Page 15 of The Don's Soulmate

"I remember," I admit, my voice laced with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "My mother was terrified, but she believed in me. She took me from therapist to therapist, until someone told her about you and your powers with hypnotherapy. She was so desperate to help me, that she had no option but to believe you could help us make sense of it all. You and my mother were the only ones who didn't think I was crazy or possessed."

I shake my head, emotions swirling inside me. "The kids at school thought I was a freak. Some would pretend to be my friends, thinking that I could predict their future, or tell themthe winning lotto numbers for the next week. They didn't understand the terror I felt, knowing things I shouldn’t have known.”

Elma gives me a sympathetic look. "You had a gift even then. I recognized your visions for what they were - glimpses into past lives."

She refills our tea cups, the fragrant steam rising between us. "Your mother wanted what was best for you. She knew you needed guidance to understand and harness your talent."

I let out a heavy sigh. "I was angry back then. Angry at being different, at the burden of these memories. But you helped me find peace with my gift." I meet Elma's eyes, my voice thick with gratitude. "You taught me not to fear the past, but to learn from it. We never properly thanked you for that."

“And you taught me to be shrewd, choosing carefully whom I tell about the things I see.” I smile wryly.

"Your unique abilities left a profound impact on both your mother and yourself," Elma says gently, her words like soothing balm on old wounds. "But it also set you on the path to discovering who you really are, Ettore. Unless we speak openly, sitting here won’t serve you one bit."

I nod, acknowledging the truth in her words.

"Elma," I begin hesitantly, gripping my teacup tighter. Under your guidance, I learned how to navigate my visions. To seeksolitude when I felt an onset and how to transition from what I saw in my mind’s eye back to the reality around me. Over the years, I have managed my curiosity well by implementing these techniques. For the most part.”

“In recent years however, things have changed, the visions have become darker, clouding my mind long after I’ve seen them.”

“Tell me which way they have changed,” Elma speaks with a calm voice, not out of curiosity but to guide me into understanding. "It always starts the same - I'm seeing someone that I know I am passionately devoted to. The love between us is like an invisible chord. But then I'm forced to watch as my lover is murdered. And the pain from that memory is – it sometimes is a physical pain that remains within me."

My hands tremble at the chilling memories. "Sometimes they are shot. Other times, they stabbed or strangled. But the ending is always savage and bloody. I see my past lovers dying in terrible ways. It's as if I'm reliving their final moments over and over again." There is pain and anguish in my voice, laying bare my vulnerability.

“Past lovers?” Elma asks.

“Different ones each time.”

“Is it just them who die?”

“Sometimes it is them,” I tell her, a coldness seeping through me. “At other times it feels as though I die too. It’s like I’ve never lived out a life with someone I love.”

Elma listens attentively, and her expression is one of empathy and understanding. As if sensing my need for reassurance, she reaches over and lays a comforting hand on my arm.

Elma gives my arm an encouraging squeeze. "You have been gifted with a rare perspective into your past lives. Now your soul is trying to speak to you, to push you towards your true destiny."

“But what of it? Destiny?”

“I can’t say,” she clucks her tongue. “Death is a part of life, and considering how many you’ve lived, it must be something you’re terribly afraid of. For now, I tell you to live in these nightmares, to brave them, for they might be a way to let you in on a secret you don’t yet fully comprehend.”

“So…” I try to ask. “You’re telling me to stop trying to control them? To stop wanting to force a positive outcome?”

“Exactly,” she says. “Only if you know what you’re fighting against, will you understand what’s coming your way this time around.”

As she speaks, the room seems to grow darker, the shadows lengthening around us. My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation mingling with fear. What secrets are locked away in my tortured memories? What might be coming my way?

"Stay in touch, Ettore," Elma continues, her eyes never leaving mine. "Keep exploring the connections you share with those you've loved. Together, we'll find the answers you seek."

"I will, Elma.” I tell her, and bid goodbye. What I don’t say is how thankful I am that in this life, I don’t have a woman to love. At least in this lifetime, there is no fair maiden that will be murdered right in front of my wretched eyes.

Chapter 7

Carlotta

"This can't go on, Carlotta. Your childish behavior is putting the whole family at risk." Papa is furious.

I try to defend myself, explaining that getting caught up in a robbery at the bank was hardly my fault. "I don't know why you are angry with me, Papa. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday."

"Don't play dumb. Giving your security the slip and getting yourself entangled in a robbery." He slams his fist on the table, rattling the fine bone china. "What if they had taken you hostage? Or worse?"

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