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The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother

The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother

Author: Gertrude
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Chapter 1 

Word Count: 1750    |    Released on: 04/06/2026

fia black site, enduring daily electrosho

til my fingers brushed against a hidden w

onged to my husband and

table before Friday, so I can

out I was

ontrolling stake in the syndicate, locked in an of

o men I trusted most conspired

ress parade through the asylum, moc

a damp storage room and threatening to bring the shock mac

sed my agony as irrefutable proof of my insanity, s

ure me; they wanted t

bottomless greed and built an u

branded into my wrist, I kn

d my own face hard, and playe

even days, and then I would take

pte

mafia black site, my fingers found a wiretap secured with m

ve her brain fried to a wet pulp by Friday, or we forfeit the

underworld of my complete and irreversible lunacy, I would not surviv

, the taste of my own

e pressure of a rubber bite b

hantom from the machine, forcing my fingers to

atment room to answer a telepho

ward; the muscles in my thighs, having endured the current for so long, fell in

back of my hand brushed the

l, a tone that had nothing to do with medical consultation. I knew he was communicating with someo

rd, square of plastic taped n

ed it

l, black digi

e air catching in my lungs as a h

y husband of three years, the

lethal cadence that directed a tho

ncapacitated, Victor," Ju

ante, my biological brother an

nte ordered, his words cl

tective trust holds her controlling stake in

ead men. Turn her into a mindless vegetable befo

ed in, a shrill no

o see her face

ss, and the woman who had spent the last three years parad

ian murmured back to her, his voice dripp

my ribs with the frantic, irr

I had believed I

the unsparing voltage were meant to c

rsts as irrefutable proof of my insanity-strapping m

not want

ted to e

at my l

date branded into my flesh by my father with

Fri

day the tr

had forese

f the Falcone Syndicate had understood th

s for me, locking the family holdin

ey-a secret calendar only I could read,

to survive the

ooted footfalls echo

phagus, and my heart was seize

deep into the hollow chest of a battered porc

onal possession Dr. Vance had allowed

the heavy steel

Italian suits a jarring contrast to the s

m of my gown. His tall frame blocked the overhead lamp,

of a man appraising a mispriced, def

told the guards behind hi

o sign the territory transfer doc

had to play, I dr

apped my own cheeks, har

back and forth on the linoleu

polished leather shoe stoppi

d gripped my chin,

w-a silent, lethal threat

not looking at me, but at Dr. Vance, w

nted," Dr. Vance replied, wiping a film of s

e Falcone estate was a bl

hest, feeling the hard square of the

ildhood home at last swung open, a

anding on th

and held a fluted glass of champagne, p

in," Chloe sneered as the g

g out a high-pitched,

ed soldiers, acting as though C

ar the waste disposal," Dante o

her dirtying t

ridor and threw me into a cramped room that

ollowed

e heavy door

lt sounded like a gunsh

hy hospital gown, Nia," Julian

or the colla

cre

old wall, kicking my leg

at my own arms until red welts rose on

k of profound disgust cros

ve trousers as if the mere prospe

down, you crazy b

as sliced off as the door closed, the metallic click of the b

nto the thin mattress on

alls, I heard Dante's voice approa

," Dante was s

ry is on

r deeds tomorrow morning-even if you hav

morrow morning. That was the new deadline. I had less than twenty-four hours to figure out

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The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother
The Fake Lunatic: I Played Crazy To Bury My Brother
“For three years, I was locked inside a mafia black site, enduring daily electroshock therapy and forced chemical cocktails. I truly believed I was losing my mind, until my fingers brushed against a hidden wiretap taped beneath the treatment table. The recorded voices belonged to my husband and my biological brother. "Turn her into a mindless vegetable before Friday, so I can legally seize her proxy votes." It turned out I was never sick. My late father, the legendary Don, had left me a controlling stake in the syndicate, locked in an offshore trust that would thaw in exactly seven days. To steal my inheritance, the two men I trusted most conspired to fry my brain into a wet pulp. My husband even let his secret mistress parade through the asylum, mocking my emaciated, scar-covered body. They dragged me back to the family estate, starving me in a damp storage room and threatening to bring the shock machines to my bedroom if I didn't sign over the territories. Every time I had fought back over the years, they used my agony as irrefutable proof of my insanity, strapping me down tighter and turning the dial higher. They didn't want to cure me; they wanted to completely erase me. But my father had foreseen their bottomless greed and built an untouchable legal fortress for me. Looking at the jagged date branded into my wrist, I knew exactly what I had to do. I dropped to my knees, slapped my own face hard, and played the perfect, broken lunatic. I just had to survive the next seven days, and then I would take back my throne and bury them all.”