Chapter Nine

Staring blankly into the boiling stew, my mind drifts back to him. His gaze... It was hollow, vacant—lifeless. I'd never seen his eyes so empty 'Then again, he's never died before'. They hadn't looked at me, not really, they'd stared straight through me. Even in death, he couldn't bear to acknowledge my existence.

My fingers absentmindedly twist the wedding ring still snug on my hand. I know the truth behind it, yet I keep it on. His love always eluded me, but I still had his wealth, his house, his mistress—and his future child.

'My child.'

'All because I killed him.'

I'll admit it. His cold, lifeless body lying in that room—Suddenly warmth floods my senses as strong arms wrap around my waist, grounding me.

"Ana," a deep voice whispers softly, a kiss pressed against my neck, pulling me back from the dark spiral.

That single touch snaps me from my thoughts.

I killed my husband, and yet, one truth remains incomprehensible.

The supposed man I killed is standing behind me, its warmth so real, so tangible, even though I know I left his body lifeless on that cold, sterile floor of the freezer. 

Its warmth seeps into my skin, but an unnatural chill clings to my bones. Slowly, I turn, half-expecting to see that smirk of his, the wicked gleam in Giovanni's eyes, or worse—his cold, dead stare but when I look up, I meet soft gray eyes filled with warmth...a warmth I haven't seen from him in years.

Gio's arms are quite soothing, but a lingering discomfort acknowledges the strangeness of the situation even more. The warmth feels unnatural, heightening my confusion and fear rather than relief.

It's looking at me, not through me.

"Gio?" I murmur, his name slipping from my lips, foreign and hesitant, as if calling a ghost.

"I haven't seen you the whole day, how are you?" it asks, rubbing my arm gently, as though trying to soothe the cold away. "You feel so cold."

I spent hours with him. His body. 

Just waiting, as I always did.

We hadn't been this close in years. I didn't touch him then, not even in death. Just being in his presence was enough, even if it was cold, even if he was lifeless.

My stomach swirls with guilt but I can't let guilt consume me forever. Reality doesn't allow it.

There are things I need to do.

1. Dispose of the body.

2. Figure out who—or what—this version of him is.

3. Get Maya as far away as possible.

"What are you cooking?" its voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

"Dinner," I say, forcing a smile, stirring the pot of broth in front of me. I can't help but check the doorway, half-expecting to see the shadows of my guilt creeping back in.

"How does it taste?" I ask, watching it closely, waiting for any sign of recognition, anything that might give it away.

"Delicious," it says, smiling—a genuine smile, and for a brief moment, I almost let myself believe things are normal. That this is him.

I serve it a bowl, and it eats with enthusiasm. For a fleeting second, it feels as if we're a real couple again.

"Aren't you going to eat?" it asks, looking up with a mischievous glint as it sneaks another bite of meat.

I shake my head. "I'm on a diet, remember? To help with the conception."

Its brow furrows slightly, as if the memory only just snaps into place, then it hums in acknowledgment, the moment passing.

'How much does it know? How much does it understand?'

I lean in, pressing a kiss to its cheek, letting myself linger in its warmth for just a second longer but as I turn to leave, the smile on my face falters. In the safety of the hallway, I wipe the kiss away with the back of my hand, my breath catching in my throat.

I love him—crave his touch but I know, deep down, that isn't him. I don't need proof. Its eyes, its touch, everything feels real, but something is undeniably wrong.

Giovanni may not be alive anymore, but something of him still lingers.

And it is in the soup.

I glance at the doorway, my heart racing with each passing moment. The silence in the house feels thick and suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. 'What if it knows? What if it remembers?'

Two months. That's all I need to make everything wrong disappear.

Including it.