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

Chapter 18

For the next two weeks, Ariana immersed herself completely in the remaining performances, leaving no mental space to dwell on Luigi Maggiore or their unsettling reunion.

As the final curtain fell on their Boston engagement, she welcomed her first real break in months, planning a solo road trip along the New England coastline

Just as she was comparing rental cars on her phone, an unfamiliar number lit up her screen. Against her better judgment, she answered.

“Miss Collins,” Michael’s voice was tight with barely suppressed urgency. “There’s been an incident with Mr. Maggiore. He’s in a bad state. Please–if you could just come to the estate-”

Having survived three years of Luigi’s elaborate manipulations, Ariana immediately recognized the familiar pattern of another manufactured “emergency.”

“I’m not qualified to handle whatever crisis Luigi’s created for himself,” she replied evenly. “That stopped. being my job when he arranged my death.”

Before Michael could launch into whatever script he’d prepared, she ended the call and promptly blocked the number, dropping her phone into her bag with a mixture of irritation and finality.

Twenty minutes later, settled in the back seat of an Uber, Ariana gave the driver the address of the rental agency before closing her eyes for a much–needed power nap.

She awoke disoriented some time later to the driver announcing their arrival. Still groggy, she paid through the app and stepped out, only to find herself standing before the imposing iron gates of the Maggiore estate instead of the rental car office.

Realization hit with a jolt of anger. Either the driver had deliberately ignored her instructions, or someone had intercepted and changed her ride details remotely.

Just as she pulled out her phone to order another Uber, the estate’s massive entry doors swung open. Davis, the Maggiore family’s long–serving butler, emerged with several staff members, their faces lined

with evident relief.

steps. “Thank God you’ve come. Please–it’s

escorted through the marble foyer she had once

over her. Her hasty “death”

Swan’s Final Revenge Pirouette: The

draped over the sofa arm, even the half finished cup of tea she’d left on the mantle the

through a museum exhibit dedicated to her former

elbow, explaining the situation as he guided her

staircase.

at the hospital,” the older man explained in hushed tones. “He’s refused all food for days, fired

I had no right to bring you here under false pretenses, miss, but he’s been talking about-” he hesitated, “-permanent solutions. I feared what might happen

of her insisted this was just another performance designed to manipulate her back into

him beyond all reason–couldn’t help wondering

three years of methodical humiliation then? How could love and such calculated cruelty possibly

master suite, his hand hesitating on the ornate handle before gently pushing the door open. Immediately, the overpowering stench of bourbon and unwashed

the afternoon sun. In the dim light, she could just make out a figure slumped against the foot of the bed, surrounded by empty bottles and what

“Well, he’s clearly still alive. I don’t see how my

eyes widened in alarm as she pivoted to leave. “Sir!” he called