The Last Russian Doll Novels & Stories

Maybe she believed that only in death could there be peace. I opened the bottle cap. “Mom, wait for me.” A soft click sounded. It did not come from the door. It came from the ventilation duct. The villa’s electrical system shut off without warning. The exhaust fan stopped. The lights went out. The bathroom fell into darkness. My hand shook. The bottle almost slipped. Someone was here. Was it Daniel? It seemed impossible. He was in court. Maybe it was a burglar. Or a robber. A sharp female voice cut through the darkness. “If you drink that, Daniel will treat you like an object and keep you forever.”

I remembered that the original plot said that she was supposed to die there, but it was by suicide with a knife instead. Although I drank the pesticide, I thought the character's ending would still be the same. However, I was wrong. I did not die. The pesticide seller, Terry Powell, had diluted the pesticide with water to make more profit. He even came to visit me, carrying a basket of fruit. He clutched his chest as he said, "Oh, thank goodness, I was greedy and diluted it with water! Otherwise, I'd be paying with my life right now." Charlie stood nearby, his eyes red as if he had just cried.

The picture went viral. I sit in my studio, scrolling through the comments. Most are supportive, but some are venomous. "Another gold digger." "Costello dumps her and she immediately finds a new wallet." "The Thornes are old-school. They won't tolerate a woman like her for long." I turn off my phone. Try to focus. But my hands are shaking. The phone rings. A blocked number. "Hello?" "Miss Rossi. It's Nico Torrino."