Chapter 1

When Ariana Collins rushed to the hospital after hearing that Luigi Maggiore had crashed his Maserati and was bleeding out, she immediately donated a full liter of blood for him.

His friends urged her to go home and take a break, and she reluctantly agreed. But just as she reached the doorway, anxiety gripped her heart and pulled her back.

Turning around, she witnessed a nurse dumping all five bags of blood—her blood—straight into the garbage bin!

At that moment, thunderous laughter erupted from a nearby room, so loud it could've shattered windows.

"Jesus Christ, Ariana Collins fell for our bullshit again!" a voice howled. "What a fucking idiot!"

Ariana froze, staring through the half-open door. Among the crowd, she immediately spotted him.

Luigi was lounging casually against the headboard, scrolling through his iPhone, barely paying attention to his friends. Though his face was partially blocked, she could still make out his chiseled jawline and perfect features—

He didn't have a single scratch on him!

Ariana blinked hard, convinced her distress was making her hallucinate.

"Fellas, let's count," drawled one guy she recognized as Tyler, Luigi's lacrosse teammate. "How many times have we screwed with her now?"

"The first time," chimed in Blake, another rich kid from Luigi's circle, "we told her Luigi lost the Tiffany bracelet he was supposedly getting her. She spent the entire night searching in a blizzard. Even with a 104-degree fever, the dumb bitch wouldn't quit."

"Remember the second time?" Derek, Luigi's roommate, leaned forward eagerly. "We convinced her Luigi was in a coma. She spent all night at St. Patrick's Cathedral lighting candles and sobbing to some priest. Got holy water and a blessed rosary. Luigi gave the water to my dog and gifted the rosary to Leila Brown the next day!"

"My personal favorite," smirked Josh, "was when we framed her for plagiarism and nearly got her expelled. The way she begged the academic board—pathetic! Still makes me laugh thinking about it."

"This blood donation scam makes ninety-six," Tyler calculated, checking something on his phone. "Just three more pranks, and our revenge tour wraps up. Not bad for four years of entertainment. Worth every minute, right, Luigi?"

Luigi barely looked up from his phone, his voice detached and bored. "Whatever. As long as I can finally ditch her after we hit ninety-nine."

"It's what she deserves," Blake insisted. "Remember how she beat Leila for that dance scholarship? Leila cried for days. Nobody messes with your dream girl and gets away with it."

"That's why it's been so perfect," Derek added. "Dating her just to systematically destroy her? Pure genius, man. Too bad it's almost over. We'll need to find someone else to torture soon."

A deafening ringing filled Ariana's ears, like a bomb had detonated inside her head.

Her chest constricted so violently she thought she might be having a heart attack. She clutched at her sternum, doubling over to gasp for air, her lungs burning as though filled with acid.

The words kept replaying in her mind like a nightmarish loop. Luigi was only dating her for revenge. Four years of what she thought was love—just an elaborate scheme to break her.

He knew exactly how desperately she loved him...

Luigi Maggiore, Boston's unofficial prince. Student body president with a 4.0 GPA headed to Harvard Law. Heir to the Maggiore real estate empire. With his Mediterranean good looks, he could've stepped off a Calvin Klein billboard. "One look at Luigi Maggiore and you're ruined for all other men"—that's what everyone said.

And like a moth to flame, she'd fallen just like all the rest.

She had chased him relentlessly for three years, sacrificing every shred of her dignity, while he remained coldly indifferent—until one day, when he miraculously accepted her confession.

She thought her persistence had finally melted his heart. Instead, it had all been a calculated game of destruction.

The truth crushed her: he'd initially rejected her because his heart belonged to someone else.

He only agreed to date her later because she had beaten Leila Brown in that crucial dance competition and made his precious dream girl cry.

For revenge, he pretended to love her, orchestrating ninety-nine humiliations to systematically destroy her soul piece by piece.

Ariana's tears streamed down uncontrollably, her throat constricting as if invisible hands were choking her.

She stared at the group laughing without restraint, at Luigi's indifferent face, and suddenly felt hollowed out completely.

