestic separations involving high-risk spouses.”
Something cold moved through his chest.
“Domestic separation.”
“Yes.”
The phrase sounded absurd.
People did not separate from Matteo Rossi.
They negotiated.
They pleaded.
They disappeared for reasons he controlled.
But Norah had hired attorneys whose entire profession revolved around helping people leave dangerous marriages.
“Get me the managing partner.”
“They won’t speak.”
“They will.”
Arthur looked at Matteo carefully.
Normally that sentence would have carried a threat.
This time Arthur said, “If you pressure them, Norah will know.”
Matteo froze.
Arthur rarely challenged him.
“You think I care?”
“I think she expects you to.”
The words landed harder than Arthur intended.
Matteo looked toward the window.
Boston Harbor stretched gray beneath the morning clouds.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Mrs. Rossi knows how you handle resistance.”
Arthur chose each word carefully.
“If you threaten her lawyers, follow their families, lean on their clients—whatever you normally do—she’ll take it as proof she was right to leave.”
Matteo’s expression darkened.
Arthur continued anyway.
“You asked me to find her. I can find her faster if you let me do it without making her run farther.”
Matteo turned away.
For twenty minutes, he said nothing.
Then he gave an order Arthur never expected.
“No threats.”
Arthur blinked.
“No intimidation.”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
“Find her legally.”
Arthur almost smiled at the irony but wisely did not.
Meanwhile, three states away, Norah Rossi sat in a small rented cottage overlooking a lake.
There were no guards.
No reinforced windows.
No cameras in every hallway.
The front door had an ordinary brass lock.
For the first two nights, that frightened her.
On the third, it made her feel free.
The cottage belonged to a retired professor who spent most of the year in Arizona. Norah’s attorney had arranged the lease through multiple intermediaries.
Nothing luxurious.
Two bedrooms.
A narrow kitchen.
A fireplace.
A porch overlooking trees.
Norah loved it immediately.
Her new phone remained inside a drawer.
She used it only at predetermined times.
Her attorney, Evelyn Vale, sat across from her at the kitchen table.
“You understand he knows you used our firm.”
“Yes.”
“He will probably locate the general region eventually.”
“I know.”
Evelyn studied her.
“You don’t seem afraid.”
Norah looked toward the window.
“I’m terrified.”
“You hide it well.”
“I learned from Matteo.”
Evelyn nodded.
“What do you want?”
Norah rested a hand over her stomach.
“A divorce.”
“Anything else?”
“Full physical custody initially.”
“Financial support?”
“No.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
“He has obligations to his child.”
“I know. But I don’t want money used as a leash.”
“And the funds you transferred?”
“They came from accounts Matteo repeatedly told me existed for family emergencies.”
Evelyn leaned back.
“His attorneys may disagree.”
“They can.”
“You left most of the money untouched.”
“Yes.”
“Why exactly twenty percent?”
Norah hesitated.
“Because anything larger would have looked like revenge.”
Evelyn studied her.
“And this wasn’t?”
“No.”
“What was it?”
“Insurance.”
The baby kicked.
Norah winced slightly.
Evelyn noticed.
“When is your next appointment?”
“Tuesday.”
“I can arrange security.”
“No men in black suits.”
“I was thinking a retired female marshal.”
Norah almost smiled.
“That sounds better.”
Evelyn opened a folder.
“There’s another matter.”
“What?”
“If Matteo challenges custody aggressively, his criminal associations will become relevant.”
Norah went still.
“I don’t want to destroy him.”
“Leaving him may make that impossible to avoid.”
Norah looked down.
Despite everything, she did not hate Matteo.
That was another painful truth.
Love had not disappeared simply because trust did.
“I want him alive,” she said.
Evelyn’s expression softened.
“But away from you?”
“For now.”
“Do you believe he would hurt you?”
Norah answered immediately.
“No.”
Evelyn waited.
Norah understood the question was more complicated.
“Not physically.”
“What about controlling you?”
Norah looked toward the quiet lake.
“Yes.”
That was the danger Matteo never recognized.
He could destroy a person without touching them.
He could decide where she lived.
Who guarded her.
What car she used.
Which restaurants were safe.
Which friends were “appropriate.”
When travel was allowed.
When questions became disrespect.
Then he called all of it protection.
“I need him to understand,” Norah said quietly, “that loving me doesn’t give him ownership.”
