The night clawed through Annelise and Eliane like a storm uninvited. The concrete floor beneath them gave no warmth.Matteo had enjoyed their suffering like a sadist observing ants beneath a magnifying glass.
At midnight, when boredom overruled his delight, he sent them a pair of thin mattresses and warm clothes. Not to relieve their pain, but to prolong their sanity. Their misery was a story he intended to write slowly.
Morning came. The gray light filtered through the barred windows as the two women stirred. Their backs ached, their pride bruised. The breakfast was plain, but it was food. Eliane, ever the stronger in demeanor, tried to stretch her neck like a soldier on a battlefield, but Annelise's eyes remained distant.
Meanwhile, Matteo finished his protein-packed breakfast and left for his regular boxing training. Punch after punch, his fists met the bag like rhythmic thunder, releasing every pent-up thrill he held. Sweat slid down his temple, but his mind was already planning.
Once training was done, he visited them. They expected mockery, perhaps more punishment. But instead, he handed them two brightly colored tickets.
"Wonderland," he said, smirking. "You two need to remember how to pretend you're free. Take the day off."
No explanation, no tone of kindness. Just another layer of his twisted control.
Later that afternoon, Matteo sat in his office. Paperwork scattered his desk. He was deeply absorbed until the door opened and Ladina entered. Her outfit was sharp—short black skirt, long stockings, white blouse tucked beneath a dark blazer. A silent weapon of charm. But Matteo barely looked.
"Sir, everything else is also ready," she announced.
"Fine. Let's do it." Matteo picked up his phone and dialed.
A female voice answered.
"I'm also ready. Just send the money to my account," she said.
No names. Just deals.
Eliane and Annelise stepped out of the hospital. The world felt too large. Too fast. The smell of antiseptic still clung to their skin.
They walked silently until they found an empty café. The wind was gentle, and the clinking of cutlery around them felt like echoes from a distant world.
With warm coffee cups between their hands, they tried to find the pieces of themselves.
They walked to a nearby park, the sunlight slicing gently through the canopy above. Leaves rustled like whispers of time. They sat on a bench in silence, coffee cups cooling in their hands.
Eliane broke the stillness. "Isn't it strange how life never really pauses for anyone?"
Annelise nodded slowly. "It moves like a river. You can cry, scream, or sink.....but it won't stop flowing."
Eliane's gaze followed a passing cloud. "And we spend so much time trying to control it. Like building dams out of hope."
"But rivers break dams," Annelise said softly. "And hope isn't meant to hold back life. It's just meant to help us float."
They sat quietly for a while, letting the world pass without resistance.
Noemie sat in her room, her breath shaky. Her eyes were red from tears. In the corner sat an old woman, composed like a statue of cruelty.
"Why are you doing this?" Noemie's voice cracked. "Are you trying to ruin my life?"
The principal smiled, cold and cruel.
"That's right. When you met that boy in the room without any cameras, I sent him there. I needed a scene to build false proof. To brand you a pedophile."
Noemie's tears fell freely now.
"I would never.... I would never do that. Why are you doing this?"
The principal raised her hand, rubbing her fingers together in the unmistakable symbol for money.
"An old friend made a request. One with deep pockets."
She threw a file at Noemie's feet. A contract, bound with red thread.
"Sign it. Or rot in accusations."
Noemie opened the document. Her hands trembled.
It read:
'You hereby accept lifelong servitude as a maid under the ownership of Matteo Corporation. You will forfeit all rights until released by the employer.'
Her breath caught in her throat.
"This is slavery."
"This is your salvation," the principal replied. "Or would you rather be labeled a monster?"
The silence in the room became suffocating.
Noemie looked up, her voice breaking.
"Who... who is behind this?"
The old woman's lips curled into a smirk.
"Matteo sends his regards."
The pieces were being moved. The chains were not of iron, but of reputation, blackmail, and control.
And the game had only just begun.
In a dark room, Tomasz sat alone on a bed, grinning as he scrolled through Annelise's alluring modeling photos, swiping left and right with a gleam in his eyes.