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
calculated cruelty of it all made her physically ill.
the betrayal infinitely more devastating. The 4
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 was 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.”
The hollow reassurance made her want to scream. A bitter laugh caught in her throat.
As long as he was around? Every ounce of pain she’d experienced over the past three years could be traced directly back to him. He wasn’t her protector–he was her tormentor.
Later that evening, Ariana was discharged.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk to call an Uber, a van screeched to a halt beside her. Before she could process what was happening, three men jumped out and grabbed her, one clamping a sweet–smelling cloth over her mouth and
nose.
TL:– Timo I Chose To Reclaim My Own Life
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Her last coherent thought before the darkness claimed her was a desperate prayer: Please let this just be random, not another one of Luigi’s games. Please let him find me.
When she regained consciousness, Ariana found herself in a seedy motel room, wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. Four rough–looking men surrounded her, their expressions making her skin crawl.
“Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” the largest one sneered, running a finger down her cheek. “Luigi’s little princess, all wrapped up like a present.”
“Please,” she whimpered, the fog still clearing from her mind, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Damn, she’s even hotter when she’s scared,” another one laughed, reaching for the buttons on her blouse. “That rich boy’s been hogging you all to himself.”
“Maybe after we’re done, we’ll take some pictures for your boyfriend,” a third one said, pulling out his phone. “Show him what a slut his girlfriend really is.”
Ariana fought desperately, twisting and kicking despite her restraints, but in her weakened state, she was no match for them. They laughed at her struggles, treating her resistance like foreplay.
As they tore at 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 door and save
her.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the door exploded inward, wood splintering from its hinges.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” Luigi’s voice was unrecognizable–a primal roar of pure rage that made even
Ariana freeze in shock.
The men scattered like çockroaches, stumbling over each other in their haste to escape the murderous fury radiating
from him.
Ariana curled into herself on the bed, violent tremors wracking her body. When she looked up at Luigi, what she saw stopped her heart–genuine fear in his eyes, raw panic, and something that looked dangerously close to devastation.
For that brief moment, it was like seeing an entirely different person.
“Ariana…” He rushed to her side, his hands visibly shaking as he reached for her.
But the trauma was too fresh. She flinched away instinctively, a broken sob escaping her lips as she pressed herself against the headboard.
The hurt that flashed across his face seemed genuine, but before she could process it, the room began to spin, black spots dancing across her vision. The combination of medication, trauma and exhaustion finally overtook her, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.
Some time later, Ariana drifted back to awareness in what she recognized as a hospital room.
Before she could open her eyes, she heard voices just outside her door–Luigi and his friends, speaking in hushed but
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Chapter 4
heated tones.
“What the actual fuck was that?” Luigi’s voice was barely controlled, trembling with rage. “Which one of you geniuses thought hiring men to sexually assault her was part of the plan?”
“Chill, bro,” Tyler’s voice was dismissive. “We thought you wanted to speed things up. Ninety–seven down, just two more to go, then you’re free to be with Leila. We were doing you a solid.”
“By having her raped?” Luigi’s voice rose sharply, making the others fall silent. “I never authorized anyone to fucking touch her like that!”
Blake sounded genuinely confused: “Dude, what’s the big deal? Isn’t this whole thing about making her life hell? Why are you suddenly so precious about how we do it?”
There was a crash–like something being violently overturned–followed by tense silence.
Ariana strained to hear, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.
“I don’t know,” Luigi finally said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I just don’t fucking know anymore.”
Derek’s voice took on a cautious tone: “Luigi… this isn’t like you. When was the last time you even spoke to Leila? The way you looked when you carried Ariana in here… holy shit, man. Tell me you haven’t actually fallen for her. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
The silence stretched as Luigi struggled to answer Derek’s question.
Why was he so angry?
He genuinely didn’t understand his own reaction.
For years, Ariana had chased after him relentlessly, always like a bright ray of sunshine following him everywhere. The day he finally agreed to date her–part of the revenge plan–she had stood frozen in disbelief before breaking into tears of pure joy. Her face in that moment was etched into his memory.
But he had never seen her like this before.
Lying there in that motel room, like a withered rose, completely devoid of the vibrant spirit that had defined her. Her usual warmth extinguished, leaving behind only a hollow shell.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had panicked at the sight. Something primal inside him had recoiled ating her reduced to that state–especially knowing he was the architect of her suffering.
When she looked at him with those lifeless eyes before passing out, something in his chest had constricted painfully.
As his silence lengthened, his friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly sensing something had fundamentally changed.
“Holy shit,” Josh whispered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and alarm. “You’ve actually fallen for her, haven’t you? The ultimate player, caught in his own game.”
Chapter 4
Luigi ran his hands through his hair, unable to meet their eyes or form a coherent response to the accusation that, for the first time, struck uncomfortably close to home.
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