Evelyn closed the folder.
“Men like Matteo Rossi rarely learn that voluntarily.”
Norah looked at her stomach.
“Then maybe losing us will teach him.”
Back in Boston, Matteo entered his study.
He found the photograph Norah had turned facedown.
Their wedding.
He stared at it.
Then his computer.
Arthur had already shown him the transfers.
Matteo pulled up the figures himself.
Norah had been careful.
Four accounts.
Twenty percent each.
No business accounts.
No operational reserves.
No attempt to cripple him.
He calculated the total.
Enough for decades if managed carefully.
She could disappear.
Completely.
A strange feeling rose inside him.
Pride.
Then shame for feeling it.
His wife had outmaneuvered him.
The thought should have made him furious.
Instead, it made him remember the first time he met her.
Norah Mercer had been twenty-seven and working in the accounting department of a shipping company Matteo quietly owned.
He entered the office one evening while searching for a manager who had been stealing.
Everyone went silent when Matteo appeared.
Everyone except Norah.
She looked up from her computer and said, “If you’re looking for Paul, he left forty minutes ago.”
Matteo had stared.
She stared back.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“And you talk to me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Normally.”
Norah shrugged.
“You asked a normal question.”
He fell in love with her because she was unimpressed by fear.
Then, over the years, he slowly surrounded her with so much of it that she had to escape.
Matteo shut the computer.
His private phone rang.
He expected Arthur.
Instead, Harper’s name appeared.
He almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“What?”
“You left me in Greece.”
“You have cards.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I’m busy.”
“With Norah?”
Matteo’s silence answered.
Harper laughed bitterly.
“She left you, Matteo.”
His grip tightened.
“And you think chasing her will fix it?”
“I said I’m busy.”
“She knew about us before the trip.”
Matteo stopped.
“What?”
Harper went quiet.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Harper.”
“Months, maybe.”
Matteo’s heart sank.
“You knew she knew?”
Harper sighed.
“She saw us once.”
“Where?”
“The restaurant in Back Bay.”
“When?”
“January.”
Four months earlier.
Matteo closed his eyes.
Norah had known.
For four months.
She had still made dinner.
Still attended meetings beside him.
Still slept next to him.
Still let him touch her belly when their daughter kicked.
Still listened while he promised Santorini would fix everything.
“You never told me.”
Harper’s voice hardened.
“Why would I? You said she would never leave.”
Matteo opened his eyes.
He had said that.
More than once.
Norah loves me too much.
Norah understands my life.
Norah knows what matters.
Norah will forgive me.
He had spoken of her loyalty as though it were a permanent resource.
Something to consume without consequence.
Harper continued.
“She looked right at me, Matteo.”
He could barely speak.
“And?”
“She didn’t make a scene.”
Of course she didn’t.
“What did she do?”
“She walked away.”
Matteo ended the call.
For the first time, he understood that the night in the kitchen had not been the moment his marriage broke.
It had broken months earlier.
He simply had not noticed the sound.
That evening, Arthur entered the study.
“We have a lead.”
Matteo looked up.
“A medical network request was made under an alias connected to Norah’s attorney.”
“Where?”
“Vermont.”
Matteo stood immediately.
Arthur raised a hand.
“There’s a problem.”
“What?”
“It could be bait.”
Matteo stopped.
Norah knew him.
If she wanted to disappear, she might deliberately create false trails.
Arthur continued.
“We have another request in Connecticut.”
Matteo stared at the map.
Two states.
Two possibilities.
Maybe neither.
For the first time in his adult life, Matteo Rossi possessed money, men, weapons, influence, and information—and none of it could give him the one answer he needed.
Where was his wife?
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
Stop looking for me. When I’m ready, my attorney will contact you. If you ever loved me, respect that.
Matteo read it twice.
Arthur watched him.
“What does it say?”
Matteo locked the screen.
His instincts screamed to trace the number.
Call his people.
Find the tower.
Find the location.
Bring her home.
Instead, he stood completely still.
Then he whispered the hardest order of his life.
“Stop the search.”
Arthur stared at him.
“Boss?”
Matteo looked at the ultrasound photograph beside Norah’s ring.
“You heard me.”
It was the first thing Norah had asked of him since leaving.
And if Matteo had any chance of proving he could become a man she no longer needed to run from, he would have to begin by doing something that felt impossible.
May you like
He would have to let her go.
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