She had given him everything—her love, her trust, her very being—only for him to crush it all beneath his Italian leather shoes and toss it away like yesterday's garbage.

Just then, Josh noticed movement at the door and glanced over.

Ariana spun around and fled.

She walked faster and faster until she was sprinting down the hospital corridors, past startled nurses and visitors.

She had no destination—she just needed to escape this place, escape Luigi, escape the smoking ruins of her reality.

When her legs finally gave out in some distant corner of the hospital garden, she collapsed onto a bench as tears flooded from her eyes like a broken dam.

She covered her face with trembling hands, her body convulsing with silent sobs that tore through her like physical pain. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of glass.

God, Ariana, you pathetic, gullible fool.

After what seemed like hours, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

With shaking hands, she answered to hear her mother's gentle voice.

"Ariana, sweetheart, your father and I are finalizing our arrangements to move to London next week. The Royal Academy of Music is eager for him to start the spring term. Are you absolutely certain you don't want to join us? They have excellent dance programs there too."

Her father, a celebrated violin professor at Juilliard, had received this prestigious appointment months ago. They had planned to relocate as a family, but Ariana had delayed and made excuses repeatedly, unable to bear leaving Luigi. She'd even considered staying in Boston permanently, transferring to a local college just to be near him.

Now, the irony of it all cut deeper than any knife could.

"No," she wiped away her tears with such force it hurt her skin. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her voice emerged raw but unwavering, "Mom, Dad, I'm coming with you to London."

Chapter 2

Her mother's excited voice immediately came through the phone: "That's fantastic, sweetheart! We'll start the paperwork right away—once it's done, there's no turning back. It's a point of no return."

She gripped her phone tightly, fingertips trembling, but her voice remained unshakeable: "I won't change my mind."

Her mother was about to hang up but hesitated, cautiously asking: "What about that boyfriend of yours? Didn't you chase after him forever? I thought you were head over heels for him."

The word "boyfriend" felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

Ariana's mind instantly flashed back to the hospital room—the cruel laughter, Luigi sprawled carelessly on the bed scrolling through social media, his friends' vicious mockery, and the devastating realization that he'd wasted three years dating her solely to execute some twisted revenge plan for Leila Brown.

Her heart constricted so violently she could barely breathe, like someone had reached into her chest and was squeezing it with bare hands.

"I'm done with him," she heard herself say, her voice raw but eerily steady. "Completely done. Forever."

After hanging up, Ariana stood motionless on the sidewalk, letting the bitter wind whip through her hair. She stared up at the bleak gray sky, drew in a deep breath that burned her lungs, and turned toward what she had foolishly called "home."

The moment she pushed open the door, the familiar scent punched her in the gut.

Ariana froze in the entryway, staring at the living room she knew so well, feeling like she was trapped in someone else's nightmare.

This was Luigi's apartment—the one he'd casually tossed her a key to after finally acknowledging her feelings.

That day, he had leaned against the doorframe with that trademark smirk and shrugged: "Wanna shack up?"

Back then, she'd blushed like an idiot, heart soaring with joy, believing it was the beginning of their love story rather than what it actually was—convenient access for his ongoing psychological torture campaign.

She had spent countless nights lying beside him, dreaming about their future wedding in this very living room, picturing their children running around, fantasizing about growing old together in this space.

Now those memories were like acid in her veins.

Moving in together? Just another calculated move to maximize her pain when the final blow came.

She couldn't comprehend the depths of his obsession with Leila—to waste three years of his life with someone he despised, to live with her, to sleep with her night after night...

All to build the perfect illusion before destroying her completely.

For the next three days, Ariana didn't so much as text Luigi at the hospital.

She locked herself in the apartment and systematically purged every trace of him from her life.

She found the journal where she'd documented her pathetic crush—a thick, worn notebook with every page filled with lovestruck ramblings.

"OMG saw Luigi in the library today!!! White button-down + those jeans = DYING. Had to pretend to read because I couldn't stop staring!"

"HE ACTUALLY SPOKE TO ME TODAY!!! Just asked me to pass his coffee but I swear our fingers touched and there was a MOMENT. Haven't washed my hand yet lol."

