Page 20 of Twisted Addiction
“She’s not dead.”
The words slipped out of Giovanni’s mouth like a confession meant for a priest, not for me.
I froze mid-step. “What?”
“She faked it,” he said, his voice cracking, the sound barely human. “Seraphina... she’s back.”
Silence stretched, taut as piano wire. Then I laughed—low, humorless.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I wish I was.” Giovanni’s throat bobbed. “She never died. The body we buried—it wasn’t her. She’s alive.”
A muscle jumped in my jaw.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying to me right now?”
“Boss...” Giovanni’s voice cracked, the words dragged out like he was forcing them past his own dread. “Penelope knows about Seraphina.” He said carefully, words tumbling fast as if to outrun my temper.
“I just—couldn’t keep up the lie anymore. Watching her lose her mind over a woman she thought you were still seeing... it was eating her alive. So I told her that Seraphina never existed.”
My fists curled so tight my nails bit into my palms, the sharp sting grounding the fury surging through me.
My voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “Tell me I misheard you, Giovanni. Tell me you didn’t open your fucking mouth about Seraphina.”
“Penelope was unraveling, boss,” he rushed out. “She thought you were cheating—she was losing her mind. If she kept going like that, she would’ve exposed everything, burned your name, burned her. I had to say something.”
My hand shot out before he could finish, fisting his collar and slamming him against the concrete wall hard enough for the sound to echo.
“What did you tell her?”
“I—”
“What did you tell her, Giovanni?” I hissed, inches from his face, my voice cutting like broken glass.
His breath hitched. “That she wasn’t real.”
I stared at him, my heartbeat a roar in my ears. “You told her she wasn’t real?”
“I was protecting you!” he choked. “And her! She was unstable. She was already betraying you—”
“My Penelope,” I interrupted softly, the softness like a blade pressed to skin, “would never betray me.” My fingers tightened on his collar until the fabric creaked. “She doesn’t lie to me. She doesn’t cheat. She doesn’t need to. Because she’s mine.”
He swallowed, but his eyes didn’t flinch. “She did,” Giovanni said quietly. “She... she planted a device on your phone. A spy bug. On her ex’s orders.I know you don’t want to hear it, but she’s not perfect. She’s capable of worse. I acted because you wouldn’t. And let’s be honest...” his lips twisted, “...you weren’t cheating.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him—the man who’d failed me once and now dared to rewrite my past.
Then, slowly, deliberately, I released him.
He fell to his knees, coughing.
I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my sleeves. “You’re running out of lives, Giovanni.”
“Seraphina existed,” I said through clenched teeth, each word a shard. “You should have told her that—told her the truth. Not that she was some fiction I invented to torment her.”
Giovanni’s eyes pleaded. “Give the word and I’ll see it done—quiet, clean. Whatever you order, I’ll make it happen.” His voice was small beneath the weight of his mistake, loyalty trying to resurface through fear.
I rounded on him, my patience fracturing like glass. “What command would you have me give?” I barked. “Kill my ex-fiancée and risk a war that never ends? Plunge Lake Como into chaos over a ghost who won’t stay buried?”
