My Don Forgot Who Gave Him Everything Chapter 05

My Don Forgot Who Gave Him Everything Chapter 05

The night word got out that I planned to sell my shares, 

Matteo called me. 

His voice came through the phone, tight with suppressed 

anger. 

“Elena, who gave you the nerve to sell your shares in Rinaldi Data without telling me?” 

“How dare you?” 

I idly inspected my manicure and said without much interest, “I don’t even want you anymore. Why would I still want anything to do with your company?” 

Matteo was so furious he could barely speak, but there was nothing he could do. 

After a long moment, his tone softened. 

“If you want to sell, I won’t stop you.” 

“Name your price. Sell them to me.” 

“How generous of you, Mr. Rinaldi.” I smiled. “I won’t ask for much. Market price is fine.” 

“But that’s only the price of the shares. As for marital 

property, we’ll still follow what we agreed on. All savings, real estate, and cars will be split sixty–forty, with sixty percent to me and forty percent to you.” 

The other end of the line went quiet for two seconds. 

“I don’t have that much liquidity.” 

“How about this? Transfer the shares to me, and all marital 

property is yours.” 

I paused for a moment and began calculating the approximate 

value in my head. 

“No.” 

“Your forty percent isn’t enough to buy the shares I hold.” 

“Besides, you’ve spent quite a lot on Lila, haven’t you? I have 

every right to recover that money.” 

“Elena, don’t push it too far.” 

He warned me through gritted teeth. 

But I was not afraid. 

“I suggest you come up with a better offer. Otherwise, I may 

just sell them to someone else.” 

He stayed silent for a long time. 

“On top of all the marital property, I’ll give you the three 

Tribeca penthouses I bought before we got married.” 

Hearing that, I gave a faint smile. 

“Then thank you, Mr. Rinaldi.” 

“I’ll come to the company tomorrow to sign the contract.” 

One early morning two weeks later, I opened the door to the 

apartment. 

The moment I stepped into the foyer, I saw a man sitting on 

the sofa. 

Instinctively, I jumped in fright. 

It was Matteo. 

He must not have slept all night. The white shirt on him was wrinkled, his collar hung open, and his eyes were so dark that I 

could not read the emotion inside them. 

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and unpleasant, and even 

he frowned at the sound of it. 

“Elena, what did you do to Lila this time?” 

I put down my bag, my tone calm. 

“What did I do?” 

“And even if I had done something, what would it have to do 

with you now?” 

Matteo’s expression darkened even further. 

“Where were you all night? Why didn’t you come home?” 

His tone made it sound as if he were interrogating a suspect, 

and it disgusted me. 

I could not help rolling my eyes at him. 

“Whether I come home or not has nothing to do with you, 

does it?” 

I was about to ignore him and go back to the bedroom when he called out to me coldly. 

“Elena, I’m warning you for the last time. Don’t let your 

friends harass Lila.” 

“My patience has limits.” 

The moment he said that, I understood what he was talking 

about. 

Nora was a well–known coffee consultant in New York, and 

she also designed drink programs for many high–end 

restaurants. 

A couple of days ago, to vent some anger on my behalf, Nora 

had singled Lila out in front of every employee and customer 

in the shop and asked her to make an espresso herself. 

After taking one sip, Nora critiqued it point by point, from the 

grind and extraction to the temperature, milk foam, and latte 

art. 

After being called out by name, Lila ran out of the coffee shop 

crying and nearly ran into a bike courier by the curb. 

As for that, I had only one comment. 

“Nora was just doing her job. She actually complained to you 

about that?” 

“That’s awfully thin–skinned.” 

I smiled as I watched Matteo’s face darken abruptly, then 

continued. 

“You’re not the only one with limits, Matteo. I have them 

too.” 

“I bought this apartment myself before we got married. It’s my separate property.” 

“At three this afternoon, I’ll have someone come change the 

locks.‘ 

“You’d better hurry up and pack your things. Anything still 

here after three will be removed by a cleanout crew.” 

“As for where it ends up, trust me, you won’t want to know.” 

With that, I walked back into the bedroom and slammed the 

door shut.