"I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. He said YES. ME. Luigi Maggiore is dating ME. Is this real life?? I'm literally shaking writing this!!!"

Ariana flipped through page after cringe-worthy page, tears streaming down her face, each drop burning like fire.

She threw the journal into a garbage bag with such force it tore through the plastic, her hands shaking with anger—at him, but mostly at herself.

Next came the gifts she'd spent thousands on—

The sterling silver tie clip she'd saved three months for. The limited-edition watch she'd stood in line overnight to purchase. The designer jacket that cost more than her rent. Each item representing months of sacrifice and planning on her part, probably tossed in a drawer and forgotten on his.

Finally, the dozens of photos she'd secretly taken and printed of him.

Pictures of Luigi giving campaign speeches for student president, dominating the basketball court, holding court in hallways surrounded by admirers—each one had once made her heart flutter like a trapped bird.

She dumped everything into the trash, methodically erasing every physical reminder of her former delusion.

By the evening of the third day, Ariana had finally purged the last item.

Standing in the center of the now-barren living room, she felt a strange lightness wash over her, like shedding a skin that had grown too tight.

Just then, the front door swung open and Luigi walked in.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the noticeably emptier space. "What the hell did you throw out?" His tone was sharp, demanding.

Ariana looked up, meeting his gaze without flinching: "Nothing important. Just garbage I should've gotten rid of years ago."

Luigi stepped closer, irritation evident in his voice: "I was in the fucking hospital after a serious accident. Where were you?"

Ariana's lips curved into a hollow smile, her voice ice-cold: "You're walking around just fine, aren't you? Guess it wasn't that serious after all."

Luigi froze, clearly caught off guard by her tone. He recovered quickly, softening his approach: "I heard you donated blood for me. I was worried about you, so I came to check."

His gaze dropped to her arm, his voice dropping to that seductive murmur she once found irresistible: "Are you in pain?"

Ariana pulled her arm away like his gaze might contaminate her. "No," she said flatly, as if speaking to a stranger.

Luigi's brow furrowed deeply, clearly unsettled by this new version of her: "What the fuck happened while I was gone? You're like a completely different person."

Ariana's lips twitched into a smile that didn't reach her eyes: "Different? How so?"

Luigi didn't answer, but they both knew exactly what had changed.

The old Ariana had looked at him like he hung the moon and stars. She'd once spent three straight nights by his bedside when he had a common cold, checking his temperature every hour, making homemade soup, practically worshipping at the altar of his minor discomfort.

Yet now, after what was supposed to be a life-threatening accident, she hadn't even bothered to call.

Luigi's intense gaze searched her face, hunting for some clue to this sudden transformation.

His voice dropped to that practiced, intimate tone he used when he wanted something: "You seem stressed. My boys are throwing me a welcome-back rager tonight. Come with me?"

Chapter 3

Before Ariana could refuse, Luigi had already grabbed her wrist and practically dragged her to his Tesla.

The car pulled up outside The Box, Manhattan's most exclusive members-only club. After parking, Luigi circled around to her side and opened the door with a theatrical flourish that once would have made her heart flutter.

Ariana gave him a flat, empty stare as she stepped out.

The moment they entered the dimly lit space, Ariana's attention was immediately drawn to a familiar figure.

Leila Brown.

She wore a champagne silk slip dress with a dangerously high slit, Louboutins, and just enough diamonds to look effortless. Her glossy hair fell in loose waves, and her calculated smile drew everyone in as she held court in the VIP section, cocktail in hand.

Leila had been Luigi's childhood friend. Though they had grown up together, during the years Ariana had dated Luigi, the two women had never crossed paths.

So she'd never suspected that Luigi had been obsessed with Leila all along.

When Leila spotted them, her eyes flickered with recognition, then narrowed into the slightest smirk—a look that confirmed everything. She'd been in on the 99-part revenge scheme all along.

This is revenge #97, Ariana realized with stomach-turning clarity. Coming here was a setup.

Luigi also noticed Leila's presence. His fingers tensed around Ariana's before he abruptly dropped her hand like it had burned him.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear: "Gotta take this call. Network with people or whatever. Back in five."

