BEYOND REVENGE

My mother's cries could still be heard echoing through the walls of our once quiet house on the day my life fell apart.

When it occurred, I was seventeen years old, old enough to comprehend but too young to handle it. Love was a constant presence in our little Milanese abode, where it existed in every nook and cranny, right up until that evening.

I couldn't believe that a few sheets of paper might spell the end of all I had ever known as I gazed at the police report in shaking hands. The sentences became hazy, but Giovanni De Luca's name was crystal clear.

The millionaire whose business prospered as my family was falling apart. They said it was an accident and that the explosion in the plant where my father worked was caused by the carelessness of his firm. However, mishaps did not result in girls becoming orphans or moms crying.

After the burial, I saw my mother slowly deteriorate into a shadow of the person she used to be. Her sorrow was a poison that consumed every fiber of her body until she was reduced to a shell.

And then she was gone too, six months later; her heart had just given out. The physicians stated as much. I was aware of this better. Similar to how he had stolen my father, Giovanni De Luca had taken her from me.

My existence became a chilly, spiteful murmur. I vowed to myself every night in the dark to make him pay as I muttered his name. He would suffer just like I had. And I would take everything from him when the time was perfect.

My strategy was straightforward: I would get to know him, infiltrate his life, and then surprise him with a surprise attack. However, Giovanni was not a guy that nobody like me could approach.

I had to change into someone he would see and find irresistible.

So I made all of my changes. His name was a byword for power in New York, so I came here from Milan. I adopted a new persona that was the farthest thing from the distraught daughter. I turned into Elena Rossi, a lady who made her way in the circles dominated by guys such as Giovanni.

I trained myself how to talk confidently when I didn't feel confident, to walk in high heels, and to smile when all I wanted to do was cry.

Before long, I managed to get his attention. A fortuitous meeting at a benefit event-I ensured it. Across the packed room, our eyes locked, and I saw the spark of curiosity in his gaze. Giovanni was tall, dark, and very attractive.

He exuded confidence and power, causing others to clam up whenever he walked into a room. He was everything I had imagined a guy to be. However, I also saw something else that chilled my blood. He was very vicious.

I did my part well, laughing at his jokes, acting delighted by his attention, and allowing him to believe he was in charge.

Notwithstanding, each time he made contact with my hand or moved in close to mutter something in my ear, I had to remind myself of my drive.

A week later, he asked me to dinner at this ultra-exclusive restaurant that didn't even have a name. With towering floor-to-ceiling windows allowing in the shining of city lights, we were seated in a private room.

Giovanni was amiable and focused, and I detested every minute of it.

However, I had to concede that he was proficient at the game. Had I not known any better, I may have thought he was interested in me.

"Elena, you're unlike other women I've met," he said, his voice silky and low. "I'm intrigued by something about you."

With a knot in my gut, I faked a grin. "Mr. De Luca, I could say the same thing about you."

He urged, reaching across the table to hold my hand, "Please, call me Giovanni." I had to battle the impulse to withdraw away from his warm touch.

I spoke it again, "Giovanni," feeling his name weighing heavily on my tongue. I was clutching his hand as if I didn't want to break it, yet here was the guy who had ruined my life.

The evening flew by with deliberate words and grins. I was tired by the time he escorted me to my apartment, but I also knew that I couldn't afford to down my guard.

As soon as we got to my door, Giovanni stated, "I had a wonderful time tonight, Elena." "I'm hoping we can do this soon again."

I forced myself to look him in the eye and nodded. "That would be nice."

With his lips grazing my cheek, he leaned in. Though it was a soft, even compassionate motion, my spine tingled with disgust. When he withdrew, I smiled on the inside, but I was screaming.

I fell into my bed as soon as he left, the mask I had been wearing all night coming off. Tears that I hadn't let fall for years started to seep into the cushion under my head.

This was only the start. I told myself that again. Giovanni De Luca would have to pay for his actions, but not before I got near enough to kill him.

Though it was a chilly consolation, the notion was enough to stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

I was going to be his undoing, the shadow following him everywhere and the voice in the darkness reminding him of what he'd done. And I would see his world fall apart around him when the time came.

However, while I lay there in the darkness, an unwanted and unwanted notion entered my mind. Giovanni was a guy, not simply a monster. A guy with hopes, anxieties, and maybe regrets.

Even though I wanted to despise him, there was a little, cunning part of me that couldn't help but wonder whether there was more to him than I'd let myself believe.

I dismissed the idea, feeling ashamed of myself for ever considering it. This had nothing further to do with retaliation. I refused to let anything or anybody else influence me.

But the question remained in the back of my mind, tempting me with its possibilities, even as I closed my eyes and slept.

What if Giovanni wasn't the evil character I had portrayed him as? What if there was a guy under the surface who was just as shattered as I was?

And what if I lost myself in the process of getting my retribution?

I needed to concentrate on the current work, but the solutions will eventually surface. I would make Giovanni De Luca pay for stealing everything from me. However, as I learned more about his society, I came to see that nothing was as easy as I had previously believed.

And I knew that the worst was yet to come when the distinctions between hatred and love started to become more hazy.

I could only fight the rage that had kept me going for so long, even as it started to dim and flicker. After all, the only thing that might have been more hazardous than retaliation was the chance that I might decide I didn't want it after all.