The rain poured relentlessly over the city, drumming against the stone pathways and washing away the footprints of the mourners who had already left. Matteo stood alone in the graveyard, his soaked clothes clinging to his trembling body. The umbrella that once shielded him from storms was gone. There was no one left to hold it over him.
The doctor was dead.
It was an accident, they said. A freak occurrence. A tragedy.
But to Matteo, it was a cruel joke played by the world, another ruthless twist of fate meant to remind him that he was alone. His fingers dug into the damp earth, nails scraping against the stone of the grave as he whispered, "You were the only one who cared."
A year. A full year since he had last cried. But tonight, the dam broke. His shoulders shook, his breath hitched, and he let the pain consume him. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, kneeling before the grave like a man begging for salvation. When he finally rose, the rain had numbed his body, but his mind burned with the fire of something new.
A reckoning.
Matteo found himself in a bar that night, his fingers wrapped around a glass of alcohol for the first time. The liquid burned his throat, but he welcomed the sting. The dim lights and cigarette smoke cast a hazy glow over the room. The place was filled with laughter, music, and meaningless conversations.
Then he saw her.
The woman on the stage moved like liquid fire. Every step, every sway of her hips was hypnotic. The thin fabric of her dress clung to her curves, revealing just enough to tease, to tantalize. She ran a hand down her thigh, lifting the hem ever so slightly, revealing the smooth skin underneath. The men around him cheered, throwing money at her feet as she arched her back, her hair cascading like silk as she twirled.
Matteo's grip on his glass tightened.
Her movements were seductive, crafted to ensnare the eyes of every watcher. Her hands trailed over her body in slow, deliberate strokes, guiding their gaze, making them crave more. She bent forward, lips slightly parted, eyes lidded in feigned ecstasy. Then, with one final spin, she turned toward the crowd, and Matteo's breath caught in his throat.
It was Eliane.
His professor.
His tormentor.
She didn't see him. Not yet. But Matteo saw her.
Something inside him twisted. The humiliation she had inflicted upon him, the scorn, the disgust.....it all surged within him. And now, here she was, baring herself before drunken strangers. The power dynamic had shifted. He no longer looked at her with fear.
He looked at her with opportunity.
The crowd erupted as the dance ended. Matteo, however, slipped into the shadows, camera in hand, recording every second. By the time the performance ended and the patrons began to leave, Matteo was gone. But he left with something more valuable than money.
A weapon.
A week later, Eliane sat in the faculty lounge, scrolling through her phone, exhaustion evident in her posture. The weight of her responsibilities bore down on her, but she kept it hidden behind a mask of professionalism.
Rafael entered the room, his smirk lazy yet calculated. He approached her casually, taking the seat beside her.
"How are you, Eliane?" His voice was smooth, but there was something unsettling beneath it.
"I'm fine," she replied without looking up.
They exchanged pleasantries, a normal conversation between colleagues. But then Rafael's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"You know, I heard an interesting story," he said, his fingers tapping the table rhythmically. "A teacher once helped a failing student. The student was grateful, of course. But then the authorities found out that someone had leaked the exam papers. That teacher lost everything. A tragic fate, don't you think?"
Eliane's grip on her phone tightened. "What exactly are you getting at?"
Rafael chuckled. "Oh, nothing. Just a rumor. And it's always so sad when rumors turn into reality." His eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "I wonder who it could be? Maybe a woman. Single. Unmarried. A dedicated educator, willing to do anything for her students."
Eliane placed her phone down, her beautiful face hardening. "What do you want, Rafael?"
His smile widened. "You."
She recoiled slightly. "How dare you..."
"Now, now," Rafael interrupted smoothly. "Don't be so quick to refuse. Think of your mother. Her medical expenses must be piling up. I imagine losing this job would be.... inconvenient."
Eliane's breath hitched. He knew. He knew about her struggles, her desperation.
"You're disgusting," she spat. "You have a wife. A child. How could you..."
"I don't care," Rafael said bluntly. "You will be mine, Eliane. And if you refuse.... well, let's just say the world isn't kind to disgraced professors."
Eliane stood, fury radiating from her. "Get out."
Rafael simply smirked and leaned in close. "Think carefully. If you push me away, I won't be the only one you're ruining."
He left, leaving Eliane shaken and furious. But her nightmare wasn't over.
After lunch, the principal summoned her.
He regarded her with disappointment as he handed her the official document. "Eliane, you've been suspended for a month."
"What?" she gasped, rising to her feet. "Why?!"
"You were reported for inappropriate behavior toward Rafael, a senior faculty member."
"That's a lie!" she cried. "He.....he's the one who....."
"Enough," the principal said firmly. "The decision is final."
Eliane clenched her fists. She had no choice but to accept it. With a heavy heart, she stepped out of the office, tears burning her eyes. Her mother's medical expenses, her only source of income...it was all crumbling. She had tried so many side businesses, but all had failed. And now, for a whole month, she would have nothing.
From the hallway, Rafael watched her break.
He smirked.
"You will be mine," he murmured to himself. "I will make you submit. I will break you completely."