Ariana stood frozen, watching Luigi's retreating figure, a cold emptiness spreading through her chest. The casualness of his dismissal felt like another slap in the face.

Before she could react, Leila was already gliding across the room with runway precision, following directly in Luigi's wake.

Their silhouettes—one leading, one following—disappeared around a corner, no doubt heading somewhere private.

Ariana had no time to dwell on what they might be doing together, as Luigi's friends quickly surrounded her.

"Well, if it isn't Luigi's favorite charity case!" Tyler's voice boomed as he shoved a glass of something amber-colored into her hand.

Ariana shook her head firmly. "I don't drink."

"Don't be such a fucking buzzkill," Blake sneered. "What's wrong, afraid Daddy Luigi will get mad?" They all laughed, exchanging knowing glances.

"Or maybe she can't handle her liquor," Derek added, pushing the glass toward her lips. "Little Miss Perfect probably gets wasted off one shot."

Ariana tried to step back, but Josh blocked her path. "Either drink it or wear it, sweetheart."

When she tried to break free, Tyler gave her a hard shove. "Oops, my bad."

"Ah—!"

She cried out as she lost her balance and fell straight into the adjacent infinity pool.

The freezing water engulfed her instantly.

She couldn't swim. Her limbs flailed desperately, but her clothes quickly became waterlogged, dragging her down.

Water rushed into her nose and mouth, burning her lungs. The club lights above the surface blurred and distorted as her consciousness began to fade, darkness closing in until everything went black.

...

When Ariana next opened her eyes, she found herself back in the bedroom of Luigi's apartment. Her head pounded with each heartbeat, and her body burned as if she were being roasted alive.

She struggled to focus her vision and saw Luigi sitting by the bed, holding a glass of water and some pills.

"You're burning up. Take these," Luigi said, his voice soft with what might have seemed like concern—if she didn't know better now.

Ariana hazily accepted the pills and swallowed them with the water.

Too weak to think clearly, she only registered that her throat felt like she'd swallowed glass and her body seemed to have turned to concrete.

She closed her eyes, wanting to escape back into unconsciousness, but her temperature kept climbing, something scorching through her veins.

Some time later—minutes or hours, she couldn't tell—she forced her eyes open again and realized Luigi was gone.

Of course, she thought bitterly. He can't even be bothered to maintain the charade anymore.

She struggled to sit up, touching her forehead. It was terrifyingly hot.

She knew she couldn't wait any longer. She needed medical help.

With trembling fingers, she ordered an Uber to the nearest ER.

Ariana dragged her leaden body through the hospital doors, barely making it to the reception desk before a nurse rushed to help her.

The doctor immediately put her on an IV drip, which finally brought her fever down slightly.

After examining her thoroughly, the doctor frowned: "Ms. Collins, your temperature was 104.3 when you came in. You're bordering on pneumonia from aspiration. Why didn't you come in sooner?"

Ariana leaned weakly against the hospital bed, her voice barely audible: "I thought the medicine would help."

The doctor looked concerned. "What medicine were you taking?"

Ariana pulled a small bottle from her pocket and handed it to the doctor. "Aspirin. My boyfriend gave it to me."

The doctor opened the bottle, examined its contents, and his expression darkened: "These aren't aspirin at all. The bottle is labeled correctly, but these are nothing but sugar pills. Taking these instead of actual medication could have been extremely dangerous in your condition."

Ariana's heart plummeted, her fingers trembling slightly.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed repeatedly.

She weakly raised her hand to check it. A series of WhatsApp notifications lit up her screen.

They were from a group chat with Luigi's friends.

Tyler: Revenge #97 = EPIC WIN!!! ???

Blake: Whoever came up with the pool + fake meds combo deserves a fucking medal! First we "accidentally" push her in, then Luigi swoops in with sugar pills ? She's gotta be DYING rn

Josh: Luigi's face when she swallowed those pills tho ??

Derek: HOLY SHIT DELETE THIS! WRONG GROUP! SHE CAN SEE THESE!!! ???