After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 228: A Matchmaker’s Job is Never Done

The morning sun poured through the massive, arched windows of Le Jardin d’Hiver, an ultra-exclusive, invite-only café nestled deep in the Upper East Side. It was the kind of establishment where a single croissant cost thirty dollars, and the waitstaff looked like they moonlighted as runway models.

The glass doors opened, and an operative in a sharp black suit wheeled a woman into the sunlit room.

If Diana Sinclair was attempting to keep a low profile, she had definitely failed.

She was draped in a pristine camel-hair coat, her dark hair entirely concealed by a vintage Hermès silk scarf tied tightly under her chin. A pair of massive, jet-black Jackie O sunglasses obscured half her face, leaving only her signature red lipstick visible.

She scanned the room from behind her dark lenses.

She spotted her target almost immediately.

Seated gracefully at a secluded table in the center of the café was Vittoria Rossi.

Vittoria was the absolute, undeniable picture of European millionaire chic. She wore a crisp, tailored white linen suit that screamed old money, her dark hair falling in effortless, perfectly tousled waves around her shoulders.

Diana smiled, tapping the operative’s arm and pointing toward the table.

As the wheelchair approached, Vittoria lowered her large white porcelain cup. She looked at the approaching woman, her dark eyes blinking in mild amusement.

"Diana," Vittoria greeted, her voice smooth and melodic, carrying only the faintest hint of a posh Italian accent. She set her cup down, a polite smile touching her lips as she took in the ridiculous disguise. "It is good to see you. But tell me, are the paparazzi in New York truly that terrifying, or are you currently in witness protection?"

Diana let out a dramatic, weary sigh. She signaled for the operative to step back, reaching up with a gloved hand to peel the massive sunglasses off her face.

"You have no idea, Vittoria," Diana complained, adjusting her silk scarf. "Did you not see the news last night? Damien basically executed my reputation on live television! I can barely show my face in public without feeling the judgmental stares of the entire city."

Vittoria’s smile softened into something sympathetic, but her posture remained entirely unbothered.

"I must apologize," Vittoria said, picking up her cup again. "I haven’t checked social media or the news since I landed. I had no idea there was a scandal."

"It was a nightmare," Diana responded smoothly, leaning forward. "He was so incredibly cruel to me. This city has completely ruined him."

She paused, a small, smug smile touching her lips despite her complaints. "Though... he did buy me a cake afterward. The coconut chiffon cake. My absolute favorite."

Vittoria took a slow sip of her steaming coffee. She looked at Diana over the rim of the cup, her dark eyes sharp and entirely too perceptive.

"A cake," Vittoria mused softly, setting the cup down with a faint, knowing glimmer in her eye. "He still remembers your favorite dessert when you are upset. I highly doubt he intended to be truly cruel, Diana. Damien has always had a very specific way of communicating."

Vittoria leaned back in her chair, the picture of effortless grace.

"Besides," Vittoria added, her smile widening into something genuinely warm. "I heard the wonderful news. He is married now! I am very happy for him. It takes a remarkable woman to capture a heart like his."

Diana scoffed. A sharp, ugly sound of pure disdain tore from her throat.

"Happy for him?" Diana sneered, completely dropping the elegant facade. "Vittoria, please. He moved entirely backward in his love life. The girl is a cheap, D-list actress. She has absolutely no breeding, no class, and she is ten years his junior! She practically threw herself at him for his money. It is an absolute embarrassment to the Sinclair name."

Vittoria said nothing in response.

She didn’t defend Aria, nor did she agree with Diana. She simply maintained her elegant, perfect posture, keeping that polite, unbothered smile on her lips as Diana completely slandered the girl. To Vittoria, tearing down another woman for no sensible reason was simply distasteful.

A waitress glided over to the table, holding a silver carafe.

"More coffee, Ms. Rossi?" the waitress offered softly.

"Black, please. Thank you," Vittoria nodded.

As Vittoria reached her left hand out to adjust her saucer, the morning sunlight pouring through the arched windows caught the metal on her finger.

FLASH.

Diana flinched, reeling back in her wheelchair.

Sitting on the ring finger of Vittoria’s left hand was a diamond so massive, so blindingly radiant.

Diana’s brain short-circuited. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, staring at the ring as if it had just insulted her.

"Vittoria," Diana gasped, all the breath leaving her lungs. "Are you... are you married?!"

"Engaged," Vittoria corrected with a soft laugh, looking down at the diamond with deep affection.

Diana sat paralyzed.

She remembered the deep, gravelly voice of the man with the thick Italian accent who had answered the phone. The man who had completely ignored her elite status to demand gossip like a teenage fangirl.

’That simpleton,’ Diana thought, a wave of profound, aristocratic horror washing over her. ’That gossip-obsessed idiot who answered her phone... that was her fiancé?!’

It made absolutely no sense. Vittoria Rossi was a very successful and respected millionaire CEO. She was a visionary. She was brilliant, beautiful, and possessed the kind of ruthless corporate intellect that rivaled Damien’s. How could a woman of her caliber be settling for a man who sounded like he spent his free time refreshing Reddit threads?

"I can’t believe it," Diana whispered, shaking her head. "Who is the lucky man?"

"His name is Mateo," Vittoria smiled, her eyes lighting up in a way Diana had never seen before. "He is a movie director. He is currently shooting a project here in the States, which is why we are in New York."

Diana was internally screaming. ’A movie director? A glorified theater kid with a camera?!’ But as the shock settled, the rusty, manipulative gears in Diana’s head began to turn.