COLD TRAP

CHAPTER 51



Chapter 51 

MATTEO 

7B

“Twenty five million” 

“Thirty million!” 

“Thirty five million!” 

“Fifty million!” 

My nose flare. 

Who the fuck is this bitch? 

It has been five years. 

It has been five fucking years! 

Five years since I lost my wife and everyday I regret the poor decisions I made on that day five years ago. After she was taken away by her friends, I thoroughly read through those documents until it dawned on me that I was mistaken. It was all a misunderstanding. I read through those documents and finally understood her plight, I understood her need to remain silent but I was too late. She was already gone and had 

to live with immense guilt. 

I looked for her, I did. Tore the whole city apart in my quest to set my eyes upon my wife one more time but she just vanished into thin air as though she never existed. 

And I became a shadow of myself, having to live e with regrets for as long as five years 

years

The regret of killing my brother, friend and partner, Pablo. 

The regret of launching an attack on Marcelo unprepared even when Mirabella advised against it. I failed. He slipped from my grasp and fled and I was left with nothing but trails of dead bodies to clean up. 

Mirabella was right when she said that her father dedicated his whole life to perfecting his plan but as hot headed as I was, I started a war that I was unprepared for. Understandably so, considering how angry I was. I had killed my best friend, lost my wife and lost the trust of my brothers all because of that bastard. 

I became impatient and fucked it all up. 

I guess I wasn’t so wise after all 

Today, I’m seated at a charity event, bidding millions on a property I plan to make into one of my warehouses here in Spain. Except, there’s a woman seated in this same room who is as interested in the same property as I and is willing to bet whatever amount just to make sure she 

gets her hands on it. 

Over my dead body 

But there’s something about her. I’ve never looked at another woman since Mirabella until now. This alluring woman whose face I haven’t been able to see, this woman whose voice seems to be awfully familiar, this woman whose very familiar dark hair is in an updo, and those white pearls around her perfect neck. I feel so drawn to her and I’m unable to wrap my head around the reason as to why an annoying 

stranger has this much effect on me. 

Squinting my eyes at her, a very familiar artwork immediately catches my 

by attention. The tattoo around her neck. A tattoo that matches the 

12:23 Sat, 22 Jun 

exact one I have. An illusion of a snake digging its fangs into her neck, 

Mirabella was always fond of that tattoo. She loved the uniqueness of the art and she loved the story behind it even more. She always promised to get the exact replica on her whenever she had the courage to sit through the pain. 

Now this stranger has the same one. 

Did she perhaps get it done at the same tattoo parlor where I had potten mine done? 

Even if that were the case, this tattoo holds significance for me and I sternly warned that no one else was allowed to get the exact replica except for my wife. 

This woman…there’s something about her, something so enchanting, a pulling force drawing me to her amidst my struggles. Who’s she? Why’s her presence making me feel so heated up? Why has she chosen to taunt me? Why wouldn’t she turn around and at least let me take a glance at her features? 

And her companions–a man and a woman–there’s something familiar about them. The man’s buff back is turned to me but his side profile…I’ve seen that face before but I just cannot place it. 

“Fifty million going oncel Going twice- 

“One hundred million!” I scream 

If she wants to play, then let’s play. 

Her shoulders vibrate in laughter as she places a chip in front of the man seated by her side. “One hundred and fifty million!” 

Alessio clears his throat “Matteo, you don’t have to. We can always get ano-” 

“Two hundred million!” 

The man seated by the mystery woman attempts whipping his head toward my direction but she’s quick to grip his arm, shaking her head at him in disagreement. 

Slowly, extremely slowly, she begins turning her head toward my direction with a smirk tugging at her lips. 

Fuck! 

Suddenly, everything feels empty. A lump gets caught up in my throat and I can only manage a few gasps and continuous blinking. 

Those pair of orbs. Those eyes that I would worship, they’re boring into mine. My wife is seated in here with me, competing with me in such a 

vile manner like an enemy. 

The ocean blue dead ice cold Iris speaks volume, it speaks hate, destruction, disgust and pain. Then there’s the emerald green Iris that speaks a more gentle language. It speaks understanding, faith, acceptance and uncertainty. 

I loosen my tie, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as my eyes drop to her lips. Those lips that I could spend an entire day kissing and be sated, those lips that would scream my name out loud whilst I fucked her into oblivion, those lips that would enclose perfectly around my dick, 

those are the same lips shooting such evil smirk at me. 

I gulp down harshly, choking on my own saliva. 

“Three hundred million!” She yells, still smirking at me with her eyes narrowed maliciously. 

But I remain silent because I don’t have it in me to counter. She knows what she’s doing. She knew what she was doing coming in here with 

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exact one I have. An illusion of a snake digging its fangs into her neck, 

Mirabella was always fond of that tattoo. She loved the uniqueness of the art and she loved the story behind it even more. She always promised to get the exact replica on her whenever she had the courage to sit through the pain. 

Now this stranger has the same one. 

Did she perhaps get it done at the same tattoo parlor where I had gotten mine done? 

Even if that were the case, this tattoo holds significance for me and I sternly warned that no one else was allowed to get the exact replica except for my wife. 

This woman…there’s something about her, something so enchanting, a pulling force drawing me to her amidst my struggles. Who’s she? Why’s her presence making me feel so heated up? Why has she chosen to taunt me? Why wouldn’t she turn around and at least let me take a glance at her features? 

And her companions–a man and a woman–there’s something familiar about them. The man’s buff back is turned to me but his side profile…I’ve seen that face before but I just cannot place it. 

“Fifty million going once! Going twice- 

“One hundred million!” I scream 

If she wants to play, then let’s play. 

Her shoulders vibrate in laughter as she places a chip in front of the man seated by her side. “One hundred and fifty million!” 

Alessio clears his throat, “Matteo, you don’t have to. We can always get ano- 

“Two hundred million!” 

The man seated by the mystery woman attempts whipping his head toward my direction but she’s quick to grip his arm, shaking her head at 

him in disagreement. 

Slowly, extremely slowly, she begins turning her head toward my direction with a smirk tugging at her lips. 

Fuck! 

Suddenly, everything feels empty. A lump gets caught up in my throat and I can only manage a few gasps and continuous blinking. 

Those pair of orbs. Those eyes that I would worship, they’re boring into mine. My wife is seated in here with me, competing with me in such a 

vile manner like an enemy. 

The ocean blue dead ice cold tris speaks volume, it speaks hate, destruction, disgust and pain. Then there’s the emerald green iris that speaks a more gentle language. It speaks understanding, faith, acceptance and uncertainty. Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

I loosen my tie, shitting Uncomfortably in my seat as my eyes drop to her lips. Those lips that I could spend an entire day kissing and be sated, those lips that would scream my name out loud whilst I fucked her into oblivion, those lips that would enclose perfectly around my dick, those are the same lips shooting such evil smirk at me. 

I gulp down harshly, choking on my own saliva

“Three hundred million!” She yells, still smirking at me with her eyes narrowed maliciously. 


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