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

Chapter 13

Recalling the disastrous fate of that previous business partner, Michael silently calculated how many hours he’d need to update his resume after today’s inevitable implosion.

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the tempest of Luigi’s rage.

To his absolute shock, Luigi not only picked up the tickets but examined them with unexpected interest, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering with something approaching tenderness.

The tickets were elegantly minimal–clean black typography on heavy cream cardstock, containing only essential information without a single decorative flourish.

The stark simplicity transported Luigi to a moment he’d spent years trying to forget.

Ariana, curled up on their bed three years ago, sketching ticket designs on her tablet, her hair piled messily atop her head. She’d been so alive then–passionate, determined, completely herself.

“Look at this,” she’d said, holding up a clean, minimalist design. “Don’t you think this actually communicates more than all that cluttered nonsense they keep asking for?”

He remembered how she would return from her internship at Boston Ballet, dramatically flopping onto their couch with entertaining impressions of the marketing director.

“It needs more pizzazz,” she’d mimic in an exaggerated voice, gesturing wildly. “Make the font bigger! Add sparkles! People won’t know it’s art unless we hit them over the head with it!”

Luigi had laughed then–casually, carelessly, not appreciating how perfect those ordinary moments were. How

erfect she had been.

If he hadn’t destroyed everything with his revenge plot, would they be sharing those moments still? Would she be designing minimalist tickets for performances he attended proudly as her husband?

through him with

should attend. A whisper in his mind suggested that perhaps, somehow, he might find a

tickets into his jacket pocket and

figures made obligatory pilgrimages to Luigi’s front–row seat, attempting to secure a

Chapter 13

rare public attention.

disinterested “sure“-until they retreated,

performances had become emotional

in elegant repose. When the music

liquid shadow following her movements. Despite the pearl–white half–mask concealing her features, her artistic

who had been enduring rather than watching, found himself inexplicably drawn to her performance. There was something in her movement quality that

within him.

during an arabesque, the characteristic tilt of her head during pirouettes, the musicality of her phrasing–all of

their apartment, barefoot on hardwood floors, demonstrating a phrase she’d been working on. “Watch this transition,” she’d said, executing the exact same distinctive port de bras he was witnessing now.

his throat as past and

moved with such similar qualities that he could almost believe the

approaching the edge of the stage nearest his seat, Luigi found himself leaning forward involuntarily,

the name escaping before he could stop it.

else, the dancer’s rhythm faltered slightly–a millisecond hesitation before she recovered flawlessly

momentary break in perfection sent electricity through Luigi’s veins.

couldn’t.

concluded and thunderous applause erupted around him, Luigi remained fixated on the masked dancer, searching for further confirmation of what seemed both impossible