Then I sit back and wait for the dominoes to fall.
—
I workthrough the day without stopping—more phone calls, more emails. More carefully orchestrated moves designed to dismantle Edgar Beauregard's empire piece by piece. By noon, two more of his major clients have pulled their contracts. By three, the Treasury Department has opened a formal investigation into his tax practices. By six, his stock price has dropped fifteen percent. I should feel satisfied, victorious. Like I'm winning. Instead, I feel nothing.
Just the cold, empty efficiency of someone who's done this a thousand times before. Someone who knows exactly how to destroy a person's life—someone who's very good at being a monster.
My phone rings, and when I pick up, it’s my father.
"I heard about Beauregard," he says, and there's approval in his voice. "Good work. Exactly what I would have done."
"I'm not finished.”
"I know. But you're doing well. You're remembering what I taught you. How to be ruthless. How to be effective." He pauses. "I’m pleased with you, son.”
That should make me feel better. But all I can think about is how right now, I’d rather have Savannah here with me. What she’d think if she saw all this, what the expression on her face might be.
There's a long silence.
"Romeo—"
I hang up. And then I think about her upstate, safe and protected and far away from this version of me. I think about what she would say if she could see me now, surrounded by evidence of everything I'm doing to destroy the people who hurt her.
Would she be grateful? Relieved? Or would she be horrified?
I pull out my phone and stare at her contact information. My thumb hovers over the call button. It's one in the morning. She's probably asleep. I shouldn't wake her.
But I need to hear her voice. I need to know she's real, that she's okay, that I haven't lost her completely.
I press call. It rings once. Twice. Three times. Then it goes to voicemail.
"Savannah." My voice cracks on her name. "I—I just needed to hear your voice. I needed to know you're okay. I'm?—"
I stop, because I don't know what to say. I'm sorry? I'm falling apart? I'm becoming the monster I was before you, and I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in it again?
I hang up without finishing the message. Then I call again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail.
On the fifth try, I don't leave a message. I just listen to her voice on the recording—bright and warm and so far away—and I feel something crack inside my chest. I'm losing her. I'm losing myself. I need to finish this, and it’s taking far too long.
I must fall asleep at some point, because I wake up to my phone ringing and sunlight streaming through the windows. Savannah's name is on the screen.
I answer so fast I almost drop the phone. "Savannah?—"
"Romeo." Her voice is worried. "I saw your calls. Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I needed to hear your voice," I manage. "I needed to know you're okay."
"I'm fine. I'm safe. Giulia is taking good care of me." There's a pause. "But you don't sound okay. What's happening? What are you doing?"
I look around at the evidence scattered across my apartment, at the plans I've been making. "I don't know," I whisper. "I don't know anymore. Without you here, I'm—I'm turning back intowhat I was before. Cold. Empty. Ruthless. I'm becoming exactly what my father made me, and I don't know how to stop it."
I hear her breath catch.
"Luca said I'm spiraling. He's right, Savannah. I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize myself. I'm doing things that should bother me, and they don't. I'm destroying people's lives, and I feel nothing. And the worst part is—I'm good at it. I'm so fucking good at being this person, and that terrifies me."
"Romeo—"
"You're the only thing that makes me human." My voice breaks completely, and I realize I’m on the verge of crying, a thing so anathema to who I am that it shocks me to my core. "You're the only person that makes me feel anything. And without you here, I'm losing that. I'm losing myself. I can't?—"
