I press my burning cheek against the cool tile and force myself to breathe. To think past the grief and rage churning in my chest.
The recording. The truth about Romano that I’ve been carrying for three years, terrified that revealing it would make me either too valuable or too dangerous to keep alive.
And the whole time, Luca had already decided to kill me anyway.
A laugh bubbles up my throat, half-hysterical. All that agonizing over whether to tell him. All those sleepless nights wondering if the information would save me or doom me. And it didn’tmatter. None of it mattered because my fate was sealed the moment he decided I was responsible for what my father did.
Footsteps outside of the bedroom make me freeze.
“Giuliana?” Luca’s voice, muffled by the bedroom door. “Please, let me explain?—”
“Go away!” the scream tears from my raw throat. “Go the fuck away!”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
I grab the soap dispenser from the counter and hurl it at the door. It explodes against the wood in a shower of glass and liquid soap. “You don’t have achoice! You lost the right to care about me when you planned my fuckingmurder!”
Silence. Long, painful silence.
Then a soft beep and my breath catches. He’s actually trying the key card. He isn’t going to respect my boundaries. A thud follows. Another. The door won’t budge.
Thank god I had the foresight to barricade the door.
“I can’t get in,” he says, voice cracking. “You blocked it, didn’t you?”
“Damn right I did.” My voice breaks on the words. “Go the fuck away, Luca and leave me alone!”
More silence. Then, finally, the sound of retreating footsteps.
I collapse against the tile, my body still shaking, and let myself fall apart completely.
Because it’s not just about the plan to kill me, though that’s horrifying enough on its own. It’s about every moment between us being recontextualized through this new, terrible lens.
The night after the Romano gathering, when we had sex on his bed—was that real desire, or just him asserting ownership?Making sure I knew I belonged to him body and soul so I’d be easier to control?
The morning in the garden when we released the deer together, when he promised me a future and I let myself believe him…
Was any of that genuine? Or was he just stringing me along? Did he enjoy giving me hope only to plan to crush it the entire time?
The wedding.The fucking wedding, where I stood in that beautiful dress and said vows while he—what? Counted down the days until he could dispose of me without complications?
Every memory is poisoned now. Every tender moment suspect. Every promise revealed as a lie.
And my father.
Oh god, my father.
Luca told me Dad was safe, recovering, that I’d see him soon. He looked me in the eyes andpromisedme, all while planning—what did Dimitri say? Make Antonio watch his daughter die first, then execute him?
My stomach tries to heave again, but there’s nothing left.
He was going to make my fatherwatch. Was going to torture him with my death before killing him too. That was the plan. That wasalwaysthe plan.
And when the plan changed, I—I was going to let him comfort me through Dad’s “natural death.” I was going to let him hold me while I mourned the father hemurdered.
The thought makes me want to claw my own skin off.
How did I not see it? How did I let myself be so thoroughly fooled?
