Twisted Obsession (Editing)

55 - Part 1: The Last Act

Lorenzo Vincelli

Friday, February 29, 3: 17 PM

The low glow of the desk lamp casts fractured light against the rich mahogany bookshelves, the room drowning in shadows—perfect for what's about to unfold. There's a certain stillness in the air, like everything has already been decided. The city hums outside, oblivious to the fact that I'm about to erase myself from it. Not for good, of course, but the world won't know that. Not yet.

I lean back in the chair, feeling the cool leather sink under my weight. My shirt's undone at the collar, my sleeves pushed up just enough to suggest I've been here for far longer than I really have. The disheveled look sells the story. I have to look like I've been breaking under the pressure of what's coming, like I'm a man on the edge.

Gianna moves quietly around the room, adjusting the camera on the desk. Her movements are deliberate, controlled. She's the only one who could handle this. The only one I trust to carry this out. I can see it in her eyes—she's not afraid of the game. She's cold, calculating. Exactly what I need for what comes next.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

I smirk, a slow, deliberate curl of my lips. "I don't have a choice."

She doesn't buy it. Neither of us does. But she's not the one pulling the strings here. She just plays her part—like I've trained her to.

Gianna adjusts the camera one last time, her face unreadable, betraying nothing. She doesn't have to. She knows the stakes. "You'll be fine. I'll take care of everything once you're... gone. I promise."

The word hangs between us, as if the finality of it is some kind of unspoken agreement. She knows, like I do, that this is just the beginning.

I take a long breath, letting it fill my lungs. Then, just as I lean forward, I let my shoulders sag slightly—a small act of exhaustion, a slight crack in my facade. It has to look real. People have to believe it. They'll have to believe I've been broken, that this confession is the last shred of my humanity.

Gianna steps back, already positioning herself behind the camera, eyes steady, unwavering. "Whenever you're ready."

I let the silence stretch out, savoring it for just a moment. This is the moment when the world will begin to fall apart. When they see this, when they believe the lie, everything will shift. The pieces will be in place, and all I have to do is wait.

The camera blinks first—a steady red light. Recording. Watching.

The world will see a man crumbling under the weight of his sins, a billionaire brought to his knees. They will see the regret, the exhaustion, the slow unraveling of a man who has finally been caught in his own web. But what they will never realize—what they will never even consider—is that every second of this, every breath, every pause, every flicker of hesitation, is deliberate. A controlled demolition..

I inhale slowly, deliberately, my breath trembling just enough to sell the act. My shoulders sag slightly, my jaw tightens just enough for the camera to catch. Let them see a man at his breaking point. Let them believe this is real. "I never thought it would come to this." My voice is hoarse, raw with the weight of sleepless nights. I let it crack, just slightly. "But I can't run from it anymore."

I lower my gaze, shadows cutting sharp lines into the hollows of my cheeks. A man preparing to spill his darkest secrets. "I've made mistakes." Another pause. Another inhale. "Terrible mistakes."

I shift in my seat, my hands gripping the armrests just a little too tight—subtle, but enough to make me appear uneasy, out of my element. Vulnerable. It's a delicate balance, presenting a man who is shattered yet still dangerous. They need to believe I have nothing left to lose.