The Black Swan's Final Revenge Pirouette: The 99th Game Was Mine All Along by Kylie Homme

Chapter 4

Within seconds, the messages disappeared from the chat, as if they’d been nothing but a hallucination.

Ariana stared at her phone, her hand trembling so violently she nearly dropped it. The realization hit her like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs. The cold truth spread through her veins like poison.

Everything–her “accident” at the pool, her fever, the “medicine“-had all been meticulously orchestrated as part of their sick game. The pills Luigi had so tenderly given her, pretending to care, were specifically designed to intensify her suffering.

She’d known they were using her, had heard it with her own ears at the hospital, but experiencing it firsthand made the betrayal infinitely more devastating. The calculated cruelty of it all made her physically ill.

Her phone lit up with Luigi’s name.

“Where the fuck are you?” His voice was sharp with urgency, almost angry. “Why aren’t you at the apartment?”

Ariana took a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to sound detached: “My fever got worse. I had to go

to the ER.”

The line went dead silent before Luigi responded, his tone suddenly softer: “I’m coming over. Which hospital?”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice eerily calm. “They’re just giving me fluids and keeping me overnight. You seem busy with your… other priorities. Don’t let me interrupt.

Her controlled tone seemed to quiet something in him too. After several seconds of silence, he asked carefully: “Did you check your phone at all?”

So that

1. it. He wasn’t worried about her health–he was terrified she’d seen those messages, that their

game was exposed.

“No,” she lied, “The doctor said my temperature was dangerously high. I’ve been a little preoccupied with not dying to scroll through social media.”

Another weighted silence before Luigi spoke, his voice carrying an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “As long as I’m around, nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.”

made her want to scream. A bitter laugh caught in her throat.

pain she’d experienced

Copier

wasn’t her

Ariana

she could. process what was happening, three men jumped out and grabbed her, one clamping a sweet–smelling

this just be random, not another one of

motel room, wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. Four

running a finger down her cheek. “Luigi’s little princess, all wrapped

do you want?”

still clearing from her mind, “Who are you? What

reaching for the buttons on her blouse. “That rich boy’s been hogging you all

pictures for your boyfriend,” a third one said, pulling out his phone. “Show him what a

her restraints, but in her weakened state, she was no match for them. They laughed at her struggles,

her clothes, tears streamed down her face. Despite everything, in that moment of pure terror, she still found herself desperately hoping Luigi would somehow find her–that he would burst through that

summoned by her thoughts, the door exploded inward, wood splintering from

AWAY FROM HER!” Luigi’s voice was unrecognizable–a primal roar of pure rage that made even Ariana freeze

other in their

she saw stopped her heart–genuine fear in

that brief moment, it was like seeing an

side, bús hands visibly shaking as

trauma was too fresh. She flinched away instinctively, a broken seb escaping her lips as she pressed herself against the

across his face seemed genuine, but before she could process it, the room began to spin, black spots dancing atross her vision. The combination of

awareness in what she recognized as a

the heard voices just outside her door–Luigi and his

heated

controlled, trembling with rage. “Which one of you geniuses thought hiring men to sexually assault her was part

just two more

making the others fall silent. “I never authorized anyone