He looked at the image again.
It was a beach picture. Anastasia was in a bikini, her skin bronzed by the sun and glistening with sea salt.
She looked breathtakingly beautiful, her hair damp and tossed over one shoulder, a lethal carefree expression on her face that she wore most of the time.
Matteo's jaw tightened so hard it pained him.
He recognized the photo instantly. It was from her Instagram... one of the few posts she hadn't deleted.
He knew this because, in the quiet, lonely hours of the night he had scrolled through her page a dozen times.
He had memorized every curve, every shadow, and every smile in those digital squares.
Seeing it on Antonio's phone felt like a physical violation. It wasn't just a photo, it was a taunt. Antonio was showing him that he was watching her, that he was scrolling through her life just like Matteo was, but with none of the right to do so.
