He Took My Love 99 Times. The 100th Time, He Lost Me Forever. Chapter 07

He Took My Love 99 Times. The 100th Time, He Lost Me Forever. Chapter 07

At the tribunal, the Exchange pulled up the original backend records.

At the first authorization, the doctor had clearly noted: [limited to this surgery and

intra-operative additions only.]

But in the first post-op supplemental request, Dante, as the authorized proxy, had widened the purpose from “this medical procedure” to “the recipient’s complete recovery period.”

Every time, Serena filed her new demands under the sub-item “recovery stabilization”.

The old system auto-renewed, and the Exchange’s reviewers waved each one through.

Even after her legs had fully healed, the authorization was never terminated.

For ten years, Dante did the confirming. I did the paying.

The most damning recording came from after the ninety-eighth transaction.

Serena asked: “There’s only a little left.”

“After you take it, will she really forget him?”

The staff member answered: “It’s very likely her emotional recognition will be permanently

severed.”

Serena laughed.

“Good. If she doesn’t love Dante anymore, she won’t blame us.”

Then Dante’s voice followed:

“Don’t tell her yet. Wait until the finals are over.”

The tribunal fell dead silent.

Dante stared at the screen as if hearing, for the first time, how cruel he was.

Serena suddenly stood up.

“That recording is taken out of context! I was just terrified of losing the stage!”

I asked her, “After the twentieth transaction, your legs had healed. Why did you keep taking

frum me?”

“Because you had so much!”

She finally tore off her gentle mask, her voice shrill.

“You were born with healthy legs, Dante’s love, and the respectable title of Signora

Castellano!”

“I only took a little of what you couldn’t use up. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Dante’s love?”

I turned to the researcher beside me.

“Can that be measured?”

Dante’s head snapped up.

The system allowed a two-way Affection assessment during relationship repair.

He had just pledged to the Commission that he was willing to compensate me with all of his

love.

The researcher pressed a sensor patch to his wrist.

Soon, the screen displayed:

[Genuine Affection for Annalise Vale: 8.7%.]

[Possessiveness: 61.4%.]

[Resentment and wounded pride: 29.9%.]

Murmurs rose that no one could suppress.

Dante went white.

“The machine is faulty. There’s no way I love her only 8.7 percent.’

The researcher explained, by procedure: “The system measures only Affection.”

“Resentment, possessiveness and wounded pride from losing a partner are not counted as

Affection.”

Serena stared at the numbers.

“Then what about me?”

Dante didn’t answer.

She lunged for the terminal, and the screen automatically ran the second match.

[Genuine Affection for Serena Moretti: 12.1%.]

[Savior’s satisfaction: 52.6%.]

[Vested interest: 35.3%.]

Serena’s face went white too.

One of them had believed he was given ten years of devotion.

The other believed she had sacrificed a wife for true love.

In the end, one was addicted to being needed, and the other was addicted to taking what belonged to someone else.

When the hearing ended, the International Ballet Federation, citing the evidence, annulled all of Serena’s competition results of the past five years and opened an inquiry into her company

Dante’s continuous authorization was frozen.

He chased me out the door and, for the first time, begged quietly.

“Annalise, test me again. I was a mess in there. The numbers weren’t accurate.”

“Mr. Castellano,”

I looked at his reddened eyes.

“Eight point seven percent is already a lot,”

“What does that mean?”

“When I had less than one percent left, you still found it in you to press the button.”

A thud sounded behind us.

Serena stumbled and fell down the steps, and Dante reached out on reflex to catch her.

Ten years of habit made him check her ankle first.

Only when he was sure she wasn’t hurt did he look up at me in a panic, afraid I might

misunderstand.

“Annalise, I only-”

“You don’t need to explain.”

I truly didn’t mind.

But Serena seemed driven mad by those words, and shoved Dante away.

“Are you happy now?”

“My titles are gone, and Dante is having regrets.”

“You don’t love him anymore. Why come back and take him?”

“I didn’t take him,” I said, calmly.

“Then why are you doing all this?”

“To take my own name back out of your success story.”

She opened her mouth and said nothing.

I looked at her flawless legs.

“The first love saved you. The other ninety-eight fed your ambition.”

“Stop mixing them up.”

Dante gripped the railing, all color gone from his face.

Because he finally understood that what I was holding them accountable for was never the one

time that saved her.

It was that they had used that one time as license to take the rest of my life.