His Love Was My Executioner

Percival sped away, and I had to use all my spectral strength just to keep up.

I watched him carefully retrieve the tiramisu, placing it securely under the car's air conditioning vent so it wouldn't melt.

I remembered how I used to pester him for dessert, and he would always be so clumsy, jostling the box and ruining the cake.

It was only after my painstaking, word-for-word instructions that he finally learned how to keep a dessert perfectly intact.

He didn't even pause, rushing from the garage straight into the house.

Back to the villa that had been ours.

The moment he opened the door, a wave of disorientation washed over me.

It was the villa I had personally overseen the decoration of, yet in just six months, it had become completely unrecognizable.

The warm, comfortable Italian style was gone, replaced by a cold, harsh, modern minimalist design.

The classic velvet sofa was now a metal monstrosity with rigid lines.

Even our marital bed, where Percival and I had spent our most intimate moments, was gone.

It had been replaced by a lifeless, black king-sized bed.

Bitterness rose in my throat like bile. I remembered how I had once wanted to buy a classical mural to lift my spirits.

He had been engrossed in family business and had vetoed the idea without a second thought.

"What are you, an old woman? People will laugh at us for having that junk on the walls."

I had no choice but to concede, and in the end, I never bought it.

But now, six months later, the house was filled with the cold elements he had once claimed to admire.

He really had changed.

My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

Seeing him return, Calista jumped into his arms barefoot, and they tumbled onto the sofa, laughing.

"You're finally back. What did the FBI want?"

Calista blinked her dark eyes, but the smile dancing in them was bottomless.

"Nothing much. They were just asking about things from before."

"Was it about Liliana?"

The moment Calista spoke, Percival's smile vanished.

"Let's not talk about unpleasant things. The dessert is going to melt. You should eat it."

Percival swept her up in his arms and carried her to the dining table.

Calista picked at the tiramisu, her face a mask of fragile innocence.

"Percy, I know that even though I'm here with you, your heart isn't."

The man froze, as if she had struck a nerve.

"That's not true…"

But in my heart, a flicker of hope ignited in the desolate silence.

She said his heart was still with me?

Did Percival still care about me?

The next second, Calista looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

"But there's something I have to tell you."

"Back when you first got your diagnosis, I overheard Liliana on the phone. She was complaining that you were wasting her time... and that it would be better if you just died so she could inherit the family fortune…"

"I felt so awful for you then, which is why I insisted on staying by your side after she abandoned you…"

She cried pitifully.

"I know I can't measure up to her, but please, promise you won't push me away, okay?"

I lunged forward, shouting.

"That's not what happened! It wasn't like that at all!"

That day, I was so nervous about you I ran to the restroom to dry heave.

When I overheard the doctors discussing your condition, I fainted.

When I woke up, I was in the middle of nowhere, with only that monster to torment me day and night.

The memory of those unbearable days made the world spin before my eyes.

Percival's eyes widened, and then he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"So that's how it was. Calista, you're too kind. How could I ever betray your love?"

Rage flooded Percival's eyes as he cursed, the words torn from the depths of his soul.

"It's a shame I didn't die like she wished. Now I'm the one who wishes she were dead!"

"Even if I have to search to the ends of the earth, I'll find her and throw her into Lake Michigan to feed the fish!"

I laughed, and then I cried.

At that moment, how I wished I could take human form and tell him.

If I could see you again, I would be willing to die one more time.

But I would never have the chance.

Percival, you've already seen my corpse.

The atmosphere between them crackled, passion twisting into something raw and punishing. He shoved her onto the cold dining table, his hands tearing at her nurse's uniform. There was no tenderness, no kisses—only a brutal, animalistic possession. He gripped her hair, forcing her to take his furious thrusts, each one a punishing blow. Yet, through the violence, Calista moaned in perverse satisfaction, her nails digging into his back, drawing blood.

I kept a long, lonely vigil, my soul fraying at the edges, feeling as if it might dissipate into nothing.