Future Self’s Deadly Game

The day I inherited Grandpa's "Peacemaker," I received a call from myself, ten years in the future.

"Sienna, don't give that gun to Lorenzo."

I obeyed without question. That night, forced to use his faulty Glock, Lorenzo was beaten into a vegetative state during a duel.

Guilt nearly broke me, but my parents nursed me back to health. Or so I thought.

"You idiot," my future self sneered. "It was a lie to get you on the operating table. They want your heart for your brother!"

Finding a transplant agreement in my father's study, I publicly severed ties with the Morettis.

Only later, after Lorenzo died from rejection, did I learn they just needed my rare blood, not my heart.

I wanted to return and atone, but the phone rang again. "Your parents will kill you for honor. Don't go back."

I waited. But instead of assassins, news arrived: the Morettis had been slaughtered by rivals.

I bolted for home, only to be mowed down by a black sedan.

As I died, I couldn't understand why my future self had orchestrated my end.

Then I opened my eyes. I was back at the ceremony.

In my past life, on the day I received the pistol my grandfather left me, I got a call from my future self. I followed her every instruction, and it led to the destruction of my family.

This time, I thought I had made a completely different, safer choice.

"Sienna, listen to me. Lorenzo is going to ask for the gun later. You must not give it to him. He just wants to use it to settle a debt."

That chillingly familiar voice blasted through the phone. A shiver ran down my spine, and the Pinot Noir glass in my hand shattered on the floor.

"Miss Moretti, this Colt 'Peacemaker' was left to you by the old Don. It is a symbol of power."

Watching the family lawyer hand me the heavy, black walnut gun case, I finally knew for sure. I was reborn, sent back to the very day I received that call from my future self.

On the phone, my self from ten years in the future warned me not to agree to Lorenzo's request for the gun.

At first, I didn't believe her. Seeing that her number was identical to mine, I thought it was some kind of prank.

But when she reeled off my most shameful secrets, and even knew the passwords to the family's money laundering accounts, I had no choice but to believe.

She swore that if Lorenzo took my gun, the family would collapse that very night.

So, when Lorenzo called asking for the gun, I refused him flat out.

Enraged, Lorenzo stormed into the underground duel with his old Glock, the one with the worn-out firing pin.

The gun jammed. He was beaten into a vegetative state.

The talk on the street was that if he had been using my new gun, a weapon of its precision and power would never have failed him.

It felt as if I had personally destroyed my brother.

I cried until I passed out and spent three whole days confessing in the church.

But my parents, uncharacteristically, didn't scold me. They simply fed me soup and wiped away my tears.

Just as I thought our family bond had been restored, that phone rang again, its tone sending a chill down my spine.

"It's all an act! I thought they really cared about me back then, too. That's why I didn't suspect the wine they drugged."

"When I woke up, I was strapped to an operating table. They were going to cut out my heart and give it to Lorenzo."

Following her instructions, I found the transplant consent form in my mother's handbag.

Hysterical, I threw my parents out of my safe house. I didn't open the door even when they pounded on it all night in a violent downpour.

Later, Lorenzo died of massive blood loss, and only then did I learn the truth. That day, they had only wanted my blood for an emergency transfusion.

I was overwhelmed with regret. I wanted to go home and beg for their forgiveness on my knees, but the phone rang again.

"Don't you dare go! Don Luciano is out of his mind. He thinks you killed his heir. The moment you show your face, he'll drag you to hell himself for the sake of family honor."

I fell for her lies and backed down again, thinking I'd wait for things to blow over.

That very night, a group of masked assassins broke into the estate and gunned down my parents, who had been waiting in despair.

My world shattered. I threw caution to the wind and sprinted toward the estate, only to be hit by a speeding truck and torn apart.

In the moments before my consciousness faded, the voice on the other end was no longer my own. It was replaced by the vicious, triumphant laughter of a woman.

This time, to hell with the prophecies.

My life, and the life of the Moretti family, would be in my hands and my hands alone.

My thoughts snapped back to the present. Without a second of hesitation, I hung up on the voice that was still rambling in my ear.

I lit a slim cigarette and sent a text to Lorenzo:

"Hey, big bro. The 'Peacemaker' is yours. Take it to the duel tonight and blow their brains out."