Chapter 17
Just as Ariana turned to leave, a loud thud stopped her mid step.
Turning back, she found Michael Luigi’s executive assistant–staring at her with shock etched across his face, his dropped briefcase scattered across the hospital floor.
“Mrs… Maggiore?” he stammered, face draining of color. “Is that really you?”
Escape, it seemed, wouldn’t be so simple. Michael recovered quickly, positioning himself between Ariana and the exit with newfound determination.
“Please,” he implored, lowering his voice. “You can’t just disappear again. You have no idea what he’s been through since the fire. The man hasn’t slept through a single night in a year. Even if you want nothing to do with him now, at least stay until he’s out of surgery. He literally just took a car impact for
you.”
Ariana regarded him coolly, her expression betraying nothing of the calculations happening behind it.
“First,” she stated with clinical precision, “I am not Mrs. Maggiore. That person died in a fire last year–a fact your boss publicly confirmed.”
“Second, I’ll stay until he’s stable, but I’m leaving immediately after. My company has a performance
tomorrow.”
“Third, I have zero interest in rekindling any connection with Luigi Maggiore. Our relationship ended the moment he orchestrated my death.”
With each statement, Michael’s professional facade cracked further, revealing genuine distress, but he eventually nodded in reluctant agreement to her terms.
They settled into the antiseptic waiting room chairs, silence stretching between them as surgery continued behind closed doors.
for the twenty–first time–nearly three hours had elapsed–the operating room doors
gaze swept the waiting area until it found her, his eyes immediately sharpening
word escaped
Luigi reached for her the moment the medical staff departed, his trembling hands gripping hers with desperate intensity.
17:23
Black Swan’s Final Revenge Pirouette:
12.24
breaking. “I was sure I’d hallucinated you. I kept telling them to make sure you
as if expecting her
still within his grasp, her voice devoid
Confusion clouded his
hands from his grip, stepping back with
conversational, as if discussing the weather. “It gave me the freedom to build a life without looking over my
“Not many people could experience ninety–eight calculated humiliations from the person they trusted most and still remain standing in the same room with them without screaming. I consider it a personal
of color as the full implications registered–she had known. All along,
struggled upright, nearly tearing out
he begged, reaching for her. “It wasn’t–it started that
interrupted, glancing at her watch. “I have a performance tomorrow that
he pleaded, grabbing her wrist. “I can’t lose you again. Not when
go of me.” Her voice remained level.
frantically,
changed tactics. Her expression shifted subtly, taking on a weariness that penetrated his
dancers and thousands of
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