Page 124 of Twisted Addiction

My hand trembled as it drifted to my stomach.

The truth hit me in one clean, brutal wave: I was bound to Dmitri in ways no signature, no country, no distance could sever.The child in my womb. The love I could never kill. The memories stolen from me but still haunting my bones.

I closed my eyes, letting tears soak into the pillow.

Chapter 28

PENELOPE

Then, shaking, I grabbed my burner phone and dialed Giovanni’s number. The line rang—once, twice, thrice—then fell silent. I tried again. And again. Nothing.

Had I misdialed?

Had he blocked me?

Panic coiled in my stomach like smoke, tightening with every failed attempt. I had no money, no resources, no one to turn to.

I sank back against the bed, clutching the quilt, my mind spinning.

Fragments of erased memories, suppressed horrors, the darkness of Lake Como—they suddenly felt safer. At least there, I understood my enemies. Here... my enemies were my parents. The thought of memory manipulation, of someone wielding the power to wipe pieces of my life, chilled me to the bone.

With trembling hands, I dragged my bag closer and began repacking, fingers shaking so violently I nearly dropped everything. As I zipped a side pocket, something gleamed in the dim light—a black credit card, embossed with DMITRI VOLKOV.

My chest tightened.

He’d left it in my bag—a silent message. A lifeline. Freedom without him. Relief should have surged, but it didn’t. Instead, grief struck like a fist.

He was truly done with me: no apology, no farewell, no chance to reclaim what we had lost.

I pressed the card to my chest, my fingers curling around the edges. “Is that it?” I whispered aloud, my voice rough. “Is this all I get? A card? A number? A way to survive without you?” My voice rose in frustration, cracking. “After everything... after what we lost... this is it?”

I laughed then, a bitter, hollow sound, shaking my head. “You left me a card, and nothing more. You didn’t even say you’re sorry. You... you just... sent me away.”

Tears streaked down my face, furious, blurring the world into molten light. I pressed the black card against my forehead, its edge biting into my skin like a brand. My voice broke in the empty room, shaking.

“You think this fixes anything?” I hissed. “You think money erases what you did to me? What they did to me?” My fingers curled around the card until it bent, trembling. “This doesn’t make you redeemable, Dmitri. You can’t buy forgiveness. You can’t buy me back.”

A shudder ran through me.

I swallowed hard, voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m alone. I always have been.”

My fingers trembled over the card.

I couldn’t stay. Not here. Not with parents who had drugged me, used me, killed for power.

Nightfall came, the mansion’s lights dimming, guards’ voices fading to murmurs.

I remembered the paths I’d taken as a teenager, sneaking out to meet Dmitri under the moon, dodging my father’s security with a mixture of fear and thrill.

Tonight, I would do the same—but this time, survival and freedom were at stake.

At midnight, I moved.

Small bag slung over my shoulder, every step silent, every breath measured.

I crept to a side window in the hallway, its glass cold against my fingers. Fingers trembling, I grabbed a letter opener from my desk and pried it open. The frame groaned, protesting, and my stomach twisted with fear that a guard might hear, that everything would be over before it began.

I slipped onto the grass below, the night air biting through my gown, making it cling to my arms and legs.