Left for Dead, My Brother Said It Was My Fault

Bella’s POV

A loud bang snapped me back to the present.

Matteo was searching the room now, scanning every corner for proof that I’d been here.

He accidentally kicked over the chair.

I stared at that chair. At the claw marks gouged into the wood.

I’d been in agony. But I’d held on—so long that even they’d seemed surprised.

The scarred man shoved a phone into my hand at the end.

“I’ll give you this,” he said. “You’re tough. Call your brother. Convince him to meet with us, and I’ll let you live.”

I dialed Matteo’s number.

I never planned to tell him to come. I just wanted to tell him the truth. To give him something—anything—to understand what had really happened.

I didn’t get the chance.

“Don’t call me unless it’s necessary,” Matteo snapped. “And don’t tell me you’ve screwed up another deal. Honestly, Bella—when will you grow up and take responsibility?”

I felt my strength drain away with those words.

“Don’t call me until you fix what you’d done wrong.”

The line went dead.

The scarred man laughed softly, almost pitying. “Damn. Your brother’s cold.”

He stepped closer.

“Guess you’re useless to us now.”

He raised the gun and pointed it at me.

“Let’s just hope you’re worth something after you’re dead.”

…

“Don, we’ve searched everywhere,” Lorenzo said, stepping up beside Matteo. “Looks like the Moretti cleaned out the place after they killed that woman.”

He held something small in his hand.

“All we found was this—caught under the chair.”

A torn shred of fabric.

Floral.

Matteo froze the second he saw it.

His eyes locked on the pattern. Recognition flickered. I could almost feel him remembering—

the dress.

The one he’d given me. Before everything went wrong.

He stared at it for a long moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Hollow.

“This… this can’t be it.”

He looked away.

“It must be a coincidence.”

…

It wasn’t long after Matteo and Lorenzo returned to the casino that the forensic came back with the results.

“Don…” He couldn’t even bring himself to look Matteo in the eye. “That body...It's Bella DeLuca. I ran multiple tests. They all confirm the same result.”

Matteo looked shattered.

Finally, I saw it—the crack in him.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “No. That’s not real.”

I drifted closer, reaching for him even though I knew he couldn’t feel it. “It’s true, Matteo. I’m dead.”

Relief tangled with anger and guilt.

Part of me felt awful that even in death, all I’d done was bring Matteo more trouble. And part of me burned with the question—why couldn’t Matteo trust me? Not even once.

If he had… maybe things wouldn’t have ended like this.

“No,” Matteo shouted suddenly. “Take me to the body. I need to see it myself.”

“Don,” the forensic said carefully, “the body decomposed quickly. It was really hard to recognize just by looking at it. But I can assure you—the DNA results are conclusive.”

Matteo sank back into his chair.

I hadn’t expected this. The grief on his face was raw, devastating. I’d thought brother no longer cared about me.

“Bella…” he whispered.

“Yes, Matteo,” I answered, though he couldn’t hear me.

“I was angry,” he said, voice breaking. “But I couldn’t lose you. You’re the only family I have left in this world.”

Tears slipped down his face.

“Bella, please… you can’t do this to me. I was wrong. I was wrong.”

I pressed my hand to his cheek, wishing—aching—for him to feel it.

If only you’d admit you cared about me while I was alive.

If only I could’ve heard it then.

But nothing could go back to how it was.

The brother who loved me was finally back—and I was too dead to ever hold him again.