CHAPTER 07
"Zoey, listen to me," Elise's voice crackled through the phone, laced with a calm that contrasted the tempest raging within me. "Revenge is a seductive poison, but it won't heal the wounds. It will only fester and consume you."
"But they deserve to pay!" I cried, my voice thick with unshed tears and the bitter tang of betrayal. "They took everything from me, from my family!"
"And destroying them will bring your loved ones back?" Elise's question was sharp, laced with a truth that hung heavy in the air. I didn't have an answer, not a good one.
"No," I whispered, the lie catching in my throat.
"Then what do you hope to achieve, Zoey?"
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant hum of the city and the ragged gasps of my own breath. Elise's words, though harsh, had struck a chord. The image of Marco's kind eyes, filled with love and trust, flashed in my mind, a stark contrast to the cold fury that had been consuming me.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
"Then take some time to figure it out," Elise urged. "Don't rush into something you might regret. But remember, true justice isn't served in the flames of vengeance. It's found in the pursuit of truth and accountability."
Her words hung heavy in the air, a seed of doubt blossoming within me. But the embers of vengeance still flickered, fueled by the years of simmering pain. I needed more, needed to see their faces contorted in guilt, to hear their confessions echo in the opulent halls of their summer gala.
"I'll get close," I finally said, my voice hardening with resolve. "I'll infiltrate their world, gather evidence, and expose them for who they truly are. That's the justice they deserve."
Elise sighed, a sound of weary acceptance. "If that's what you choose, then be careful, Zoey. Don't let the darkness consume you. Remember, there's still good left in you. Don't lose yourself in the process of trying to destroy them."
Her words were a stark warning, a chilling reminder of the tightrope I was walking. But I was determined. This wasn't just about vengeance anymore; it was about uncovering the truth, about finding a semblance of peace amidst the ashes of my loss.
The following months were a blur of calculated moves and carefully constructed facades. I clung to Marco, feeding his affection, all the while weaving a web of lies that drew me deeper into the opulent world of the Montefalco family. I learned their secrets, their vulnerabilities, their hidden agendas. The more I saw, the more the anger simmered, but alongside it, a flicker of something else ignited - a morbid fascination with their twisted lives.
The summer gala arrived, a glittering monstrosity draped in secrets and champagne wishes. Marco, oblivious to the serpent he held close, beamed with pride as he introduced me to his family. Their faces, etched with arrogance and entitlement, mirrored the darkness I had sought to expose.
But as the night wore on, amidst the clinking glasses and whispered conversations, a seed of doubt took root. The casual cruelty I witnessed, the callous disregard for human lives – it wasn't just the Montefalco. It was a game everyone played, a dance of power and privilege where the weak were trampled underfoot.
And in that moment, a chilling realization dawned on me. Vengeance wouldn't dismantle this system, this web of corruption that had ensnared my family and countless others. It would only perpetuate it, making me another monster in their gilded cage.
The carefully crafted mask I wore began to slip, replaced by a cold, calculating expression that sent shivers down spines. I moved amongst them, no longer a ghost, but a predator, gathering evidence, not for their downfall, but for something far greater.
As the music swelled and Marco twirled me onto the dance floor, his eyes filled with a love laced with suspicion, I knew the game had changed. The truth I sought wasn't just about the Montefalco's crimes; it was about exposing the rot at the heart of their world, a truth that could bring not just justice, but change.
A tremor of unease shot through me as Marco twirled me, his eyes searching mine with a mixture of concern and dawning suspicion. My carefully constructed facade, the one I'd worn for months, felt precariously close to crumbling.
"Zoey," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clinking glasses and murmured conversations, "you seem...different tonight."
I plastered on a smile, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Just the excitement of the gala, I suppose. All these fascinating people..." My gaze swept over the opulent gathering, landing deliberately on Marco's parents, their expressions guarded and tense.
"Speaking of fascinating people," I continued, my voice adopting a nonchalant tone, "have you ever heard of the Montecillo family?"
The air crackled with static. A vein pulsed visibly on Marco's father's temple, and his mother's perfectly manicured hand tightened around her champagne flute.
"The Montecillos?" Marco echoed, his voice strained. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," I shrugged, feigning innocence. "They seem to be quite prominent in certain circles, yet I never hear them mentioned here."
A heavy silence descended, broken only by the distant melody of the string quartet. Marco's parents exchanged a furtive glance, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and anger.
"The Montecillos are...not part of our world, Zoey," Marco's mother finally interjected, her voice clipped and curt. "It's best you don't concern yourself with them."
Her words only fueled my curiosity, igniting a spark of defiance within me. The Montecillos were clearly a sensitive topic, a name that sent shivers down their spines. And that, in itself, was all the confirmation I needed.
"But why?" I pressed, my smile widening, pushing the boundaries of propriety. "Surely there's no harm in a little harmless curiosity, is there?"
Marco's grip tightened on my hand, his knuckles turning white. "Zoey, please," he pleaded, his voice laced with a tremor of desperation. "Drop it."
Ignoring his pleas, I turned my full attention back to his parents, my gaze unwavering. "The Montecillos seem like important people. Perhaps they could shed some light on a few...discrepancies I've noticed regarding certain business dealings."
The accusation hung heavy in the air, the music fading into the background. The color drained from Marco's parents' faces, replaced by a stark pallor.
"What...what discrepancies?" his father stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Let's just say my curiosity extends beyond mere social gatherings. I have a knack for finding hidden truths, wouldn't you agree?"
A bead of sweat trickled down Marco's temple. His parents exchanged another panicked glance, their carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of my scrutiny.
A low growl escaped Marco's throat, his jaw clenching tight. "Zoey, this isn't a game. Stop it!
As Marco's frustrated growl echoed in my ears, I held his gaze for a beat longer, savoring the tremor of unease flickering in his eyes. Then, with a nonchalant shrug, I swept away from him, my smile widening into a sly grin.
"Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome," I purred, my voice dripping with mock innocence. "Excitement does tend to cloud one's judgment, wouldn't you agree?"
Before Marco could respond, I slipped away from the throng, weaving through the bewildered guests like a phantom. The music seemed to dim, the laughter fading into a distant hum as my focus narrowed to a singular goal – escape.
Reaching the opulent foyer, I scanned the room for a discreet exit. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a stark contrast to the practiced calm I projected. Just as I spotted a set of double doors leading to a secluded terrace, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Zoey, wait!" Marco's voice, laced with urgency, sent a jolt through me.
"I believe I've overindulged in the festivities," I lied, turning to face him with a playful pout. "Fresh air seems most necessary at this point."
He hesitated, his gaze searching mine, his brow furrowed in suspicion. "But—"
"Don't worry," I cut him off, batting my eyelashes in mock flirtation. "I'm not going far. Just need a moment to compose myself."
His conflicted expression softened, replaced by a hint of his usual adoration. "Alright," he finally relented, a trace of disappointment lingering in his voice. "But promise you won't disappear again?"
"My word is my bond, amore," I breathed, leaning in to brush my lips against his cheek, the phantom sting of betrayal bitter on my tongue.
As he released me, I slipped through the double doors, the cool night air washing over me like a balm. Stepping onto the terrace, I allowed myself a moment to savor the silence, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars beneath the velvet cloak of the night.
But the respite was short-lived. The faint murmur of voices, laced with panic, drifted through the open windows from the room I'd just left. Curiosity gnawed at me, urging me closer.
Pressing my ear against the cool glass, I strained to hear the snippets of their conversation.
"...who was that girl?"
"...never seen her before..."
"...Montecillos...deep trouble..."
"...investigating...loose ends..."