Page 162 of Wicked Villain

Fuck, they’re planning to take my girl, and they still don’t know she can’t have kids.

What may have happened—had I not come along—is Corrado would have signed his daughter over to them, taken the money, and then claimed innocence that he didn’t know about her condition.

To be fair, from what I can tell, Danillo may not mind her condition. Though his parents would hate it. It’s always been clear to me that he wants my girl.

If the fucker is willing to pay whatever Corrado wants, it means he wants more than just the deal.

I almost envy him. He started off with obsession. I started with revenge.

Doesn’t matter. He can be obsessed all he wants. I’m the biggest fish in this pond. He’s plankton to me.

I close the file and open one of the home videos, deciding to look at something lighter.

The first video I open is from a summer vacation in Italy. It’s of the twins as little girls. They couldn’t have been more than six or seven. This one is of them running across the beach. One of the girls is doing cartwheels along the sand. Mirella is laughing in the background. She seems to be the one filming.

“Allegra, please don’t hurt yourself,” Mirella says, addressing the little girl cartwheeling who stops and starts giggling.

Gabrielle joins her and attempts a cartwheel but rolls onto her belly instead.

The two of them start giggling, and I can’t help but smile. It’s innocence, laughter, and fun with family, people who were alive and made life worth living. The scene is a snapshot of what things looked like before the picture was broken.

Allegra gets up, dusts the sand off her legs, and runs up to the camera.

“Mama, I wanna draw the sand. It would make a pretty picture,” she pleads in a little voice.

“Yes, you can, my love.”

I remember Gabrielle saying that Allegra hated anything to do with art. I guess she must have liked it when they were younger.

The video ends, and the next one automatically starts. It’s another vacation video, two years after the first. In this one, one of the girls is sketching. She’s about nine years old, maybe older. Her hair is wet and she’s in a swimsuit, so I presume she was swimming. The camera zooms into what she’s drawing. It’s a landscape.

I’ve watched my wife so much over the past month that I recognize the style. That’s my Gabrielle.

“Allegra, that is beautiful,” Mirella says, correcting me. Looks like Allegra was into art just as much as her sister. I wonder what changed.

“It’s the enchanted woods near Grandma’s.” Allegra grins.

“My sweet girl, I adore you.”

Gabrielle walks into the frame with a basket of hair supplies. She’s wearing a swimsuit, too, and she has her wet hair piled up on top of her head in a bun.

“Must you always be so obsessed with drawing?” she complains. “We’re on vacation. I can’t believe you left the pool to do that.”

“Gabrielle, stop it,” Mirella chides. “Look at the beautiful picture your sister is drawing.”

“I hate art, Mama.”

Okay…

That’s weird. I narrow my eyes and look at Gabrielle. She really looks like she meant every word she said.

“Gabrielle, stop fussing.” Mirella shakes her head at her daughter. “Come and do your sister’s hair.”

With a huff, Gabrielle stomps over to Allegra, who has ignored her sister completely to focus on her sketch. As I watch her, watch her hand, something gives me pause.

Left-handed.

She’s left-handed.