CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER-145. (REMORSE. FOR SURVIVING?).

I stared at her, my hands curling into fists.

"After what I pulled?" My voice came out small, disbelieving.

Her jaw clenched as she tried to start another session of upper-class manners, "Elena, try to understand..."

"No," I snapped, my voice shaking but strong.

Everything felt silent. Even my mother raised her eyebrows, as if she did not expect a sudden reply from me.

Matteo said nothing, nor did he move to support me.

He just watched me quietly, like he knew this was something I needed to do. And I might think he was right. For now.

My mother’s expression hardened even more.

She hissed as she spat out, "This tone...This is exactly what I am talking about. You come here after all that disgrace, and you still have no remorse?"

I laughed. It was a bitter and hollow one, "Remorse? For surviving?"

I knew she did not know about the truth, but her trust in me was so fragile that it got broken just by some news articles and rumors. I started to think about telling everything when she snapped.

"Enough!" Her voice echoed off the walls.

The silence that followed was painful. My throat burned, but I refused to cry.

I looked at her...really looked at her.

I realized I did not recognize the woman sitting across from me. The mother I had known was long gone.

This one cared only about appearances. About power.

About the perfect world she built around herself.

When I finally spoke again, my voice was quiet but steady, "I did not come here to ruin your reputation, Mother. I came because I thought you might still care if I was okay."

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

For the first time, she looked small. Not weak, but lost, like she did not know what to say.

Matteo finally broke the silence, his voice low, "That’s enough for today."

But I couldn’t move. I just sat there, staring at her. The woman who had once tucked me in at night now looked like a stranger hiding behind pearls and control.

And I knew then, ’The Heavens’ was not that same home anymore.

It was just a museum of what used to be. Cold walls, polished marble, and silence where love used to live.

Matteo just slipped his hand inside his perfectly pressed suit jacket, calm as ever, and pulled out his phone.

The air around us was already tense, but the quiet sound of him unlocking his phone somehow made it worse.

He didn’t scroll, but just dialed a number, lifted the phone to his ear, and said one single word in his cold, crisp, and final voice.

"Go."

That one word dropped into the air like a stone thrown into still water, and the deafening silence that followed felt like a ripple turning into a wave.

For a second, I did not understand. My mother also looked at him with confusion.

"What... what did he just say?" she asked sharply, turning to me.

"Elena, who is he? What is going on?" Her question made me snap out of my trance.

Before I could open my mouth to explain, the door at the end of the hall suddenly swung open.

And then, chaos walked in.

A line of people in black suits entered the room, one after another, moving in perfect synchronization.

Each of them carried a leather briefcase, their faces serious and focused.

They did not glance around, nor did they show any sign of hesitation, just a clear expression as they walked in.

Behind them came another line of men twice their size, broad-shouldered, wearing dark tactical jackets, each holding heavy rifles.

Their boots echoed sharply against the marble floor, and the moment they stepped in, the air in the room shifted.

It wasn’t my imagination; even the house itself seemed to shrink.

My jaw fell open as I tried to ask, "Matteo... what the..."

Before I could finish, my mother screamed.

"What is this?! Who are these people?!" She turned to me in panic, her voice sharp, her face pale.

"Elena! What is happening? Why are men with guns in my house?!"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I had no idea what he had planned. I turned toward Matteo, hoping he would say something, but he did not even look at me.

The men kept coming in their calm, disciplined manner, completely unfazed by my mother’s screams.

My mother’s grip tightened suddenly around my wrist, so tight it made me wince.

She hissed under her breath. "Elena! What have you done?! Are they with him? Is this some kind of threat?"

"Mom, I..." I tried to speak, but her nails dug deeper into my skin, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from yelping in pain.

I followed her gaze toward Matteo, who now stood in the middle of the chaos, silent and unbothered, his shades still on as if nothing about this scene was even remotely unusual.

"Matteo, what in the world are you doing?" I hissed quietly, trying to catch his attention.

He didn’t answer.

He just nodded once...a small, curt gesture.

Immediately, the men with briefcases split into two groups, setting their cases down on the coffee table.

A few of them opened them, revealing stacks of neatly organized papers and legal seals. They began to quietly discuss something among themselves, their words too low to catch.

Lawyers.

They were lawyers.

But the ones behind them, the armed ones, stood guard like a wall of shadows.

My mother’s breathing grew rapid.

"This is madness," she muttered, turning to me again, her voice shaking now. "What have you gotten us into, Elena?"

Before I could respond, Matteo finally moved.

He walked past us with quiet authority, the sound of his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble.

Without a word, he sat down on the main couch. It was the one my father always used, the one no one else was allowed to occupy, as if it were his throne.

The audacity of it made my mother’s face twist in disbelief.

He removed his shades slowly, revealing the sharp intensity in his eyes. For a second, the room felt like it had lost all its air. His gaze swept over both of us...cold, assessing, dangerous.

Matilda’s lips parted, her shock turning into fury.

"How dare you? You barge into my house with armed men, scare my staff, and..." she snapped.

But before she could finish, Matteo turned his head slightly, staring into her soul, and that one simple look made her falter.