Page 106 of Twisted Addiction
“So,” he said, tone sharpening, “did you do it? Did you serve the bastard?”
I laughed bitterly. “Oh, I did. He didn’t even blink—just ripped the papers apart and told me no court on earth could undo what he owns.”
“Typical Dmitri,” Alexei muttered.
I exhaled, sinking back against the pillows. “A man like Dmitri doesn’t accept anything quietly.”
“You did your part by serving him,” Alexei said, his voice shifting to a calm, precise authority. “That’s all the court requires for now. I’ll have my team draft a new petition for dissolution and deliver it to his counsel. He’ll be compelled to appear in court, but you only need to sign the final documents. The rest—jurisdiction, affidavits, filings—my team handles it. He can’t dodge this forever.”
I pressed the phone to my ear, heart still racing, half in hope, half in dread.
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice fragile, barely threading through the darkness of my room. “I’m traveling tomorrow. Maybe—if I come back—I’ll sign the papers.”
“Hold on.” Alexei’s tone sharpened, cutting through my haze. “You’re traveling?” Surprise and alarm tangled in his words.
“Yeah,” I said, my throat tight. “He said I need a break. Time with my family.”
“Dmitri Volkov doesn’t give breaks, Penelope. He sets traps.”
“I know,” I replied. “But I’ll still go. Even pawns can move off the board.”
A pause. Heavy. Calculated. “I think I know why he’s letting you go,” Alexei said finally, and my heart stuttered against my ribs.
“Why?” My voice was small, hesitant, yet curiosity pried me upright, the bed suddenly too soft.
“His ex-fiancée—Seraphina—is back,” he said, flat, as if stating a fact that should have already been obvious. “He’s letting you go so he can marry her. If he doesn’t, he risks losing everything—his empire, Lake Como’s support, his power.”
My throat closed.
“He can’t keep both of you, not when the board and the families are watching. You’re the sin he has to erase to save his crown.”
The words landed in my chest like a hammer, each blow sharp and undeniable.
I clutched the phone, knuckles whitening, breath caught.
“Seraphina... his ex-fiancée?” I whispered, the syllables tasting like ash.
“Yeah,” Alexei confirmed, calm, unflinching.
I felt something snap inside me—a fissure of disbelief and fury.
Every promise Dmitri had made, every vow of obsession, every declaration that his heart belonged solely to me... all lies. Twisted, meticulous lies.
And Giovanni—oh God, Giovanni—had shielded me from the truth, lied for him, preserved the illusion. His loyalty had been a lie, a tool to control me, to manipulate me like a chess piece.
“Why exile me before ending it?” I asked, my voice trembling, the room spinning with the weight of betrayal. “If he wants freedom, he could have it with a signature. So why this spectacle? Why pretend mercy when it’s just another punishment?”
Alexei’s voice sharpened. “Because divorcing you while you’re under his roof would make him look heartless. But sending you away first? That’s strategy. He gets to play the grieving husband—‘she left me, she needed space.’ He stays clean. You become the ghost.”
The call ended before I realized I’d moved.
The phone slipped from my hand and hit the mattress with a dull thud.
The room tilted, blurred at the edges, my breath catching somewhere between a sob and a gasp.
My chest felt hollow—split open, raw—like his words had carved something vital out of me. He was replacing me. Rewriting me out of his story. And I was the ghost left behind.
I clenched my fist so tightly the skin of my palm burned, fingernails biting through.
